/7\ * 'M CV> 
 

 -oV*' ~M 
 
In The Pastures 
 Of The Green 
 
 And Other Poems 
 
 BY 
 HENRY M. HOPEWELL 
 
 CHICAGO, 1915 
 

 < # 
 
 Copyrighted and Published 
 
 by 
 
 HOWARD D. BERRETT 
 
 518 Wrightwood Avenue 
 
 Chicago 
 
 Publiihed June, IQI5 
 
 F. HALL PRINTING COMPANY, CMICASO 
 
 ©CI.A406351 
 JUN 17 1^15 
 
% 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 In the Pastures of the Green 5 
 
 Boyhood Days 9 
 
 The Days That are Fleeting 15 
 
 Carry Me Back . . . . - 18 
 
 The White Mule 20 
 
 Friends 25 
 
 When the Summer Time is Over .... 27 
 
 When the Leaves Begin to Fall 31 
 
 Winter Time 33 
 
 Leaves 35 
 
 Work 36 
 
 Jennie the Brave 38 
 
 The Wise Mouse 41 
 
 In the Ranges of the West 44 
 
 Fellowship with Nature 46 
 
 Nature's Wonder Scenes 48 
 
 Things You May Have Missed 52 
 
 Climbing 54 
 
 The Columbia 56 
 
 Grandfather's Farm 58 
 
 Early Scenes 60 
 
 I've Been Thinking 62 
 
 Echoes of Springtime 65 
 
 The Picnic 67 
 
 The Dew 69 
 
 [3] 
 
1 
 
 CONTENTS * 
 
 PAGE ' 
 
 Mother 70 , 
 
 Love 72 
 
 Speak Kindly 74 ^ 
 
 Good Bye 76 
 
 Bill Watkins 78 
 
 Memories . . . 84 *" 
 
 I've Been to See the Old Home Place ... 86 
 
 The Seasons 89 
 
 Man's Destiny 91 
 
 The Old Swimming Hole ...... 92 
 
 There Is No Death 95 
 
 Morning 96 ' 
 
 The Dog 98 
 
 Story of a Mouse 100 
 
 [4] 
 
IN THE PASTURES OF THE GREEN 
 
 IN THE PASTURES OF THE 
 GREEN 
 
 When the dew is on the meadow 
 
 And the turtle dove is seen 
 And the cattle all are feeding 
 
 In the pastures of the green, 
 When the air is soft and balmy 
 
 With the coming of the spring 
 And the sun is shining brightly 
 
 With the growth of every thing, 
 And the home folk are delighted 
 
 For the cleaning has begun 
 With the airing of the carpets 
 
 In the early morning sun. 
 And the house plants all are taken 
 
 To the lawn in open air. 
 Then the dew is on the meadow 
 
 And the turtle dove is seen 
 And the cattle all are feeding 
 
 In the pastures of the green. 
 
 [5] 
 
IN THE PASTURES OF THE GREEN 
 
 When the hill sides all are colored 
 
 With the verdure of the spring 
 And the birds are busy looking 
 
 For a place to nest and sing, 
 When the frogs are quaintly croaking 
 
 As they leap about the pool 
 And the barefoot boy is whistling 
 
 As he trudges off to school, 
 When the apple trees are blooming 
 
 With the blossoms pink and red 
 And the honey bees are searching 
 
 For a place to gather bread; 
 O, there's pleasure in the fragrance 
 
 Of the odor in the air. 
 And the dew is on the meadow 
 
 And the turtle dove is seen 
 And the cattle all are feeding 
 
 In the pastures of the green. 
 
 When the time has come for outing 
 
 And the holidays begin 
 And the bluebird and the robin 
 
 Find a place to nestle in, 
 
 [6] 
 
IN THE PASTURES OF THE GREEN 
 
 When the bumblebee is seeking 
 
 For its food in early spring 
 And the humming bird is chirping 
 
 As it flits about on wing, 
 When the meadow-lark is singing 
 
 As it flies about the field 
 And the farmer is surmising 
 
 What the coming crop will yield, 
 And the clover fields are charming 
 
 With the fragrance everywhere, 
 Then the dew is on the meadow 
 
 And the turtle dove is seen 
 And the cattle all are feeding 
 
 In the pastures of the green. 
 
 When the breeze is gently wafting 
 
 Over meadows sweet to see 
 And the reaper is preparing 
 
 For the harvest yet to be, 
 When the sparkling water's flowing 
 
 Over pebbles in the brook 
 And the lovers go a strolling 
 
 In the shadows of the nook, 
 
 [7] 
 
IN THE PASTURES OF THE GREEN 
 
 When the landscape is a beauty 
 
 And the forest scenes are fine 
 And the day is bright and pleasant 
 
 For the use of hook and line, 
 When the floating clouds above us 
 
 Are seen flitting in the sky, 
 Then the dew is on the meadow 
 
 And the turtle dove is seen 
 And the cattle all are feeding 
 
 In the pastures of the green. 
 
 [8] 
 
BOYHOOD DAYS 
 
 BOYHOOD DAYS 
 
 'Twas many years ago in a thinly settled 
 wood 
 
 I lived when but a boy in a friendly neigh- 
 borhood 
 
 Down by the river bank, where the land- 
 scape had a charm — 
 
 I've blest the day so oft that I lived upon a 
 farm. 
 
 There many years I dwelt and I strolled 
 
 along the streams 
 And roamed about the woods in a pleasant 
 
 day of dreams. 
 
 The fishing time would come in the early part 
 
 of spring 
 And with my hook and line I would think 
 
 myself a king. 
 
 [9] 
 
BOYHOOD DAYS 
 
 And later in the season I'd fish throughout 1 
 the night, i 
 
 And early in the morning I'd have a feast 
 in sight. 
 
 I'd stroll about the fields in the pleasant sum- 
 mer time 
 
 And listen to the birds with their music sweet 
 and fine. 
 
 The work upon the farm was a task I had 
 
 to do, 
 Nor was it ever easy, the country then was 
 
 new. 
 
 Nor did we have the tools that the farmers 
 have to-day. 
 
 With sickle and with scythe we would al- 
 ways cut the hay. 
 
 And when the corn was planted, with hands 
 we'd drop the seeds ' 
 
 And with the single shovel would keep it 
 clear of weeds. 
 
 [10] 
 
BOYHOOD DAYS 
 
 The woods were full of berries, we'd gather 
 
 them to can, 
 In early days of livmg we always had to plan. 
 
 When summer time had gone and the autumn 
 
 would appear 
 'Twas fun to gather nuts when the leaves 
 
 were brown and sear. 
 
 The hickory nuts were many, great quantities 
 were found, 
 
 They'd fallen from the trees and lay scat- 
 tered on the ground. 
 
 And hazel nuts were gathered when first the 
 
 frost had come, 
 The husks would quickly wither, we'd hull 
 
 them one by one. 
 
 In winter time I'd hunt where the rabbits 
 
 come and go, 
 I'd chase them through the woods and shoot 
 
 them in the snow. 
 
 [II] 
 
BOYHOOD DAYS 
 
 I had a yoke of calves, and I'd hitch them 1 
 
 to a sleigh, 
 I'd take the girls out riding upon a wintry 
 
 day. 
 
 The sport was fine as could be, the girls 
 
 would always go, 
 I seldom ever went but I spilled them in the 
 
 snow. 
 
 I went to school in winter a portion of the 
 
 time, 
 I'd stay away to work when the weather 
 
 would be fine. 
 
 The house was built of logs in the good old- 
 fashioned way, 
 
 The boys would gather fuel to warm it 
 through the day. 
 
 I made my bow and arrows, I'd shoot at 
 
 birds on wing. 
 But ne'er do I remember of hitting anything. 
 
 [12] 
 
 i 
 
BOYHOOD DAYS 
 
 I made my little wagon and things with which 
 
 to play, 
 None other was more happy, nor any one 
 
 to-day. 
 
 My mother carded wool and she spun it into 
 
 thread, 
 She dyed it with the colors of black and blue 
 
 and red; 
 
 She wove it into cloth in the summer time 
 
 and fall, 
 And made it into garments for children of 
 
 us all. 
 
