December 1935


Volume 18, Issue 12



I have found n niche for n drifter

In a peaceful little town.

The streets are quiet and the lamps are low

And I think I've settled down.

There's a hush in the early evening

And the skies are grey and still.

The people soft and their words are kind

And a man may dream his fill.

Yet a man grows soft in dreaming

And the winter air is chill

And I miss the friends that I used to know

And I miss the golden thrill

Of gallant deeds in action

Of hunger and color and death

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