LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SAN DIEGO presented to the UNIVERSITY LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SAN DIEGO by Tom Ham "KIDDIES SIX" A MODEST LITTLE VOLUME OF VERSE FROM THE PEN OF WILL M. MAUPIN WITH A FOREWORD FROM RICHARD L. METCALFE DONE INTO PRINT BY UNION WORKMEN IN THE EMPLOY OF THE CLAFLIN PRINTF.RY, UNIVERSITY PLACE LINCOLN, NEBR., OCTOBER I, 1911 FIRST EDITION, TWO THOUSAND KIDDIES SIX DEDICATION My Own Children, and to the Children of Jill Men ^very where: - From the pink-faced Newest jtfrrival to the Biggest Boy who has flown the nestthe children whose love and laughter make the world worth while; the unfolding of whose precious lives is a constant miracle, mystery and entertainment; the responsibility for whom acts as a balance wheel to keep us from running wild; whose caresses are balm for every wound received on life's battlefield; whose happiness is ample reward for every sacrifice; whose sorrows and troubles make us forget our own to them, in the hope that something herein may add a bit of joy to their lives and give evi- dence of the love I bear them, this little volume is lovingly dedicated. WILL M. MAUPIN. Lincoln, Nebraska, August, 191 1. KIDDIES SIX A FOREWORD Some one has said that "Poets are all who love who feel great truths and tell them." That being true, Will M. Maupin is entitled to rank among the real poets. Some of the sweetest things I have ever read came from the pen of this talented man; and over and over again during a quarter of a century he has made my own heart go pit-a-pat with the music of his words. " 'Give me a theme!' the little poet cried, 'And I will do my part,' "'Tis not a theme you need,' the world replied; 'You need a heart.' " Mr. Maupin has "the heart," and he could not, if he would, conceal it in his song. If poetry is something to make us wiser and better by continually revealing those types of beauty and truth which God has set in all men's souls, then Will M. Maupin has rendered a service to mankind. I am sure that everyone who reads "Kiddies Six" will feel that he has advanced many miles along the road to Loveville. The gates of that beautiful city open wide to the music of a pen that would have made Mr. Maupin the master of millions of money of the realm if half the loving heartbeats it has brought to life could be coined into gold. KICHARD L. METCALFE. KIDDIES SIX MY PRAYER God, for the gladness of this day, Grateful, I come tonight. Through all the days to come, dear Lord, Guide Thou my steps aright. I thank Thee, God, for health and friends, And strength to work with cheer; Grant me refreshing sleep this night, Free from all care and fear. And may I waken calmed, renewed, And ready for the day; Whether of sorrow or of joy, Help me to keep Thy way. Grant, Father, purity of heart, And courage for the right; Grant me the gift of cheer alway, And favor in Thy sight. Amen. KIDDIES SIX VAIN SURMISING Mamma's knitting little stockin's just as cute as they can be, An' I wonder who will get them, 'cause they're much too small for me. Just th' littlest, tweeniest stockin's, almost like my dollies wear, But they ain't made for my dollies, 'cause they both have got a pair. An' some dresses long an' ruffled, an' th' sweetest, softest lace An' a lot of other fixin's mamma sews with smilin' face. My, I just can't help but wonder when such pretty things I see Who will get them when they're finished, 'cause they're all too small for me. Yesterday, when I was playin' with my dollies on th' floor Mamma stood an' watched a minute as she leaned against the door; Then she smiled at me and asked me if I wouldn't rather dress A cute little baby brother, an' of course I answered, yes. "Will you get me one?" I asked her; but she smiled and walked away To sew more on little dresses purt' nigh all the livelong day. An' I couldn't help but wonder for whose child they all could be, For I know I couldn't wear 'em 'cause they're all too small for me. KIDDIES SIX 7 Just last night I asked my papa if a brother cost too much, An' he laughed an' said to mamma, "Don't her questions beat the Dutch?" Then my mamma smiled and kissed me an' said, "Well, perhaps some day We will get one from the doctor as he drives along this way." So all day here by the window I have watched for Doctor Strong, An' I wish that he would hurry, 'cause I hate to wait so long. If he hasn't got a baby he must get one, for, you see, All the dresses mamma's making are a lot too small for me. PROM THE VALLEY No, I ain't a carin', doctor, whether it be girl or boy, Though f'r weeks I've calculated that I'd like t' have th' joy Of a man child t' come after an' t' bear his father's name; But a girl or a boy child, doctor, I confess it's jus' th' same Till I know that she who brung it from th' shadow o' th' vale With th' col' damp on her forehead an' her cheeks so thin an' pale, Is a goin' t' stay with me that is what I want t' know, 'Cause if she can't journey with me, then I jus' don't want t' go. 8 KIDDIES SIX Boy or girl I ain't a carin' till she who's a layin' there With th' sunshine of th' old days still a gleamin' in her hair, Puts her hand in mine an' whispers, as she did in days of old, "I'll go with you on life's journey," an' th' skies were bright as gold Till she smiles again an' presses