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U NC OL L E C T E D A N D O T H E R P OE M S | 191 By what gifts to me belong I am Flying, I am Song. (from His Religion and Hers [New York: Century, 1923], 100) Two Hundred Words Two hundred words—a scant array To carry all I’d like to say Of gratitude and admiration And heartfelt warm congratulation To greet this Golden Wedding Day. Dear friends, for many a year are they, To fitly praise I see no way, Nor find, to own my obligation, Two hundred words. Yet from her lips, in humor gay, Or love, or ire, less words convey Delight and joy or consternation; And from his pen—what compensation, What piled and willing wealth can pay Two hundred words? (A Purse of Gold: filled by the children, the grandchildren and a few of the friends of Elizabeth and Alexander Black36 in commemoration of their golden wedding anniversary (New York: privately printed, 1931), n.p.) A Hundred Years Hence A hundred years hence there’ll be peace in the world, The battleships sunk and the battle flags furled. An end to war’s death and destruction intense. The world will be wiser a hundred years hence. A hundred years hence. The strong and the young are the victims we slay, The weakly and old the survivors who stay, We ruin the race in our folly immense The world will be wiser a hundred years hence. A hundred years hence. We pile up our millions with knowledge and skill We pour out our millions to cripple and kill, Three-fours of our tax goes to warfare’s expense37 The world will be wiser a hundred years hence. A hundred years hence. An organized world keeping peace up on earth, The people improving in wisdom and worth— We’d start it today if we had enough sense— ...

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