THE RAINBOW'S END

In childhood's fairy hour I watched a bow

The Titian Sun had painted in the skies,

And marveled at its wondrous hues and dyes

And held my breath in silence at its glow;

“The hand of God,” I cried, “Divine, I know!”

And at the thought the tears stood in my eyes.

But when I heard that awful pack of lies

About the pot of gold, I said, “‘ S that so!”