 She'd knit our socks and mits in the evening 
 
 by the fire. 
 She'd all the work she cared for or woman 
 
 should desire. 
 
 The house work then was simple and car- 
 pets were but few, 
 
 I also think that living was simple, good and 
 true. 
 
 [13] 
 
BOYHOOD DAYS 
 
 Down by the river bank where the land- 
 scape had a charm, 
 
 I've blest the day so oft that I lived upon 
 a farm. 
 
 [14] 
 
THE DAYS THAT ARE FLEETING 
 
 THE DAYS THAT ARE FLEETING 
 
 The days that are fleeting for man on the 
 
 earth 
 Give pleasure and sorrow from time of his 
 
 birth; 
 He Hves and he hopes, though a care and a 
 
 slave 
 From childhood through life till he reaches 
 
 the grave. 
 
 The high and the low, and the base and the 
 
 just, 
 Together they lie where they molder in dust; 
 The youth in his strength and the prime of 
 
 his day 
 Has joined in the throng that are sleeping 
 
 in clay. 
 
 The mother that suckled the babe at her 
 breast 
 
 [15] 
 
THE DAYS THAT ARE FLEETING 
 
 And taught to her children the ways of the ' 
 
 blest 
 Has fallen asleep in the arms of her God 
 And taken her place in the dust of the sod. 
 
 The father who's striven with patience and 
 
 will 
 To care for the mother and children, is still; 
 He's gone to his rest and his spirit has fled, 
 He sleeps in the grave with the numberless 
 
 dead. 
 
 The rich and the poor and the young and 
 
 the old 
 Have gone to their sleep where they lie in 
 
 the fold. 
 There are millions of souls that have gone 
 
 on their way 
 To lands that are thought to be brighter than 
 
 day. 
 
 So man was created and placed on the earth, 
 With care and with burden soon after his 
 birth; 
 
 [i6] 
 
THE DAYS THAT ARE FLEETING 
 
 He lives and he hopes, though a care and a 
 
 slave 
 From time of his birth till he lies in the 
 
 grave. 
 
 [17] 
 
CARRY ME BACK 
 
 CARRY ME BACK 
 
 Carry me back to the scenes of my childhood, 
 Carry me back to my home when a boy; 
 
 There just to roam in the dense of the wild- 
 wood, 
 There to live over the days of my joy. 
 
 Thoughts of my childhood about me still 
 flowing, 
 Vivid impressions grow stronger with 
 time ; 
 Live as I may in the years that are going, 
 Fond recollections will always be mine. 
 
 Give me the hopes of my youth that were 
 glowing, 
 Take me away from the turmoil and strife; 
 Carry me back again just to be growing 
 Fondly surmising the fruits of a life. 
 [i8] 
 
CARRY ME BACK 
 
 Resting, O resting, serenely reclining. 
 Viewing the world with the least bit of 
 care, 
 
 Pleasantly dreaming, the future divining, 
 While I would sit in the old rocking chair. 
 
 Give me, O give me, my youth to live over! 
 
 Back to my childhood allow me to fly ! 
 When in the fields I would roam through the 
 clover, 
 
 Qiasing the butterfly into the sky. 
 
 Give me, O give me, the sweetness of slum-^ 
 ber! 
 Cuddled and tucked away snugly in bed; 
 Mother's caresses I never could number, 
 Countless were they on my wee sleepy 
 head. 
 
 Carry me back to my childhood's adorning. 
 Carry me back to my youth and my play; 
 
 Carry me back to my life's early morning, 
 Carry me back and allow me to stay. 
 
 19] 
 
THE WHITE MULE 
 
 THE WHITE MULE 
 
 I thought the world peculiar, when I taught ^ 
 
 the country school, 
 The boys and girls were brawny, and the 
 
 flogging was the rule. 
 
 I had a mule I'd ride to school, 'twas white as ^ 
 
 driven snow, 
 'Twas down in old Missouri, in the days of 
 
 long ago. 
 
 He had a reputation, known throughout the . 
 
 neighborhood. 
 He'd never kick nor worry me, was always 
 
 kind and good. 
 
 The children climbed upon his back, and 
 
 they would stroke his curls, -^ 
 
 He was a country favorite with all the boys i 
 
 and girls. } 
 
 [30] 
 
THE WHITE MULE 
 
 This mule would always take me seven miles 
 
 and back each day; 
 I lived at home with mother and I had no 
 
 board to pay. 
 
 Each morning at the break of day, while 
 
 stars were yet aglow, 
 I'd mount the old white mule, and on the 
 
 road to school I'd go. 
 
 'Twas customary then, along about the 
 
 Christmas time, 
 For schools to lock the teacher out, and make 
 
 him treat them fine 
 
 To feast of fruit and candy, ere the door 
 
 should ope again; 
 'Twas down in old Missouri, in the winter 
 
 time and rain. 
 
 Three days they kept me out, and in the damp 
 
 and chilly air. 
 The old white mule stayed by me, took me 
 
 home and back with care. 
 
 [21] 
 
THE WHITE MULE 
 
 The third day in the morning, when I rode 
 
 up to the door, 
 'Twas opened wide before me, mid a whoop 
 
 and wild uproar. 
 
 They all came out to greet me, with a noose 
 
 at end of rope ; 
 They tried to lariat me, and to take me down 
 
 the slope 
 
 To stream of sparkling water, there to duck 
 
 me in the pool. 
 The old white mule, a friend of mine, then 
 
 took me from the school. 
 
 He seemed to know the reason, for he looked 
 
 up to the sky. 
 He pricked his ears and raised his head, and 
 
 took me on the fly. 
 
 He took me down the road; at end of lane 
 
 and timber street. 
 Looked back to view the scene, then started 
 
 on in full retreat. 
 
 [22] 
 
THE WHITE MULE 
 
 We went so fast my hat dropped off, nor did 
 
 I stop for it, 
 We kept on going o'er the bumps, as fast as 
 
 we could hit. 
 
 Cy McElvane was with me, and a bodyguard 
 
 was he. 
 He rode a fine bay mare along, beside the 
 
 mule with me. 
 
 He was a bold and stalwart man, heM *'lick 
 
 them all" he said. 
 But when the boys came after me, he rode 
 
 away instead. 
 
 Next morning I was back, and everything 
 
 was pleasant now. 
 The board had taken up the deal, and settled 
 
 all the row. 
 
 The school was fine from that time on, I 
 
 never saw the beat ! 
 Upon the last day of the school, I gave them 
 
 all a treat. 
 
 [23] 
 
THE WHITE MULE 
 
 The old white mule had saved the day, for 
 
 he was true and bold, 
 I never should have sold him, for his total 
 
 weight in gold. 
 
 [24] 
 
FRIENDS 
 
 FRIENDS 
 
 The friends that are true and steadfast, that 
 
 stand the test through life, 
 Are those that are made in youth's time, ere 
 
 come the days of strife. 
 
 The friendships and acquaintances thus form 
 
 a lasting tie, 
 They're kindled with the flames of love that 
 
 never, never die. 
 
 The memories of childhood's days that lin- 
 ger for all time 
 
 Are dearest of all memories, though sum- 
 mit's height we climb. 
 
 The time allotted us on earth in this short 
 
 span of life 
 Is fraught with hardships for us here in all 
 
 our earthly strife. 
 
 [25] 
 
FRIENDS 
 
 But friends we need and friends we'll have 
 
 if we will strive and plan 
 To lighten cares of all who live, and help our 
 
 fellow man. 
 
 [26] 
 
WHEN THE SUMMER TIME IS OVER 
 
 WHEN THE SUMMER TIME IS 
 OVER 
 
 When the frost is on the meadow 
 
 And the leaves begin to rattle, 
 And the corn is in the crib 
 
 To feed the sheep and cattle; 
 When you feel the cooling breeze 
 
 That breaks the summer's drouth, 
 And watch the flight of birds 
 
 As they journey to the South, 
 And when the moaning winds 
 
 Around your home place sigh, 
 And your fuel bin is full 
 
 To keep you warm and dry. 
 It's then a fellow 'prec'ates 
 
 The long hard summer's work ; 
 When the frost is on the meadow 
 
 And the leaves begin to rattle, 
 And the corn is in the crib 
 
 To feed the sheep and cattle. 
 
