Mildred L. McNeal-Sweeney

NOW comes the fragrant night in from the sea

And all her flowery purples soon unfolds,

Like April-countries, violet sown, where we

May have the hush the eager time withholds.

Methinks heaven sometimes takes the world aside

And lends a happy ear to all it says—

Soothing its great unrest, and for its pride

Showing again the simple fields of praise.

This starry-lighted island is no more

The quick and restless city of my task;

It dreams with me and what may be in store

For either, we do neither care nor ask,

Leaving the dear fulfilment of my youth

In the safe care of thought and time and truth.