Who worship at a holier shrine than they--
The living temple of the sacred muse:
May she who is our patron saint infuse,
Illume our souls; and raise some Pen, I pray,
To leave the world a noble heritage.

ANTE NUPTIAL

_(To a Physician engaged to a Nurse)_

When young Dan Cupid dipped his fiery shaft
Deep in the liquid blue of Psyche's eyes,
Then took three strands of raveled midnight skies
And strung his silver bow with these, and laughed,
Thy doom, O son of Esculapius' craft,
Was sealed:--the fatalest dart that flies
Is Eros' bolt, and surest of its prize--
And now, physician, take thy healing draft.

Ah, no; it is not unto death but life,
That thou art sick, although pierced through the heart!
Wondrous disease that no physician's art
Can heal, that will not yield to surgeon's knife,--
A blessed wound that ever must grow worse.
How fortunate, O man, that she's a nurse!

DR. MILES SAUNDERS

He held the key to every mystic door
Of Egypt's shrine; he knew the sacred rite
Of druid, sage and seer; and loved the light
Of Babylonian and Assyrian lore:
He saw old Enoch when he walked with God;
He watched Elijah smite the prophets dead;
He knew the Israelites whom Moses led;
And looked upon the bloom of Aaron's rod!

And yet this man who gazed on gods and kings,
And saw and felt whatever mortal can,
Was like his Christ, the lowly Son of Man,
A tender minister in humble things.
He had a royal mind, a priestly ken;
But best of all he loved and helped young men.

WORSHIP

The crown of Caesar glittering on his brow,
The sword of Nero clanking at his side,
His giant hand made crimson in the tide
Of Life, insatiate Mammon feigns to bow
Before the altar of the Prince of Peace.
How long, O God in heaven, wilt thou bide
This mockery of the lowly Christ who died
That sin and greed and enmity might cease?

Not Holy Wars nor death of heretics,
Nor rich cathedrals towering to the sky,
Nor bended knee before the crucifix,
Nor any faith in form can sanctify;
But Brotherhood devoid of selfish strife,
And Love, the incense of a noble life.

GOLD AND GOSSAMER

TO THE MOCKING BIRD

Whence is thy song,
Voluptuous soul of the amorous So