 [27] 
 
WHEN THE SUMMER TIME IS OVER 
 
 When the wheat is cut and threshed. 
 
 And the bins are full of grain, 
 And the plowing all is over, 
 
 And the seeding done again, 
 When the apples all are picked 
 
 And potatoes, too, are dug, 
 And the other garden truck 
 
 Is stowed away all snug; 
 When the boys and girls go nutting. 
 
 And they gather from the trees 
 A supply of goodly picking 
 
 For their winter evening bees; 
 When the baseball season's over 
 
 And the football takes its place, 
 Then the frost is on the meadow, 
 
 And the leaves begin to rattle. 
 And the corn is in the crib 
 
 To feed the sheep and cattle. 
 
 When the landscape all is colored 
 With hues of brown and yellow. 
 
 And the squirrel snugly stores 
 His rations in his cellar, 
 
 [28] 
 
WHEN THE SUMMER TIME IS OVER 
 
 And the dry and husky leaves 
 
 Have fallen thick in heaps, 
 And the swine all follow quickly 
 
 For a place to lie and sleep; 
 And the hauling all is done, 
 
 And the mow is full of hay. 
 And when the stock is sheltered 
 
 From a cold and stormy day; 
 Oh ! it's then you feel secure 
 
 In your cozy, happy home. 
 When the frost is on the meadow 
 
 And the leaves begin to rattle 
 And the corn is in the crib 
 
 To feed the sheep and cattle. 
 
 The atmosphere is bracing 
 
 As you sniff the morning air, 
 For the torrid summer's over 
 
 With rejoicing everywhere; 
 We miss the summer dews 
 
 And the music of the bees, 
 And the singing of the birds 
 
 As they fly among the trees, 
 
 [29] 
 
WHEN THE SUMMER TIME IS OVER 
 
 But the air is cool and crisp 
 
 And your step is quick and spry, 
 And you feel like being thankful 
 
 For the good things all laid by. 
 Yes, the summer time is over 
 
 And the winter's coming on. 
 When the frost is on the meadow 
 
 And the leaves begin to rattle, 
 And the corn is in the crib 
 
 To feed the sheep and cattle. 
 
 [30] 
 
WHEN THE LEAVES BEGIN TO FALL 
 
 WHEN THE LEAVES BEGIN TO 
 FALL 
 
 There is sadness in the forest 
 
 When the leaves begin to fall; 
 
 There is sadness in the music 
 
 When the winds begin to call; 
 
 And it's rustle and it's bustle 
 
 And it's hustle all the time, 
 
 For the trees have shed their clothing 
 
 And the fall is on decline; 
 
 And the trees are seeming lonely 
 
 From the losing of their green, 
 
 And the v^inds are moaning vv^eirdly 
 
 As they whistle by unseen; 
 
 And the squirrels pranks are playing 
 
 As they skip from tree to tree, 
 
 And they chatter and they clatter 
 
 As they crack their nuts in glee; 
 
 And the air is cool and bracing 
 
 In the early morning dawn, 
 
 [31] 
 
WHEN THE LEAVES BEGIN TO FALL 
 
 With the sparkle of the crystal -^ 
 
 Of the frost upon the lawn; 
 
 And the roads are strewn with teaming 
 
 In the hauling of the grain, 
 
 And the farmer is rejoicing 
 
 In his flowing wealth and gain. i 
 
 There's a sadness in the forest, 
 
 For the winter time is near, 
 
 And the snowing and the blowing 
 
 And the freezing will be here. 
 
 Let us then prepare for winter 
 
 While the weather's good and fine; 
 
 For the trees have shed their clothinjr 
 
 And the fall is on decline. ^ 
 
 [32] 
 
WINTER TIME 
 
 WINTER TIME 
 
 When the wind is fiercely blowing 
 
 Hard against your window pane, 
 And you sit inside and listen 
 
 To the spatter of the rain; 
 When the pasture fields are hidden 
 
 From their wonted coats of green, 
 And the stock is sheltered warmly 
 
 From the blast and stormy scene; 
 When the day is cold and dreary 
 
 And the clouds are hanging low, 
 And the ground with white is covered 
 
 With the crystal flakes of snow; 
 When the boys and girls are coasting 
 
 Down the sloping of the side. 
 With their glee and joyful shouting 
 
 As they onward rush and glide; 
 When the streams and lakes are frozen 
 
 And the ice is thick and fine, 
 And the boys and girls are skating 
 
 And they have a jolly time; 
 
 [33] 
 
WINTER TIME 
 
 When the winter storms are raging 
 
 And they howl and rave and roar, 
 And the blizzard winds are striving 
 
 Hard to enter at your door; 
 When you sit with wife and children 
 
 In your home that's warm and neat, 
 And you gather at the table 
 
 Where you talk and jest and eat; 
 O it's then you're feeling grateful 
 
 To the God who reigns above, 
 For the good and many blessings 
 
 In the home you dearly love; 
 And it's then you've peaceful slumber, 
 
 You are safe from winter's harm; 
 Let it snow and rain and thunder. 
 
 Winter's storms have no alarm. 
 In your cozy home of plenty 
 
 You are happy and content. 
 For you worked in clement weather 
 
 And no idle moments spent. 
 None should envy, or begrudge you 
 
 All your wealth and honest gain. 
 For you worked in clement weather 
 
 And lay by in storm and rain. 
 
 [34] 
 
LEAVES 
 
 LEAVES 
 
 'Tis autumn of year and the leaves have all 
 
 fallen, 
 For days they've been flitting and going 
 
 astray ; 
 They rustle and hurry, in open they scurry, 
 And bustle and sputter and flutter away. 
 
 They drift into corners and lie in the hol- 
 lows. 
 
 They're red and they're yellow and orange 
 and brown; 
 
 They lie all around and they gather and 
 scatter. 
 
 And cover the lawn like feathery down. 
 
 The leaves are all drifting and shifting and 
 
 sifting — 
 How sadly they sing for a day and a day! 
 They lie in the damp and in snows of the 
 
 winter; 
 In heat of the sun of the spring they decay. 
 
 [35] 
 
WORK 
 
 WORK 
 
 It's not what you have done, my brother, 
 Nor what you are going to do; 
 
 It's what you are doing now, brother, 
 That counts in the struggle for you. 
 
 It's the will and the grit, young fellow, 
 
 It's work that is honestly done 
 That the world to-day is in need of. 
 
 So hump yourself to it, my son. 
 
 If you'd win in the game, my brother. 
 When others about you would fail. 
 
 Then to-day start in on your journey 
 And go straight ahead on the trail. 
 
 It is now you should start, my brother, 
 And do what you can on the way; 
 
 There is plenty of work, my brother, 
 And workers are needed to-day. 
 
 [36] 
 
WORK 
 
 There's no room in the world for idlers, 
 There's room at the top if you work; 
 
 There's no room on the round for others, 
 No room in the world for the shirk. 
 
 Are you waiting for something, brother, 
 
 A job that is easy to do? 
 If you're waiting for this, my brother, 
 
 'Twill be a long waiting for you. 
 
 There is only one way, my brother. 
 There's only one road I should guess; 
 
 It's the road where you toil, my brother. 
 The only one road to success. 
 
 There's a field that is open, brother, 
 The one that is calling for you; 
 
 There is room at the top, my brother, 
 Go climbing and prove it is true. 
 
 [37] 
 
JENNIE, THE BRAVE 
 
 JENNIE, THE BRAVE 
 
 The night was dark and foreboding, 
 The stars were hidden from sight; 
 
 With roar and rumble of thunder 
 Came flash of Hghtning that night. 
 
 'Twas Jennie Smith and her mother. 
 Who Hved alone in the glen, 
 
 Their cottage faced on the river. 
 For years 'twas shelter for them. 
 
 A rain was falling in torrents, 
 A cloud had burst in the sky; 
 
 The stream was fearfully swollen. 
 The bridge was reeling near by. 
 
 When, in a moment stood Jennie, 
 With lantern swung at her side ; 
 
 The train that soon would be coming 
 Was doomed to go with the tide. 
 
