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[Newspaper clipping]

THE PASSING OF BEAUTY.

Trees are turning red and gold,
Now the year is growing old,
But the leaves are fluttering down
To the gutters of the town;
And the beauty of it all
Tells us plainly it is fall,
It is fall and summer's gone,
Winter's swiftly coming on.

Roses pink and roses white
Make a very lovely sight,
But I cannot stay the tear
When I see them on a bier.
Tinged with sadness every bloom
Lighting up the silent room,
For the petals, one by one,
Whisper this: Your friend has gone.

Distant purple, flaming red,
Well I know that summer's dead;
Woods of beauty, hills aglow,
Liveried heralds of the snow,
Though enraptured I behold
All your wealth of shining gold,
Still beyond your calm I hear
Winds of winter howling near

--Edgar A. Guest.
(Copyright, 1923, by Edgar A. Guest.)