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[Newspaper clipping]

The Third Column

WAVES.
Sometimes the waves come roaring in
Like troops round a beleaguered city,
Advancing with the will to win
And deaf to every cry for pity;
Mad with the power which they possess,
The angry waves are merciless.

Another day, when skies are fair,
They come to shore with joyous
singing,
And play with the children there
Who seek the shells which they are
bringing;
To see them on a summer's day
You'd never dream such waves would
slay.

Again you'll see them wearing plumes
Like knights of old on chargers
prancing,
[] like a field of lily blooms
On which the morning sun is
dancing;
Then riding shorewards, one by one.
They're handsome things to look upon.

And so with us and all our moods,
Smiles of contentment light our faces,
We sing our gentle interludes
And hide our strength 'neath courtly
graces;
But roused by hate and temper-tossed,
Then all our finer traits seem lost.

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