EPILOGUE.
Forth in the sunlit, rain-bathed air we stepped,
Sweet with the dripping grass and flowering vine,
And saw through irised clouds the pale sun shine.
Back o er the hills the rain-mist slowly crept
Like a transparent curtain s silvery sheen;
And fronting us the painted bow was arched,
Whereunder the majestic cloud - shapes marched:
In the wet, yellow light the dazzling green
Of lawn and bush and tree seemed stained with blue.
Our hearts o’erflowed with peace. "With smiles we spake
Of partings in the past, of courage new,
Of high achievement, of the dreams that make
A wonder and a glory of our days,
And all life s music but a hymn of praise.
LONG ISLAND SOUND.
I see it as it looked one afternoon
In August,—by a fresh soft breeze o erblown.
The swiftness of the tide, the light thereon,
A far-off sail, white as a crescent moon.
