Befora too Late.
So often heart must rise and fall, its séems,
Like mountain, then 1ike wind, and then the aun,
And then in a pause that makes all weather stop
And silence multiply like night; in gleans
of tiny 1ight that sometimes mean a turn
In tomorrow's fates in eyes that laok their drop
Of tears to make. them knovmt in sudden sight
Of the mon who govern us, our pastry dolls
Who bake themselyes in front of office-fires,
The kinge whose grip has gone. The deadly night
Of having no one understand. Our souls
Go up and down and call their teachers liars.
So often heart is. caught, in unknown fate,
That we muet learn to read; before too late.