SEA SPRAY &> SMOKE DRIFT 



The stern faces, soldier-like, silent, unruffled, 

 The slow sacred music that floats over 

 all! 



Cross carbine and boarspear, hang bugle and 

 banner, 

 Spur, sabre, and snaffle, and helm — Is it 

 well? 

 Vain 'scutcheon, false trophies of Mars and 

 Diana, — 

 Can the dead laurel sprout with the live 

 immortelle ? 



It may be, — we follow, and though we inherit 

 Our strength for a season, our pride for a 

 span. 

 Say ! vanity are they ? vexation of spirit ? 

 Not so, since they serve for a time horse 

 and man. 



They serve for a time, and they make life 



worth living. 



In spite of life's troubles — 'tis vain to 



despond ; 



164 



