Sculptured Worship The zones of warmth around his heart, No alien airs had crossed; But he awoke one morn to feel The magic numbness of autumnal frost. His thoughts were a loose skein of threads, And tangled emotions, vague and dim; And sacrificing what he loved He lost the dearest part of him. In sculptured worship now he lives, His one desire a prisoned ache; If he can never melt again His very heart will break.

Laughing It Out He had a whim and laughed it out Upon the exit of a chance; He floundered in a sea of doubt- If life was real-or just romance. Sometimes upon his brow would come A little pucker of defiance; He totalled in a word the sum Of all man made of facts and science. And then a hearty laugh would break, A reassuring shrug of shoulder; And we would from his fancy take A faith in death which made life bolder.

Exit No, his exit by the gate Will not leave the wind ajar; He will go when it is late With a misty star. One will call, he cannot see; One will call, he will not hear; He will take no company Nor a hope or fear. We shall smile who loved him so- They who gave him hate will weep; But for us the winds will blow Pulsing through his sleep.