Page:The Pathfinder, Swiggett, June 1911.djvu/19

1911 Sweet as the song of the lark that soars

From the net of the fowler free,

Sweet as the morning that song adores—

So is my love to me!

As the rose that blossoms in matchless grace

Where the canker may not be,

As the well that springs in a desert place—

So is my love to me!

SIBERIA8

DEATH9

I am the key that parts the gates of Fame;

I am the cloak that covers cowering Shame;

I am the final goal of every race;

I am the storm-tossed spirit's resting-place.