Ii--Written In A Year When Many Of My People Died

I have begun to count my dead. They wave green branches Around my head, Put their hands upon my shoulders, Stand behind me, Fly above me-- Presences that love me. They watch me daily, Murmuring, gravely, gaily, Praising, reproving, readily. And every year that company Grows the greater, steadily. And every day I count my dead In robes of sunrise, blue and red.

III--A RHYMED ADDRESS TO ALL RENEGADE CAMPBELLITES, EXHORTING THEM TO RETURN