Ah, yes, for life has a thousand gifts,

But love it is gives life.

Who walks thro his world alone e'er lifts

A soul that is sorrow-rife.

But they to whom it is given to tread

The moon-path and not sink

Can ever say the unhappiest way

Earth has is fair to the brink.

[Pg 60]

[Pg 60]

DUSK AT HIROSHIMA

Softly the bamboo bends

As the sun sinks down unglowing,

Softer the willow ends

A sigh to the dusk around.

Quickly the brief bat wends

His flittering way, thro flowing

Fields of the autumn air,

That are husht of the city's sound.

Temple and thatch and stream

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