Page 90 - 1926 Hartridge
P. 90
Page 86
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Despair
My mind whirls round a thousand times With nothing more than nursery rhymes. H ow can I with this childish store Produce a poem of love or lore?
Yet others with a perfect ease
Fill volumes with their praise of seas,
Of women’s eyes and flowering trees, Of battle fronts and victories.
Of baby’s laugh and happy glees.
Of flowers sought by humming bees. Of argument at social teas.
Of starry heavens and memories. Of love of God and charities. And many more, an endless chain.
While I despairing still remain.
J. B., ’26.
