Green for the cool, sweet gardens
Which stretch about the house,
And the delicate new frondage
The winds of spring arouse,
And red for the wine which a man may drink
With his fellows in carouse.
Blue and green for the comfort
Of tired hearts and eyes,
And red for that sudden hour which comes
With danger and great surprise,
And white for the honour of God's throne
When the dead shall all arise.
Gold for the cope and chalice,
For kingly pomp and pride,
And red for the feathers men wear in their caps
When they win a war or a bride,
And red for the robe which they dressed God in
On the bitter day He died
THE WORLD'S MISER
By Theodore Maynard
I
A miser with an eager face
Sees that each roseleaf is in place.
He keeps beneath strong bolts and bars
The piercing beauty of the stars.
The colours of the dying day
He hoards as treasure—well He may!—
