Page:General William Booth enters into Heaven, and other poems.djvu/130

114 THE ILLINOIS VILLAGE

YOU who lose the art of hope, Whose temples seem to shrine a lie, Whose sidewalks are but stones of fear, Who weep that Liberty must die, Turn to the little prairie towns, Your higher hope shall yet begin, On every side awaits you there Some gate where glory enters in.

Yet when I see the flocks of girls, Watching the Sunday train go thro' (As tho' the whole wide world went by) With eyes that long to travel too, I sigh, despite my soul made glad By cloudy dresses and brown hair, Sigh for the sweet life wrenched and torn By thundering commerce, fierce and bare. Nymphs of the wheat these girls should be: Kings of the grove, their lovers strong. Why are they not inspired, aflame? This beauty calls for valiant song&mdash;