 [38] 
 
JENNIE, THE BRAVE 
 
 She sprang and quickly was scaling 
 In dark and storm of the night; 
 
 On hands and knees she was crawling, 
 The lantern, only, her light. 
 
 Thus she, undaunted and conscious, 
 And with a sigh and a tear. 
 
 Had nerved herself for the effort. 
 For all depended on her. 
 
 To save the lives of the people, 
 Her only thought at the time. 
 
 And thinking not of her danger. 
 She reached the end of her climb. 
 
 With ear at rail she would listen. 
 For those aboard she must save; 
 
 So, like a deer that was fleeing, 
 She sped, and signal she gave. 
 
 She swung the light of the lantern 
 Across the track as she'd wave; 
 
 The engineer at the throttle 
 
 Slowed down for Jennie, the brave. 
 
 [39l 
 
JENNIE, THE BRAVE 
 
 She saved from wreck most appalling, 
 That night in storm and the rain, 
 
 All those who'd taken their passage 
 On board the fast moving train. 
 
 A purse was raised for the brave one, 
 She spurned the gold as her right, 
 
 For she'd done nothing to warrant 
 A gift from people that night. 
 
 But all she cared for and wanted, 
 
 Appreciation she'd won; 
 She'd saved the lives of the people — 
 
 Her duty, only, she'd done. 
 
 [40] 
 
THE WISE MOUSE 
 
 THE WISE MOUSE 
 
 One morning in June, 
 The fourth, I should say, 
 To canyon we went 
 To fish for the day. 
 A warehouse was found, 
 'Twas dirty as sin, 
 Permission had we 
 To enter therein. 
 The party, composed 
 Of Reeves and his frau, 
 Two daughters and son 
 And I, with a vow 
 Determined to fish 
 For trout in the stream; 
 We made a good catch 
 That day it would seem. 
 A dozen or more 
 I fried of the fish; 
 'Tis useless to say 
 We relished the dish. 
 
 [41] 
 
THE WISE MOUSE 
 
 Our table was made 
 Of boxes and brick; 
 We ate and we ate 
 With fingers and stick. 
 While eating there came 
 A snake and a mouse, 
 And racing were they 
 Across the warehouse. 
 The snake tried to catch 
 The mouse at a dash; 
 Across the warehouse 
 It ran like a flash. 
 The studding was reached, 
 And fast as it could 
 The mouse scampered up 
 This studding of wood. 
 The snake on its trail 
 Discovered the mouse 
 Was planning to reach 
 The top of the house. 
 So, climbing it went 
 Above the main door. 
 When suddenly fell 
 The mouse to the floor. 
 
 [42] 
 
THE WISE MOUSE 
 
 It lay on its back 
 And seemingly said, 
 *'Now, just pass me up, 
 I'm perfectly dead." 
 The snake came again 
 And saw the mouse lay 
 A-flat of its back, 
 So, passed on its way. 
 A snake will not eat 
 A thing that is dead, 
 It must be alive 
 And moving instead. 
 All this was a sham 
 On part of the mouse; 
 The snake shambled off 
 To end of the house. 
 No sooner than done. 
 No sooner than said. 
 The mouse ran away 
 And scampered to bed. 
 
 [43] 
 
IN THE RANGES OF THE WEST 
 
 IN THE RANGES OF THE WEST 
 
 Where the sunlit sky is azure 
 
 In the ranges of the West, 
 And the air is crisp and bracing 
 
 In the shadows of the crest; 
 Where the bold and sturdy mountains 
 
 With their snowy caps are seen, 
 And their sloping sides are swollen 
 
 With the grandeur of the green, 
 And the cataracts are splashing 
 
 Over boulders on their way. 
 Mid the sighing of the forest 
 
 With its greetings of a lay; 
 Where the earth is thickly covered 
 
 With the moss that's grown for years, 
 And there's seeping and there's weeping 
 
 From its grime and slimy tears ; 
 Where the rocks are simply dangling 
 
 From the cliff that bends above, 
 And the eagles there are soaring 
 
 To protect their young and love; 
 
 [44] 
 
IN THE RANGES OF THE WEST 
 
 Where the bears, both black and grizzly, 
 
 In a sullen, angry mood. 
 Noted as they are for shyness, 
 
 Venture forth in search of food; 
 Where the mountain goats are climbing 
 
 Up the rocky cliff and steep, 
 And are searching for their feeding 
 
 As they skip and jump and leap; 
 Where the waters go a-plunging 
 
 In their madness and their roar 
 Through the dark and narrow passes, 
 
 Plunging there forever more ; 
 Mid their turbulence and wending, 
 
 Wild with ecstasy and glee. 
 Always sparkling and descending. 
 
 Rushing onward to the sea; 
 This is where I stroll and ramble, 
 
 Drinking in the mountain air; 
 And I eat and sleep and wander 
 
 In the beauty everywhere. 
 
 [45] 
 
FELLOWSHIP WITH NATURE 
 
 FELLOWSHIP WITH NATURE 
 
 The flowers, the trees, the leaves, the rocks, 
 
 the lake. 
 The ocean, flowing stream, the waterfall. 
 The brook, the beasts of field, the fowls of 
 
 air. 
 All speak to man in tones of fellowship 
 And love; and thoughts sublime are brought 
 
 forth where 
 All nature holds communion with mankind. 
 Man need not lonely be where nature speaks 
 To him of beauties in the forest haunts. 
 The highest type of thought there is in man, 
 Comes forth, resplendent, from the hill and 
 
 dale. 
 As, when in full companionship he talks 
 And there communes with woods and stones 
 
 and streams; 
 Hears birds that sing, sees squirrels gambol in 
 The trees, and chipmunks dart to their abodes ; 
 
 [46] 
 
FELLOWSHIP WITH NATURE 
 
 And breathes, inhales the sweet perfumes of 
 
 woods. 
 The sky, the setting sun, the air we breathe. 
 The changing seasons all give evidence 
 To man of plan divine in nature's work. 
 Through space, illimitable, infinite, 
 The stars and sun give light by night and day 
 For man to glorify the works of Him 
 Who gave the world and clothed with beauty it 
 For habitation, all for his delight. 
 Rejoice, then, live obedient to Him, 
 And blest is he who heeds His wondrous plan. 
 
 [47] 
 
NATURE'S WONDER SCENES 
 
 NATURE'S WONDER SCENES ' 
 
 The road winds down a gulch in a zigzag on i" 
 its way, 
 
 It leads through forest wilds where the rip- 
 pling waters play. 
 
 The tumbling, rumbling, plunging and leaping 
 
 waterway 
 Comes splashing down the stream in a mist 
 
 of foaming spray. 
 
 The whirlpool and the boulder lie 'neath the 
 
 sunlight's gleam, 
 The jagged rocks are bending above the 
 
 swirling stream. 
 
 The waterfall's a wonder, it sparkles in the 
 
 air. 
 It's pouring o'er the prec'pice in mystic beauty 
 
 rare. 
 
 [48] 
 
NATURE'S WONDER SCENES 
 
 There are glaciers in the Cascades and snow 
 
 peaks in the sky. 
 There are lakes of cold blue water upon the 
 
 mountains high. 
 
 In mountains of the Selkirks are wondrous 
 
 fields of snow, 
 They feed the raging streams in their onward 
 
 rush and flow. 
 
 The glacier fields are wonders, from them the 
 
 waters run, 
 For aeons they have tarried beneath the glare 
 
 of sun. 
 
 The Southland has its canyon, the Colorado's 
 
 Grand, 
 'Twould seem that it had opened to swallow 
 
 up the land. 
 
 With scenic walls of grandeur and the raging 
 
 water flow 
 The Colorado's winding six thousand feet 
 
 below. 
 
 [49] 
 
NATURE'S WONDER SCENES 
 
 I stand upon the brink of the greatest wonder ' 
 
 scene 
 And view, in admiration, the picture on the 
 
 screen. 
 
 The terraced walls of splendor, in crimson, f 
 
 pink and gray. 
 Two hundred miles are gleaming along the 
 
 waterway. 
 
 The Yellowstone's a wonder with nature's 
 
 pleasing thrills, 
 There are rugged scenes of grandeur mid 
 
 God's eternal hills. 
 
