SEA SPRAY &> SMOKE DRIFT 



Keep your thanks till the combative instinct 

 dies 



With the taint of the olden leaven ; 

 Yes, the times are changed, for better or worse. 



The prayer that no harm befall 

 Has given its place to a drunken curse, 



And the manly game to a brawl. 



Our burdens are heavy, our natures weak, 



Some pastime devoid of harm 

 May we look for ? " Puritan elder, speak ! " 

 " Yea, friend, perad venture thou may est seek 



Recreation singing a psalm." 

 If I did, your visage so grim and stern 



Would relax in a ghastly smile, 

 For of music I never one note could learn. 

 And my feeble minstrelsy would turn 



Your chant to discord vile. 



Tho' the Philistine's mail could naught avail, 



Nor the spear like a weaver's beam. 



There are episodes yet in the Psalmist's tale, 



To obliterate which his poems fail. 



Which his exploits fail to redeem. 



Can the Hittite's wrongs forgotten be? 



28 



