And the trees in the deeps of the forest wave scepters of laughter
and light
Where the monarchs have perished forever and sheathed are the swords
of their might.

III.

We travel the rim of the circle! The peoples that struggled and wrought
Are the dust of the ways that we wander, with truths they discovered
and taught;
And back to the morning we hasten,--the morning when nations were new,--
For the Voice of the Master is calling, and still there is labor to do.

IV.

We travel the rim of the circle, yet wider and wider it grows,
Yet farther and farther it reaches till Love conquers all of her foes,
And Faith to the far journey beckons, and Truth with her promises sweet
Sounds the call of the masterful ages and hurries the march of the feet.

V.

We travel the rim of the circle! Its path is a way of delight;
The morning brings ever the noon-day and conquers the shadows of night;
And whether we walk it a little, or whether we wander it far,
Still widens the rim of the circle, and yonder the sun and the star!

Playing the Game.

When Willie first began the game,
He saw but little in it,
And often wondered how he came
To let himself begin it;
But soon he learned the ball to hit
A mighty blow elastic,
And shouted at the rise of it
With yells enthusiastic.

He talked so much of hits and runs,
Of strikes and fouls and bases,
That we, the poor admiring ones,
Could hardly hold our faces;
His boasting never found an end,
His bat was always ready,
And every day he had to spend
Some hours in practice steady.

He never seemed prepared for meals,--
The game held him completely;
He kept so busy making "steals."
And running home so neatly;
And if a "home run" batted he,
We could forget it never;
His talk would all about it be
Forever and forever!

Sometimes I think that Willie's game
Is like the game life's playing:
At first we wonder how we came
Around here to be staying;
And then we find the game is worth
The stakes that humans stagger,
And anxious are to win the earth
With "home run" or "three-bagger."

We practice up from day to day
To gain applause and prizes,
And fool the precious hours away
With toilsome exercises;
Yet 'tis worth while whate'er the strife,
Whatever you