 The geysers play to hundreds of tourists 
 
 through the day. 
 They spout in all their splendor with gleaming 
 
 beauty spray. 
 
 The world should know the grandeur of rug- 
 ged mountain wilds. 
 
 For 'tis the place where heaven, with nature, 
 ever smiles. 
 
 [50] 
 
\ 
 
 * NATURE'S WONDER SCENES 
 
 Then would I urge the toiler, the weary and 
 
 * the worn 
 
 To bask in wonder scenes, ere they pass unto 
 h their bourn. 
 
 [51: 
 
THINGS YOU MAY HAVE MISSED 
 
 THINGS YOU MAY HAVE MISSED 
 
 Have you ever seen the splendor 
 
 Of the rising of the sun 
 And the gleaming and the beaming 
 
 When the morning has begun? 
 
 Have you ever seen the woodland 
 When the snows begin to fall 
 
 And the white flakes gather gently 
 Over woods and hills and all? 
 
 Have you ever chased the rabbits 
 Where the snows have fallen deep 
 
 O'er the hills and in the hollows, 
 Round them up like flocks of sheep ? 
 
 Have you ever stopped to listen 
 
 To a hooting owl, with fright. 
 Saying, "Who, who, who, who are you 
 Out so late this dreary night?" 
 
 [52] 
 
THINGS YOU MAY HAVE MISSED 
 
 Have you ever gone a-fishing 
 
 On a bright and sunny day 
 Up into the rugged mountains 
 
 Where the rippHng waters play? 
 
 Have you ever seen the ocean 
 With its great and swelling crest 
 
 And the ships of commerce floating 
 From the East and from the West? 
 
 Have you ever seen the grandeur 
 
 Of the setting of the sun 
 When the streams of light are golden 
 
 And the work of day is done? 
 
 If you never have been seeing 
 
 Things like these throughout your life 
 
 Then you've missed the half of living 
 In this busy world of strife. 
 
 [53] 
 
CLIMBING 
 
 CLIMBING 
 
 I've been climbing up the mountain, 
 And its peaks are wondrous high; 
 
 I've been climbing up its pathway, 
 Climbing up into the sky. 
 
 Up and up the mountain higher, 
 Step by step I wend my way; 
 
 I have reached unto the summit, 
 Where I ramble all the day. 
 
 Up above the clouds I'm strolling. 
 Where the sun is bright and fair, 
 
 And the rain below is sending 
 
 Freshness through the mountain air. 
 
 Up above the forest limit 
 
 Rocks are steeples in the sky. 
 
 High and higher I have rambled. 
 Where the eagles never fly. 
 
 [54] 
 
CLIMBING 
 
 Standing, now, upon the summit, 
 'Midst the handiwork of God, 
 
 Awe-inspiring is the stillness 
 On the height that I have trod. 
 
 Still admiring, still divining, 
 
 Can there be a thing more grand 
 
 Than the mountain scene I'm viewing 
 From the summit where I stand? 
 
 [55] 
 
THE COLUMBIA 
 
 THE COLUMBIA 
 
 A thousand miles through gorge and plain 
 
 The mighty boulders stand, 
 They check Columbia's wild career 
 
 While flowing swift and grand. 
 
 From glaciers in the northern clime, 
 From melting snow peaks grand, 
 
 Come waters roaring on their way 
 Along Columbia's strand. 
 
 The dancing, prancing, sparkling flow 
 
 Within the sunlight's gleam. 
 Is playing to the forest scenes 
 
 Adown the mountain stream. 
 
 The waters flow so swift and great 
 Through mountain glade and lea. 
 
 They pass along Columbia's strand 
 While moving to the sea. 
 
 [S6] 
 
THE COLUMBIA 
 
 The plunging, tumbling, foaming stream 
 Goes winding through the land, 
 
 Forever wending on its way 
 Along Columbia's strand. 
 
 All hail Columbia's mighty flow 
 From mountain peak and grand, 
 
 It leaps and flows and pours and roars 
 Along the shifting sand. 
 
 Down by the sea it empties wide, 
 
 It heaves a bar of sand. 
 It pours into the deep blue sea 
 
 From off Columbia's strand. 
 
 [57] 
 
GRANDFATHER'S FARM 
 
 GRANDFATHER'S FARM 
 
 My grandfather's farm in the valley, 
 It lies by the little old stream; 
 
 The spring from the hill is still flowing, 
 And sparkles in sun and the gleam. 
 
 My grandfather's farm in the woodland, 
 O many's the time there in June, 
 
 O'er hills and the hollows and meadows, 
 I've wandered along the Raccoon. 
 
 'Twas there in my childhood I wandered, 
 In fancy I roam through the scene; 
 
 I roam in the midst of the wildwood. 
 In fields that are fragrant and green. 
 
 I'd stroll in the shade of the orchard, 
 I'd stroll, when a child in my dream, 
 
 Along where the bees gathered honey 
 In meadows near by the old stream. 
 
 [58] 
 
GRANDFATHER'S FARM 
 
 My grandfather's farm in the valley, 
 How oft have I romped there in glee ; 
 
 The grass, the clover, the orchard, 
 Were ever so charming to me. 
 
 The beech tree, the sugar, the willow 
 Are part of my Hfe's early charm; 
 
 They carry me back to my childhood 
 When grandfather lived on the farm. 
 
 My grandfather's gone from the valley. 
 There never again will he tread ; 
 
 My grandfather's gone now forever; 
 He sleeps in the vale of the dead. 
 
 [59] 
 
EARLY SCENES 
 
 EARLY SCENES 
 
 Among the recollections 
 
 That oft I now recall 
 The early scenes of childhood 
 
 Are dearest of them all. 
 There was a dear old playground 
 
 Near by my boyhood home, 
 'Twas in a grand old forest 
 
 Where oft within I'd roam. 
 
 The spring time seemed the fairest 
 
 When leaves were forming new 
 Throughout the dear old forest 
 
 With sunbeams peeping through. 
 The playful, dancing sunbeams, 
 
 I've watched them by the hour 
 While playing on the bluegrass 
 
 Beneath the leafy bower. 
 
 'Twas there that squirrels builded 
 Their nests high in the trees 
 
 [60] 
 
EARLY SCENES 
 
 Within the leafy branches 
 That wafted to the breeze. 
 
 'Twas there the birds sang sweetest 
 In spring time of the year. 
 
 And in the leaves they nestled 
 Without molest or fear. 
 
 The odor from the plant life 
 
 Would scent the woodland scene, 
 The dearest haunts of youth time 
 
 Were in the forest green. 
 The forest scenes are brightest, 
 
 The brightest I recall — 
 Of early scenes of childhood 
 
 They're dearest of them all. 
 
 [6i: 
 
I'VE BEEN THINKING 
 
 I'VE BEEN THINKING 
 
 I've been thinking of the spring time 
 When the sky is clear and blue, 
 
 And of strolling on the hillside 
 When I've nothing else to do. 
 
 I've been thinking of the spring time 
 When the world is bright and fair, 
 
 Of the budding of the plant life 
 With its beauty everywhere. 
 
 I've been thinking of the sunshine 
 And the blade of grass that grows, 
 
 Of the coming of the showers 
 And the blooming of the rose. 
 
 I've been thinking of the open 
 
 Where the pasture fields are green, 
 
 And the bluebells are in blossom 
 And the violets are seen. 
 
 [62] 
 
I'VE BEEN THINKING 
 
 I've been thinking of the country 
 Where the winding roads are fine, 
 
 And the strolling is delightful 
 In the spring and summer time. 
 
 I've been thinking of the country, 
 Of the land the farmer tills, 
 
 And the lowing of the cattle 
 That are feeding on the hills. 
 
 I've been thinking of an outing, 
 Just to lounge about awhile 
 
 Where the greeting is informal 
 And I'm welcomed with a smile. 
 
 I've been thinking of the country, 
 Of the farmer and his wife, 
 
 Where they live and rear their children 
 In the frugal ways of life. 
 
 I've been thinking, simply thinking. 
 Of the way the farmers live, 
 
 And the blessings that await them 
 For the labor that they give. 
 
