Night: A Poem

WHAT THE CLOCK SAYS. 289 Thus they are rolled to the various spheres, From the caldron of months to the cistern of year«. And time, like a mountain as firm as a rock, Is built with the seconds that fall from the clock. Prestige, renown, character, fame, The zenith of mind, the strength of a name, Are bought with these nuggets or won by your tears, That you turn to the days, and the months, and the'year*. Each shy little moment you pass with a frown Puts a stone in the way, and a void in your crown. T. B. Curtis. Salt Lake City, Utah.

NIGHT. ' {For the Improvement Era.) When the Day-God hath journeyed afar. In his splendor of purple and gold; ;, When his; chariot wheels of fire Through the gates of the west are rolled— She Cometh,'her censer swinging; She Cometh—softly singing — Night, in her robes of peace. Rest to the earth-world bringing. Lovingly lingering on mountains majestic; Slowly straying by quiet streams; She behold?, at her coming, the Day-God departing. Night—the goddess of dreams ! At her feet sweet flowers springing. Above her the nightingale singing- Night, in her robes of peace. Rest to the earth-world bringing. The Wind-God a lover insistent, Layeth his lyre at her feet. The roar of the ocean, the murmur of forest?, He blends into symphonies sweet. The wind a love-song is singing. Earth with music is ringing, . .
While Night, in robes of peace, . , . Rest to the world is bringing. Maud Bag<;aruby. Salt Lake City, Utah.