Virna Sheard

“ Wind of the sea,
If you are tender they may miss love less—
Where e'er they be.
Come, gentle moon, swing low your lantern light
On reddened fields,
And find the lonely harvest of the night
That battle yields.
Banish the darkness filled with quivering dread,
Lest they should know
Some last strange horror—even they—the dead—
Sweet moon, swing low.
Fold them at dawn, dear earth, within your arms
So safe and strong:
Hold them asleep till they forget alarms,
And woe and wrong.
Master of Kings! If peace be bought with pain
These paid the price ”

“ And the wind in the branches whispers, "Why?"
And the yellow leaves that go rustling by,
Say only, "Remember," and sigh,—and sigh.
DREAMS Keep thou thy dreams—though joy should pass thee by;
Hold to the rainbow beauty of thy thought;
It is for dreams that men will oft-times die,—
And count the passing pain of death as nought. ”

“ A dream may lift thy spirit past all fear,
And with the great, may set thy feet on high!
BEFORE THE DAWN In that one darkest hour, before the dawn is here,
Each soul of us goes sailing, close to the coast of Fear. ”