. At early candle light and other poems. ties, beneath his caught in the twist of his whirling strewed and spilled on the sodden while the pitiless floods beat prayers for help ascend. WHTTT 15 YOUR LirE ? 97 Not the mocking cloud that is moored in air,Upblown from the sea thro the brazen sky,When the swooning world is like to die; And the blinding sun but a baleful glareAnd maddening fervor hath; Which seems so happy up there in heaven, While men are watching, with choking harvests wither—bud, bloom, and leaf— For lack of the help that it mig

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. At early candle light and other poems. ties, beneath his caught in the twist of his whirling strewed and spilled on the sodden while the pitiless floods beat prayers for help ascend. WHTTT 15 YOUR LirE ? 97 Not the mocking cloud that is moored in air,Upblown from the sea thro the brazen sky,When the swooning world is like to die; And the blinding sun but a baleful glareAnd maddening fervor hath; Which seems so happy up there in heaven, While men are watching, with choking harvests wither—bud, bloom, and leaf— For lack of the help that it might have curse it in their wrath. But the rosy cloud with the ripple of rain,The lisp and laughter of dripping leaves,That sings to the farmer the song of sheaves,And patters the tune on the window-pane Till the radiant bow doth shineIn bands of glory around its brow; Till the vine-robed valley, the corn-clad hill,The bird and bloom, which have drunk into canticles, telling howMans life may be divine. mAy^,y. Tw^

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