The tribes that find a shelter there
Are phantom peoples, forms of air,
And ghosts of vanished joy and pain.

At evening when the crimson crest
Of sunset passes down the West,
I hear the whispering host returning;
On far-off fields, by elm and oak,
I see the lights, I smell the smoke,--
The Camp-fires of the Past are burning.

Tertius and Henry Van Dyke.

November, 1903.



ONE WORLD

"The worlds in which we live are two
The world 'I am' and the world 'I do.'"

The worlds in which we live at heart are one,
The world "I am," the fruit of "I have done";
And underneath these worlds of flower and fruit,
The world "I love,"--the only living root.



HIDE AND SEEK