The morning journal-courier., 1908-02-24

modern tendency ot life expressed Tn poesy. In it he deals with many of the kroblems of the present day, deplor ling professional politics on a radical business and appealing to higher nor als and higher ideals in life. It is not too much to say in it's behalf that it is probably the most remarkable contri- button ever made to current political thought by an actor in the political drama of the hour. Mayor Henney may now be said to have inherited former Governor Henry B. Harrison's title of "The Scholar in Connecticut Politics."
 THE LAW OF LIFE-AN ELEGY. Search then myself. heart, for in thy
 beating The meaning of the universe lies hid. Honorable William Franklin Henney
 Mayor of Hartford An ancient church its sturdy belfry
 rears, Rocked by the storms of nigh three hundred years. Before its pillared porch and paneled doors
 A busy city's thronging commerce pours.
 Behind, the church-yard's crumbling headstonts greet The curious wanderer from the crowd ed ttreet. The tangled grass the fitful breezes stir On shapeless mound and mouldering sepulchre c1a tho trhn marbles show Their names and lineage in the long ago. The high and low, the rich and poor, the great, The humble, and the favorite of Fate, The true and false, the selfish and the just,
 Lie here commingling in common dust.
 Straying, one day, by vagrant impulse Within these precincts, sacred to the dead,
 l marked a spot, by mosses overgrown, And knelt to read the inscription on the stone. Two centuries and more had not ef- faced
 The tribute hands, now dust them selves, had traced. In memory of the long-forgotten dead; The name. the age, and then this verse I read:
 Mature he loved, and every wind that blew
 Its message brought and stirred his heart anew In winters snow and summers frag- rant air He saw alike the faithful Fathers care, And bird and brook and star and flow CT and sea Unto his listening soul made melody Hence shall he rise and pass. to life from death, With Love his guide and Faith his shibboleth." 70 Age, Whose Pride and Greed
 Forget. An, loving heart that loved and wrought
 Through storm and stress of van -ished years, And strong in faith some glimpses caught
 Of glory through the msts of tears; o willing soul that bravely trod Lfe's weird and doubt-beclouded path,
 And. hope-uplifted. spurned the sod, Rejoicing in the aftermath. Full many spring hath bloomed and flown,
 Since in the flesh he walked with men,
 thousand moons have dimmed and shone,
 And yet, he cometh not again The snows and dews awake him not Nor roar of Traffic's busy ways; And joy and care and grief forgot, HeAsleepeth through the nights and days.
 We, who little longer stray Amid the soul-encrcling gloom, Still fearful, tread the beaten way That led to this neglected tomb What boots the wisdom of the wise, The boast of science and of art? We sound the seas and pierce the skies and feed with husks the hungry heart;
 We rear our pantheons and fill The treasure-house with golder store.
 We reap the harvest vast, and still Our eager hands would compas, more
 Yet far and wide our temples rise. We build the altar and the shrine; Though Hope prepare the sacrifice. Our faltering Faith demands a sign 0 hunger of the heart, whose pang Through all the story of the years, Since first the stars together sang, Hath pierced the soul with doubt and fears,
 Not wisdom's pride. nor learning's lore Nor wealth's proud palace buildet
 high,
 Nor treaSure-hOuseS running OCT Shall e'er that yearning satisfy! o Age whose Pride and Greed forget The boundaries of Right and Wrong The living Harp shall rouse thee vet To listen to the minStrels song, Too long our eager feet have strayed Where commerce rules the crowde
 mart:
 Too long the lust of gold betrayed The nobler vearnings of the heart Q for the pipes. whose notes of old Enchanted all the listening air. ar harp that Isreals longings told In rhapsodies of praise and prayer "The Voice of Prayer and Psalm Q
 Praise O for some minstrel touch to wake The slightest hearts neglecte
 strings
 Some winged word the spell to brea When false the sordid siren sings! Shall stnried AT her gIories snend