.0^ ' %, ^>^/ ^>^ ^^:^J^\-, ^ o .4 c> : ., Atttljor nf S^mpU ppf ma of lEnn^iwi %\U Copyright 1917 By nancy PARKER ^V- liEC -8 1917 '.A477914 .J tm moras. «• THERE'S a plain little word which we all hate to say. And v/e'il get around it in any old v/ay. We'll say — Adieu, Au re voir! but why Bo we shun the plain little word — Goodbye. The ship is leaving; we're at the pier. It's — So long, darling! Bon voyage, dear! Or — Kiss me quick, honey, now don't you cry! And they're gone, but we haven't said — Goodbye. The son must leave for his work far away. And mother is getting stooped and gray. He is pressed to her heart while the tears dim her eye "My boy, I can't, I can't say Goodbye!" And the college boys together so long, Now they've played their last game and sung their last song. Bo they say Goodbye, as you'd think they would? No, "So long, old fellow! Be careful! Be good!" But that other word! How it leaps from the heart! We say when we meet and not when we part. The ship's coming in! But she sails too slov/? There they stand on the deck! Hello! Keilo. And the v/eary years at len2:th are past. And son's coming home to mother at last. "Oh, How could I ever have let him go! That's his voice I hear nov/! "Hello, mother! Hello!" And the college boys get together again. But now they're serious, dignified men. "Yes, there they come now! Oh, Lord! It ain't so! Why, Tom, you old rascal! Hello! Hello!" «« Colors of £ife. «« w HEN she was a little baby Her mother dressed her in white, For she said she was just an angel Come down on a beam of light. And then in her happy schooldays, As all fond mothers do. She tied up the little girFs ringlets And put on her frock of blue. The years passed all too swiftly Till Love forged his golden link, And then the gown she loved to wear Was the brightest, rosiest pink. But when love turned to passion And her purity had fled She flaunted her sins before us In a flaming gown of red. But as you have seen the sunset Flash crimson, then fade away, So, as youth and beauty vanished. Her gown, like her life, was gray. The death of one who loved her Put her tortured soul on the rack. And from that day we saw her only In a somber gown of black. But today when I stood by her coffin Which was touched by a beam of light, Her peaceful hands were folded Once more on a robe of white. •« mistakes. •*■ YOU have made mistakes? Why, of course you have. And you'll probably make them again. You're not a machine which runs by rule In this world of women and men. You have made mistakes? Well, don't be ashamed. Mistakes are the price we pay For courage and action and daring to go Where no one has led the way. You have made mistakes? And what if you have? You're willing to take the blame. You wouldn't stoop to deny nor deceive; You'll stand by the rules of the game. You have made mistakes? Aye! There's the rub! You can never suffer alone, And those who loved you, whose hearts you broke, What can you do to atone? You have made mistakes. Have done with regret. But make a resolve today That every mistake shall be but a light To show you a better way. «« l)ard On motber. «P^^. .-^^^ ^^v .^' <^ DOBBSBROS. * ^^^ "^^ LiaHARV BINDING /^ V%^ ,S-r AUGUSTINE i^^^- "^b K ° -^^r^^