 [63] 
 
I'VE BEEN THINKING 
 
 I've been thinking, simply thinking, 
 That the simple life is best 
 
 When I stroll about the country, 
 Strolling, simply as a guest. 
 
 [64] 
 
ECHOES OF SPRINGTIME 
 
 ECHOES OF SPRINGTIME 
 
 Over the woodland dense and wild, 
 
 Over the hill tops bold, 
 Through the lowland and the dale 
 
 Charms of the woods are told. 
 
 Over the landscape bright and fair, 
 
 Over the verdure green, 
 With the sunshine and the rain 
 
 Signs of the spring are seen. 
 
 Over the glare of mountain top, 
 
 Under the heat of sun. 
 From the melting of the snow 
 
 Streams through the gorges run. 
 
 Down in the chasms dark and deep, 
 
 Over the rocks below, 
 Plunging through the narrow pass 
 
 Onward the waters flow. 
 
 [65] 
 
ECHOES OF SPRINGTIME 
 
 Splashing and foaming as they go, 
 
 Silvery sparkles gleam, 
 Playing in the bracing air 
 
 Over the frothing stream. 
 
 Over the meadows sweet and clean, 
 
 Skipping about in May, 
 Lambs are playing on the green 
 
 All of the balmy day. 
 
 Out by the gently flowing stream, 
 Out with the line and pole, 
 
 Barefoot lads are on their way 
 Down to the fishing hole. 
 
 Under the spreading maple bough 
 Where there is rest for me, 
 
 I am lounging in the breeze 
 Under the leafy tree. 
 
 [66] 
 
THE PICNIC 
 
 THE PICNIC 
 
 Down beneath the willow tree 
 On the velvet carpet green 
 
 Where the rippling waters flow 
 Boys and girls are seen^ 
 
 On a clean and grassy plot 
 In the shade for you and me 
 
 Tablecloths are spread about 
 Underneath the tree. 
 
 Laden well with food to eat 
 With the best there is around. 
 
 Gather we at noonday lunch 
 Seated on the ground. 
 
 There we eat most heartily 
 In the shade of willow tree; 
 
 In the balmy air perfume 
 Eat we joyfully. 
 
 [67] 
 
THE PICNIC 
 
 On the glassy lake so fine 
 In the boats we row and glide, 
 
 Singing as we come and go 
 On its bosom wide. 
 
 Up within the tree top tall 
 
 Where the birds are wont to sing, 
 
 There they skip from bough to bough 
 Happy in the spring. 
 
 Where the tender grass is grown 
 And the dew is gathering 
 
 We are lounging on the green 
 In the early spring. 
 
 [68] 
 
THE DEW 
 
 THE DEW 
 
 The dew, the dew, the beautiful dew, 
 It comes at the close of the day; 
 
 Refreshing, gives vigor and life 
 To plants that wither away. 
 
 The dew, the dew, the beautiful dew, 
 It gathers so gentle and sweet ; 
 
 It sparkles and glitters and smiles. 
 Retards and tempers the heat. 
 
 All radiant the sun in the eve. 
 The sky in the morning is blue; 
 
 The flowers that ope in the night. 
 In morning, glisten with dew. 
 
 The dew, the dew, the heavenly dew, 
 It comes in the stillness of night; 
 
 It touches and tenderly soothes, 
 Until the breaking of light. 
 
 [69] 
 
MOTHER 
 
 MOTHER 
 
 Are you weeping now, my mother? 
 
 Have I disappointed you? 
 I have often heard you praying 
 
 That I might be good and true. 
 
 I have wandered far, dear mother, 
 From the straight and narrow way; 
 
 Yet, I'm thinking always of you 
 And the way you'd often pray. 
 
 Thave traveled far, dear mother, 
 I have sailed the wintry sea; 
 
 And the world is hard and cruel. 
 It has often seemed to me. 
 
 I could ne'er forget you, mother, 
 Though I wandered far away, 
 
 And the blessings that you gave me 
 Seemed to follow day by day. 
 
 [70] 
 
MOTHER 
 
 Would I were as you would have me, 
 Pure as gold and true as steel, 
 
 For I know that you are praying 
 As you did when I would kneel. 
 
 I remember when you taught me 
 
 In my Httle trundle bed, 
 How to ask to be forgiven 
 
 For the things that I had said. 
 
 I remember that you told me 
 God was good and ever near, 
 
 That He*d promised all the children 
 If they prayed that He would hear. 
 
 Do not weep for me, dear mother, 
 Let me see your smile, instead, 
 
 As I did when I was near you 
 In my little trundle bed. 
 
 [71] 
 
LOVE 
 
 LOVE 
 
 I love to sit by the flowing stream 
 
 And watch the leaves go by; 
 I love to see the fleeting clouds 
 
 As they flit across the sky. 
 I love to sit by the flowing stream, 
 
 Beneath the willow tree, 
 And listen to the birds that sing 
 
 As they fly about in glee. 
 
 I love to stand on the mountain top 
 
 Amid the snowy peaks, 
 And listen to the wondrous voice 
 
 Of the living God that speaks. 
 I love to stroll up the mountain side 
 
 And watch the sunlight's gleam; 
 I love the dear old hill and dale 
 
 As I do the flowing stream. 
 
 I love to sit by the garden gate 
 And watch the bud that grows, 
 
 [72] 
 
LOVE 
 
 I love to view the garden scene 
 Where I scent the blooming rose. 
 
 I love to sit by the cradle side 
 And watch the babe that sleeps, 
 
 I love to watch the mother's love 
 And the one who loves and weeps. 
 
 I love to sit by the surging sea 
 
 Where breakers come and go, 
 I love to watch the swelling crest 
 
 Where the tide doth ebb and flow. 
 I love to think of the love that's true 
 
 And fresh as morning dew ; 
 I love to think that God is love 
 
 And the love that's always true. 
 
 I7i] 
 
SPEAK KINDLY 
 
 SPEAK KINDLY 
 
 Why should you speak unkindly 
 
 Of foes, or any one? 
 Why should you judge your fellows 
 
 For things they've never done? 
 Speak only good of others 
 
 When speaking to a friend; 
 You may not be much better 
 
 Than gossip that you send. 
 
 The world is full of beauty, 
 
 You need not see the bad; 
 Just hold your tongue, my brother, 
 
 And don't make others sad. 
 The words that you have spoken, 
 
 Though even in a jest. 
 May pierce the heart, in sorrow. 
 
 Until the final rest. 
 
 Speak gently, kindly, brother. 
 Of all of whom you speak; 
 
 [74] 
 
SPEAK KINDLY 
 
 The world will be the brighter 
 And you will help the weak. 
 
 But those who always gossip, 
 Misfortune will befall — 
 
 The unkind words they've spoken. 
 They never can recall. 
 
 You cannot know the reason 
 
 Why many things are done; 
 So, do not speak unkindly 
 
 Of foes, or any one. 
 Do what you can, my brother. 
 
 With heart that's kind and true, 
 And others will be grateful 
 
 For things you've tried to do. 
 
 [75] 
 
GOOD BYE 
 
 GOOD BYE 
 
 I take my leave for distant land, 
 Good bye, old friend, good bye; 
 
 I've lived beside you many years, 
 Good bye, old friend, good bye. 
 
 I've had your help in many ways, 
 I've struggled by your side, 
 
 Enjoyed your friendship good and ti*ue, 
 While you and I have tried. 
 
 I've seen the land wherein we live. 
 The wealth that it has brought 
 
 To you and me through all these years 
 That we have lived and wrought. 
 
 Our friendship ne'er has been denied, 
 I count my friends my worth; 
 
 'Tis better, far, to have our friends 
 Than all the wealth of earth. 
 
 [76] 
 
GOOD BYE 
 
 My neighbors, kind and true have been, 
 
 And grateful should I be 
 For all the blessings I've received 
 
 While living here with thee. 
 
 The greatest sin in this old world. 
 
 Ingratitude, I deem. 
 And should I leave without regret 
 
 Ungrateful would it seem. 
 
 I take my leave for distant land, 
 Good bye, old friend, good bye; 
 
 I've lived beside you many years. 
 Good bye, old friend, good bye. 
 
