Poetry of Kansas
 

The Beach Comber.

The waves make merry in the sun,
The waves run on forever,
Forgetful of the broken spars they
          leave upon the shore.
 
The ocean weaves a purple veil,
And decks herself in silver,
The moon rides on and leaves her
          standing tip-toe in the door.
 
Life weaves itself a mystic haze,
And runs toward Eldorado,
Unmindful of the broken wrecks,
          that dream and run no more.

__Elizabeth N. Barr.

The High Winds of Home
Elizabeth N. Barr
(Olathe: privately published. 1922)
Page 11

 
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