Poetry
Sonnet
ONLY the fool will call a spade a spade, And say that black is black, and white is white, And draw a heavy line 'twixt sun and shade, 'Twist sound and silence, sorrow and delight ; For are not earthly joys all wet with tears ?
And does not comfort lurk behind distress ? And is not youth as much bowed down by years As age ? And what is death but fruitfulness ? The Absolute belongs to Heaven alone, There is no darkness in the Eternal beam,— But we, who live upon a stepping-stone, How can we tell whether we wake or dream ? Unless, with tolerant vision, we can find Sweet beauty in our twilight, we are blind. '
MARY KELLY WALKER.