That split then closed in thunderous roar;
The boy clung to a swaying tree
Until he saw the open door
Of home outreach its arms to him--
Wise-guiding arms they were, love-strong.
He learned to face each hurricane:
Head high, he answered song for song,
Then when the wind brought sounds of war,
The cries of wounded, dying, slain,
His were the tender, healing arms
To hold ... and ease a comrade's pain.
For he had learned--time-disciplined--
Love is the anchor in the wind.