 [77] 
 
BILL WATKINS 
 
 BILL WATKINS 
 
 Bill Watkins is an optimist, 
 
 As every one can see. 
 He's sober and industrious 
 
 And cheerful as can be. 
 
 He sees the good and not the bad, 
 
 In everything that goes; 
 He says this world is good enough 
 
 For any one he knows. 
 
 He goes about his work with will. 
 
 And doesn't shirk a bit, 
 And what his neighbors have to say 
 
 He doesn't care a whit. 
 
 He bought a piece of land one day, 
 With title good and clear, 
 
 Agreed to pay upon the tract 
 A goodly sum each year. 
 
 [78] 
 
BILL WATKINS 
 
 He built a house upon this land 
 And worked and tugged along ; 
 
 His neighbors said and said again 
 It wasn't worth a song. 
 
 He went to work and plowed the land, 
 
 With horses all his own, 
 He planted corn and other truck 
 
 And then a crop was grown. 
 
 The neighbors now did all agree 
 
 That he was one of few; 
 They merely changed their gossiping 
 
 And said that he would do. 
 
 He was, indeed, a thrifty man, 
 Because he made things go; 
 
 Nothing at all went wrong with him 
 When the price of grain was low. 
 
 Bill was a man, a manly man. 
 
 He'd never fret nor stew, 
 He'd pleasure and encouragement 
 
 In everything he'd do. 
 
 [79] 
 
BILL WATKINS 
 
 He made himself a useful man 
 
 In doing what he could, 
 To help along the church and school 
 
 In all the neighborhood. 
 
 His task was hard 'most all the time, 
 But strong in mind and health. 
 
 He loved his work and went ahead 
 And added to his wealth. 
 
 And when he'd gathered all the wealth 
 
 That any one should want. 
 He started out around the world 
 
 Upon a little jaunt. 
 
 He went aboard the greatest ship 
 That sailed for foreign shores, 
 
 He sat around upon the deck 
 And chatted with the bores. 
 
 Far out upon the wintry sea 
 
 His wife began to cry, 
 '*A storm is hard upon us now, 
 
 The waves are rolling high. 
 
 [80] 
 
BILL WATKINS 
 
 **My head is swaying to and fro, 
 
 My heart is beating quick, 
 For everything is coming up 
 
 And I am feeling sick." 
 
 And fierce and strong still swept the gale 
 
 With all its might and main ; 
 Bill only shouted to his wife, 
 
 "We'll soon be home again." 
 
 "Fear not, my dear, fear not," said he, 
 
 "It's just a little breeze; 
 The ship's as strong and safe a one 
 
 As ever sailed the seas." 
 
 "If I get out of this," she cried, 
 
 "And reach my little home, 
 I'll never go again to sail 
 
 Upon the briny foam." 
 
 Then down upon her knees she went 
 
 And wept most bitter tears; 
 She prayed the Lord to save her from 
 
 The worst of all her fears. 
 [8i] 
 
BILL WATKINS 
 
 ''Oh ! should I die upon this ship 
 
 And fall asleep in Thee, 
 Cast Thou me not to angry waves 
 
 That roll upon the sea." 
 
 "O no ! my dear, O no !" said Bill, 
 "If such a thing should be, 
 
 I'll take you to our Httle home 
 And place you 'neath a tree." 
 
 And Bill was now a favorite 
 With all the folks he knew; 
 
 He'd been around this big, old world 
 And learned a thing or two. 
 
 He visited Jerusalem 
 
 Where Christ was crucified, 
 
 He followed up the river Nile 
 And saw that land of pride. 
 
 He touched upon the coast en route 
 
 Along the southern sea, 
 Exploring everything in sight 
 
 From Rome to Galilee. 
 
 [82] 
 
BILL WATKINS 
 
 He visited the frigid zone 
 Where dwell the Eskimo; 
 
 He saw the land of midnight sun 
 With all its ice and snow. 
 
 He sailed again the wintry sea 
 Across the swelling foam, 
 
 Returning to America, 
 
 His native land and home. 
 
 He's back upon his little farm 
 As happy as you please. 
 
 He's telling stories of his trip 
 And taking life at ease. 
 
 [83] 
 
MEMORIES 
 
 MEMORIES 
 
 Tenderly strewn are the flowers that are 
 
 grown 
 Over the graves of the dear ones we've 
 
 known ; 
 Silent they lie in the vale of the dead, 
 Hallowing ground that we wantonly tread. 
 Father and mother have crossed o'er the bar, 
 Entered have they where the gates stand ajar; 
 Sadly we miss them, as thoughts we recall 
 Forever that hang on memory's wall. 
 
 Brother and sister have passed o'er the way, 
 Leaving, O leaving, forever to stay; 
 Silent we weep, growing older in years 
 Over our loss we have watered with tears. 
 List to the voice of the fast-fading year 
 And of our youth that will soon disappear; 
 List to the voice that is dearest of all, 
 Enchanted and hung on memory's wall. 
 
 [84] 
 
MEMORIES 
 
 Sleeping, yes, sleeping, there under the sky, 
 Young and the old, where they quietly lie ; 
 Sleeping and sleeping, forever they sleep, 
 Under the green that we faithfully keep. 
 Blossoms have faded from youth and our glee, 
 Flowers no longer are blooming for me ; 
 Flowers that bloom in the summer and fall, 
 Reminding, they hang on memory's wall. 
 
 [8s] 
 
I'VE BEEN TO SEE THE OLD HOME PLACE 
 
 I'VE BEEN TO SEE THE OLD 
 HOME PLACE 
 
 I've been to see the old home place, I longed 
 
 to see once more; 
 I wandered o'er the hill and dale I'd wandered 
 
 o'er before. 
 The scenes were not at all the same, the scenes 
 
 upon the farm, 
 The buildings all had been removed where 
 
 stood the house and barn. 
 New buildings had replaced the old, as fine as 
 
 seldom seen; 
 'Twas not the same old home to me, the home 
 
 upon the green. 
 
 The orchard was depleted some, the apples 
 
 were but few. 
 From off the place they'd disappeared, the 
 
 plums and cherries, too. 
 [86] 
 
I'VE BEEN TO SEE THE OLD HOME PLACE 
 
 The forest scenes were not the same, they 
 
 looked so queer to me, 
 The woodman's ax had done its work and 
 
 scarcely left a tree. 
 The worm-rail fence could not be found, the 
 
 fence that used to be, 
 The woven wire was there instead that 
 
 stretched across the lea. 
 
 The same old posts were in the ground, the 
 
 posts of years ago. 
 From which the gate had always hung 
 
 a-swinging to and fro. 
 The spring was there beside the hill, the water, 
 
 just as cold 
 As when I drank the sparkling draught in 
 
 former days of old. 
 One place there was, most dear to me, that 
 
 was the fishing hole ; 
 I often went on Sunday there with hook and 
 
 line and pole. 
 
 The mill that stood nearby the stream looked 
 just the same to me 
 
 [87] 
 
I'VE BEEN TO SEE THE OLD HOME PLACE 
 
 As when I took the grist to grind in youth so 
 blithe and free. 
 
 The swimming hole I visited, 'twas 'neath the 
 willow tree, 
 
 No change at all had taken place so far as I 
 could see. 
 
 Those days were fine old days for me, I was 
 a barefoot boy; 
 
 I'd run and romp and climb and play in end- 
 less ways of joy. 
 
 I'd drive the cows beyond the hills, the place 
 
 for them to graze, 
 I'd go for them at eventide through all the 
 
 summer days. 
 We didn't have the auto then, the travel was 
 
 more sane; 
 We never dreamed there'd ever be the deadly 
 
 aeroplane. 
 These days are not the days of old, they're 
 
 classed as great and grand; 
 New-fangled ways of doing things I can't 
 
 quite understand. 
 
 [88] 
 
THE SEASONS 
 
 THE SEASONS 
 
 Grass is growing in the spring time, 
 Beasts are feeding o'er the way; 
 
 Lowing herds are wending slowly 
 From their moorings of the day. 
 
 Streams are flowing through the forest, 
 Birds are singing here and there; 
 
 Breezes soft are gently wafting 
 Sweet with music everywhere. 
 
