The fifth stone shall not fail you, son of mine.

GO FORTH, GO FORTH, AND SLAY THE PHILISTINE.




NEW YEAR, 1918


A song I never heard
I must rehearse,
Counting each hour a word,
Counting each day a verse.
Not of my proper choice
Raise I my voice,
While others--fierce and strong--
Raise theirs to drown my song.

Must I then sing aloud,
Faint as a bird,
And, like a bird, be proud
To sing--to sing unheard?
Weary and very weak,
Shall I then seek
A hearing, idiot-wise,
From the unhearing skies?

Drowning my whispered dreams,
Great voices cry.