Oh, quiet must the sea-floor be! And very still must be the gloom Where in each well-appointed room The splendor rots unto the sea. Through crannies in the shattered decks The sea-weed thrusts pale finger-tips, And in the bottom's jagged rips With ghostly hands it waves and becks. The mirrors in the great saloons Sleep darkly in their gilt and brass Save when the silent fishes pass With eyes like phosphorescent moons. On painted walls are slimy things, And strange sea creatures, lithe and cool, Spawn in the marble swimming pool And shall, a thousand springs. For as it is, so it shall be, Untouched of time till Doom appears, Too deep for days, too deep for years In the salt quiet of the sea. The Will to Live GEORGE BURMAN FOSTER Like the sense for the true, the good, the holy, the esthetic sense is elementary. Man comes to himself as man in all alike. Without the effectuation of his peculiar artistic impulse, man, the born artist, could not find the real consecration and dignity of the human. Indeed, the worth of all human culture depends upon the sense for the beautiful. As religion is not restricted to some fragment of our experience but informs the whole, so culture requires that life shall be beautiful down to the commonplace and homely things of the daily round. The new program, to which this modern insight points, means a rebirth of our entire moral and social life.