POETRY
DEATH AND CHANGE
THE farmer with sickle cuts down the bright corn
To raise food for the people.
And hills are disrupted and grievously torn For bells in the steeple.
Chill mists of November, December denude The red breasts of October, And the bright swelling Earth lies depleted and rude For new fairness to robe her.
Repletion goes forth like the blade of a sword, And Need like a sickle ; But the Uplift of Passion's an axe of the Lord When man's strength has turned fickle.
The sword and the sickle combine and swing low Through the ripe corn's elation.
But the axe is upreared to the stars for its blow On .the neck of Creation.
Let us joy in the Sun ere the summer grow lax And its last warmth is gleaming ; The eyes of the sickle, the sword, and the axe Are watching and dreaming.
Give thanks for the summer ; but shrink not, 0 heart, As they flash out of hiding ; Strong life from the hard steel shall softly upstart, New Hope from Death's chiding.
Give thanks for the summer, sing sondels and psalms Ere their edge be upon you ; Then grip the hard steel in the pits of your palms, Put timidity from you.
The eyes of man's spirit unclose and see clear
When his life lies aerumble,
And Divinity blazons the banners of Fear When all is atumble., HERBERT E. PALMER.
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