Whispering always, "Rest, rest."




THE POOR HOUSE

HOPE went by and Peace went by
And would not enter in;
Youth went by and Health went by
And Love that is their kin.

Those within the house shed tears
On their bitter bread;
Some were old and some were mad,
And some were sick a-bed.

Gray Death saw the wretched house
And even he passed by--
"They have never lived," he said,
"They can wait to die."




NEW YEAR'S DAWN--BROADWAY

WHEN the horns wear thin
And the noise, like a garment outworn,
Falls from the night,