Poem by Alice Hunt Bartlett

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I wear the badge of mourning, oh, my dear,
I walk in solitude. . . . I kiss each star
If you are here beside me or afar,
No other fellowship seems half so near!
When thought can guard one thus, why yield to fear?
Materially parting is no bar
For those in unison. No static jar
Encountered: cannot thought swing safe and clear?

This brings one to the crux of our suspense—
Is thought a living entity or no?
At gateways of great wonders, we, Immense
Lies opportunity! To-day we know,
Inventors find a long-sought recompense:
On unknown waves projected concepts go!

1. Depths
2. Illusion
3. Service
4. Greater Beauty
5. Reactionary

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