Poems By Arjava

FAR from lean-acred living

Death's empire grows,

Nor his liegemen made poorer by giving,—

Pity not those.

Beyond the mount of striving

Calm's valley flows,

And her dwellers compete not in thriving—

Pity not those.

In the din of deaf wheels revolving

Confusion stows

Earthmen ; nor find they absolving :

Then pity those.