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VOLUME, FIVE
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Pure Love is the breath of the soul,
And Love is the blood of the heart,
The Shepherd that gathers the fold,
The Seaman that follows the chart.
And he who embarks for the sea
With Love’s holy hand on the helm,
Though whirlpools and rocks there may
be,
May fearlessly ride the wide realm.
The sun can not rival Love’s light,
Plell’s fires are unto it cold,
Than snows on the loftiest height
’Tis whiter a thousand-fold.
The petals of lilies that bloom
In the dusk of the pool-dimpled dells,
And whiten the slumbering gloom
Like the foam whitens Ocean’s far
swells,
Are never so fair as the Love
That dawns like a star in the soul
When the twilight of sorrows englove,
And Hope is heart-weary and cold.
O’ Love is the cherubim’s wing,
And Love is the baby’s first dream,
’Tis the melody mocking-birds sing,
’Tis the music that leaps with the
stream.
’Tis the first bud that cries to the Spring,
’Tis the blossom that glories and falls,
’Tis the scintillant moonbeams that fling
Their smiles to the Night when she
calls.
And Love is the thunder’s wild voice,
And Love is the breath of the storm,
’Tis Love makes the mountains rejoice
When the earthquake unbends its right
arm.
The lightnings that jewel the breast
' Os the storm-brooding, ebon-browed
' Night,
The mists that empurple the west
When the Sun breaks his last lance of
light.
ATLANTA, GA., FEBRUARY 9, 1911-
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DAN CUPID |
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By ARTHUR L. HARDY
The far-away stretches of space,
The eloquent thrill of sweet sound,
The zephyrs with sibilant grace
That go on their gossiping round.
d he golden-lipped wave of the lake
That sleeps in the smile of the sun,
The billows that blossom and break
On the shore, when their courses are
run,
Are each but the Prophets of Love,
Are all but Love’s High Priest, Love’s
Nun;
The web that the Destinies wove,
brom Love’s golden fleece was first
spun.
O, Soul! on thy pilgrimage hence
To Eternity’s beautiful bourne,
Why stand in the shadows and wince
At terror, when thine is a throne?
Let horrors barbaric disperse,
And fears that enwheel thee with doom,
Stand out from the shade of the curse
That darkens thy way with its gloom.
Serene as Mulhacen’s high crest,
When full on its summit there shines
The soft, lingering light of the west,
Which Night’s mellow beauty en
shrines.
Go fearless and calm on thy way
With knowledge that Love is thy guide
At the high-noon of glorious day,
At the night when the shadows fall
wide.
Then come like a king to thine own,
Inherit the kingdom of earth ;
Love reared thee a palace and throne,
And madi thee immortal from birth.
TWO DOELAKS <7 YEAH.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.