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Armstrong, Margaret (ed.) / The Wisconsin magazine
Volume XI, Number 6 (March 1914)

Ketcham, Iva N.
When the Valkyrie came,   pp. [unnumbered]-seven

H. H. H.
Morning glories,   p. seven

Page seven

THE WISCONSIN MAGAZINE                                SEVEN
the falling snow and it showed him how
thick and fast the flakes were falling. In
the center of that bright space, he saw a
face looking down upon him; it was gentle
and kind, and it came nearer to him. He
knew her by her wonderful beauty and by
the shining helmet which was pressed over
her flowing hair.
  "It is the Valkyrie. She has come be-
cause I am dying," he breathed. "You have
won, oh giants of the frost, you have won,
oh remorseless enemy of my fathers, but
I-" He thought she spoke to him, but he
could not hear what she said, for he felt
himself being borne away with a rush of
great wings, as her dark horse was caught
up from the earth into the whirling wind
and snow.
   The sun was shining upon the white plain
 when Ben and his partner rode through the
 valley next morning. The younger boy's
face was white, and neither of them spoke a
word. They looked about them on either
side as they rode along.
  They found him at the place where the
foothills rose up from the edge of the val-
  "Look!" cried Ben, "The snow is drift-
ed here higher than a man's head."
  His partner bent down with a smothered
cry. A giant frame lay half hidden in the
snow at the foot of the great drift.
  "No wonder he could not get through it.
The wind and snow must have come roaring
down into this place with an awful force
to have made such a pile as this. They
must have beaten against him like a torna-
   But neither Ben nor his partner knew as
 they looked at that great mass of dazzling
 snow that the dead lips were smiling be-
 cause the Valkyrie had come with it.
The morning-glory chalices
Of softest texture, fairest hues
Swung from their graceful trellises
  Brimming with morning's silver dews.
I pulled them eagerly to fill
  An antique bowl of quaint design,
And set it on the window sill
  Where light fell dappled, shade with shine.
But when at noon I came again
  To gaze upon the faery things
They drooped, drawn up as if in pain,
  Tight folded all their dainty wings,
Sadly I mourned their vanished charm
Fled with the morning's golden beams,
And thought, "So in the noon of life
"Wither and die our youthful dreams."
Today, when morning sunbeams fell
  Like elfin fingers on my eyes
I looked-as run from out her cell
  Upon the world-with sweet surprise.
At the slim trelises bereft
  But yesterday of all their bloom-
Fiesh morning-glories plendant hung,
  Their faint sweet fragrance filled the room-
                           H. H. H. '15.

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