 Woful heat comes in the summer, 
 
 Vegetation grows for all; 
 We are reaping, we are storing 
 
 Through the heat and through the fall. 
 
 In the autumn comes a sadness, 
 Leaves are falling from the tree; 
 
 It was willed by the Creator, 
 Thus it was, 'twill always be. 
 
 [89] 
 
THE SEASONS 
 
 Hoary frost comes in the winter, 
 Wintry blasts blow fierce and fast; 
 
 Hearth stones, warm, are ever glowing 
 Till the winter storms are past. 
 
 Autumn, winter, spring and summer, 
 Come and go as years go by; 
 
 And with blessings they are calling 
 For us all to live and try. 
 
 [90] 
 
MAN'S DESTINY 
 
 MAN'S DESTINY 
 
 The One who tempers winds and stills the 
 
 waves 
 And watches over every living thing, 
 The ruler of the universe, leaves man 
 To shape his destiny, conform to the 
 Divine laws and rejoice in all His works. 
 To man is given right divine to live. 
 To choose between the right and wrong in 
 
 life; 
 And he who thinks and acts upon his thoughts 
 Within the scope of reason, arms himself 
 With weapons none may challenge and with- 
 stand. 
 But he who grovels in iniquity, 
 Defies immutability of laws 
 That govern universal rights of man, 
 Forgets commands of Him who doeth all 
 Things well, doth shape his destiny in doom. 
 
 [91] 
 
THE OLD SWIMMING HOLE 
 
 THE OLD SWIMMING HOLE 
 
 O many's the time when in youth I would 
 
 stroll 
 Along with boys to the old swimming hole. 
 O many's the time in the blistering heat 
 I'd wander away with the others to meet 
 In shade of the trees and the calm of the day 
 To linger awhile in some mischief and play. 
 And oft were the times when at call of the roll 
 We gathered to go to the old swimming hole. 
 
 We'd gather in bunches, and in our bare feet 
 Would wade through the grass that was 
 
 blooming and sweet. 
 How dear the remembrance when there I 
 
 would stroll, 
 And dear to my heart was the old swimming 
 
 hole 
 When first I would wander away to the pool 
 
 [92] 
 
THE OLD SWIMMING HOLE 
 
 With playmates that gathered at close of the 
 
 school. 
 O oft were the times when at close of the poll 
 I'd go with the boys to the old swimming hole. 
 
 The old swimming hole, I remember so well, 
 'Twas down in the stream in the shades of 
 
 the dell. 
 The dearest of haunts was the old swimming 
 
 hole; 
 How oft in my youth to its bosom I stole. 
 O where are the boys that I romped with in 
 
 play? 
 And where are the friends of the youth of 
 
 my day? 
 O where are the boys that were jolly and 
 
 droll? 
 They surely are gone from the old swimming 
 
 hole. 
 
 O shall I again clasp their hands in my own 
 And feel the glad welcome that once I had 
 
 known ? 
 Or, shall I again while I'm wandering o'er 
 
 [93] 
 
THE OLD SWIMMING HOLE 
 
 This land of my pilgrimage see them no more ? 
 O many^s the time in the sun and the gleam 
 O'er meadows with boys I would stroll to the 
 
 stream. 
 You talk of your wealth and you talk of your 
 
 roll 
 But give me the days of the old swimming 
 
 hole. 
 
 t94] 
 
THERE IS NO DEATH 
 
 THERE IS NO DEATH 
 
 The leaf has fallen from the tree, 
 Becomes a part of earth; 
 
 It comes again in fairer form, 
 Renewed in second birth. 
 
 In vapor, water rises from 
 The sea, descends on land; 
 
 Returns, again, from whence it came 
 And filters through the sand. 
 
 Man gropes his weary way through life, 
 
 He passes to the grave; 
 His soul, immortal, ever lives; 
 
 To earth, his body gave. 
 
 And things, material, decay; 
 
 The higher life lives on; 
 There is no death, man's born again. 
 
 His body, only, gone. 
 
 [95] 
 
MORNING 
 
 MORNING 
 
 The first dim light of the morning 
 Through mist of gray in the dawn, 
 
 Comes forth in a garb of glory 
 To welcome toilers of brawn. 
 
 The sun in morning shines brightly 
 With streams of radiant hue, 
 
 Lights up the earth with its gladness, 
 The sky with beautiful blue. 
 
 The air is laden with fragrance 
 From plants about us we see, 
 
 The early light of the morning 
 Brings forth its beauty for me. 
 
 The youth, whose life is so gallant, 
 Surmising, ventures to win. 
 
 His faith and hope are surprising. 
 When early morning comes in. 
 
 [96] 
 
MORNING 
 
 Success in life he is planning, 
 Of fame and fortune he dreams; 
 
 His life is wondrously charming 
 In early morning it seems. 
 
 Thus, he who'd win in the struggle 
 Will start with rise of the sun, 
 
 He'll shoulder care with its burden 
 Before the noon has begun. 
 
 [97] 
 
THE DOG 
 
 THE DOG 
 
 With wealth and honor and standing, 
 Your friends are seeking for you; 
 
 In sickness, poverty, sorrow, 
 Your friends are never so true. 
 
 The people, who're ready and willing 
 And prone to fall at your feet, 
 
 Are first to vex and desert you 
 When with reverses you meet. 
 
 Your reputation and honor, 
 
 In time unguarded by you. 
 May fly away in a moment 
 
 And leave you friends that are few. 
 
 There's one unselfish and faithful 
 That counts not gold at its worth ; 
 
 He lives and stands by his master 
 Through all his troubles on earth. 
 
 [98] 
 
THE DOG 
 
 He asks for nothing that's better 
 Than guard you day and at night; 
 
 In sickness, trouble and sorrow 
 For you, he's ready to fight. 
 
 He's ever ready and willing 
 To serve and be at your side, 
 
 Defend and follow you always 
 Where e'er you go or reside. 
 
 His love is true and as constant 
 As stars that twinkle above; 
 
 He watches over his master, 
 And none can question his love. 
 
 He's absolutely unselfish, 
 
 A friend that's never untrue; 
 
 If you are only a pauper. 
 His love is constant for you. 
 
 [99] 
 
STORY OF A MOUSE 
 
 STORY OF A MOUSE 
 
 A little mouse said to her children at play 
 "rm planning to tell you a story to-day." 
 
 The little mice eager, and all very good, 
 Surrounded their mother as little mice should. 
 
 "Now, children, I'm glad your attention you'll 
 
 give, 
 I'll tell you all how I have managed to live. 
 
 *'My parents were cunning and sly as could be. 
 They'd scamper and scamper for brother and 
 me. 
 
 "So kind and so good to us children were they. 
 They wanted us happy throughout the whole 
 day. 
 
 "Advice they would give us and hand it down 
 
 pat, 
 'Beware of the trap and the old tommy cat.' 
 
 [lOO] 
 
STORY OF A MOUSE 
 
 "I didn't think much of advice in those days, 
 Nor little I cared for their silly old ways. 
 
 "My father and mother were both very good, 
 And high in esteem with their neighbors they 
 stood. 
 
 ''They did what they could in the giving advice, 
 Devised many ways for the little sly mice 
 
 "In which to escape from the snares of the day 
 And do as mice should while they hunted 
 their prey. 
 
 "Now, after some time I concluded they knew 
 Much better than I what their children 
 should do. 
 
 "Those days were then happy for brother and 
 
 me, 
 We'd scamper all over so gaily and free. 
 
 "O happy are mice who their parents obey. 
 And happy are they as they scamper and play ; 
 lioil 
 
I 
 
 STORY OF A MOUSE 
 
 "But always remember, to keep from a scrap 
 
 You'll have to steer clear of the cat and the 
 
 trap." 
 
 PC 'It -^ [I02] 
 

 ^"^" 
 
 <\ ^ . • . . . 
 
 ■^ 
 
DOBBSBROS. (x- o « c <<> 
 
 LIBRARY BeNOING -^^ , ^ -T^Nrs " ,<• ^*> 
 
 ^ 
 
 JUL 69 
 
 ^ ST. AUGUSTINE j. 
 
 "^^^32084 , ^^