Sonnet.

The silent places on the wan lone plain
Where Lethe winds sad waters all around
The haunts of Death with never sight nor sound
Of men and mortal things, of loss and gain
Of love and hate, tell to the wearied mind
Of calm repose far distant from the vain
Dim echoes of mortality's refrain
"0, give us Truth if Truth there he to find."
For here is peace, the end of all is here,
With time that falls oblivious, to heal
The scars of life, the loss that once was dear:
The shadow of a dream. Ah! never more
Stretch forth incessant hands of vain appeal
Consumed with longing for the future shore.

R. S.