Memorial Day (verse)
Gilbert, William B.
Who can forget his voice, his glance, his smile? Fresh from the heart they sprang, as warm and free As if some sunbeam, prisoned there awhile, Had broken loose from its captivity. We shall not...
...We shall not ever meet his like again, That subtle blend of sympathy and strength, Moving so deftly through the aisles of pain Where sorrow spread her pall in solemn length...
...But yet withal he was not pledged to gloom, From some great well of joy he drank so deep, That we, within the shadow of his tomb, Smile back at him, still smiling in his sleep...
Vol. 6 • May 1927 • No. 3