her wan, fevered hand in mine An' clings to it like th' tendrils of th' mornin' glory vine, I'm not earin' if th' baby is a daughter or a son, F'r I'm thinkin' of another, an' yon suff'rer is th' one. Feelin' all right, is she, doctor? See, she's smilin' up at me An' the old love-light is shinin' brighter 'n than it uster be. An' a little bit o' color in her cheeks begins t' shine Like it did away back yonder when she laid her hand in mine. Now we'll jus' inquire out yonder where we hear that little cry If th' stork has brung a daughter or a son say, doc- tor, I Wisht you'd just inquire an' tell me I'm a brimmin' o'er with joy. Glory, halleluja, doctor! F'r th' stork has brung a boy! KIDDIES SIX WHERE PLEASURE IS You may think you are enjoying all the good there is in life When you bend your mind to winning big rewards in business strife. You may think you're having pleasure when you play the social game, Or imagine you are happy as you reap rewards of fame. You may watch the gold and glitter of the ever passing throng, And imagine life is pleasant as a summer evening's song. But in this life's greatest pleasure you will never have a part Till a baby's tiny fingers reach and twine about your heart. You may think that gold will purchase all the good life has in store ; You may think life is worth living but to reach and grasp for more. You may travel foreign countries, you may sail the ocean's foam, And imagine greatest pleasure may be found away from home. You may lead in the procession marching on to great success, Or imagine you are happy in the battle's storm and stress ; But towards the goal of pleasure you've not even made a start Till a baby's tiny fingers reach and twine about your heart. 10 KIDDIES SIX 0, the lights of home! How pleasant when the tired worker sees Beams that flash to him a welcome through the nodding, bending trees! O, the home sounds! How the music rings and swells upon the air When the little home's door closes, shutting out the toil and care ! 0, the laughter of the children! How it lifts tho weary load From the worker's tired shoulders as he rests beside the road! "What a wealth of love and pleasure from the very mo- ment start "When a baby's tiny fingers reach and twine about your heart! FOR ME I ask not wealth or golden store, Nor right to rule my fellow man. Just this I ask, and nothing more, To live my life as best I can. I ask not fame, nor high estate, Nor argosies upon the sea. I only ask that loved ones wait To give sweet welcome unto me. I ask no crown of high finance, Nor plaudits from the crowding throng. I only ask a man's fair chance To save my loved ones from all wrong. I ask not for the pomp and power Of those who rule from golden throne. I only ask that every hour I can provide well for my own. KIDDIES SIX 11 DICKEY BOY "Now tell me a 'story," says wee Dickey Boy, When night pins her robe with a star; When hushed is the strife of the workaday life And troubled tomorrow's afar. "Now tell me a 'tory," and cuddling close, His little head pressed o'er my heart, He smiles as he waits for the tale Dad relates "Let's see; now how does it start?" "It's 'bout a big, black bear," says wee Dickey Boy, As he cuddles up closer to me. And thus well begun the bear story is spun To wee Dickey Boy on my knee. "P'ease tell it aden," murmurs wee Dickey Boy, But e 're the old tale is retold Wee Dickey Boy's feet are soft pressing the street That is paved with sweet Slumberland's gold. Sometimes "Sing a song" is wee Dickey Boy's plea, And Dad's up against it for fair; For he lacks many things a man needs when he sings, Including the tone and the air. But to wee Dickey Boy Dad's a singer of fame, So Dad warbles of "birds in the pie"- "Dat's dood; sing aden," says Dickey Boy when He tries to rub sleep from his eye. Then of the old soldier with one wooden leg, And his comrade, the sailor, I hum Till his soft, happy sighs and his tired closed eyes Inform me the sandman has come. Then I kiss the sweet lips of my wee Dickey Boy, And down in my heart 'way down deep I know fairies and gnomes sing to him as he roams Through Slumbertown, county of Sleep. 12 KIDDIES SIX THE BABY He's a roly-poly, cunning little mite, Such a smiling, dancing, cooing, elfin sprite, That his smile makes burdens lighter, And his love makes dark days brighter, And his presence gives a feeling of delight. Such a constant source of happiness and joy Is this rosy-lipped and brown-eyed little boy. Such a funny little language that he speaks Little gurgles, little cooings, little squeaks. But each little intonation Bears its bit of information, And the cunning little dimples in his cheeks, Coming, going, like the sunbeams in their play, Lighten up my little cottage ev'ry day. When I feel his cunning fingers on my face, Feel the little lines of love his fingers trace, With no king, though high his station, Loyal, strong or wide his nation, Would I trade "for keeps" my humble lot or place. For no kingly place could ever give the joy That I feel when playing with the baby boy. When the angels hover o'er him as he sleeps, And their loving care a constant vigil keeps, Who can tell the joy I'm feeling When the love light is revealing Ev'ry smile that o'er his rosy visage creeps? Such a joy no kingly ransom e'er could buy; And we have it daily, darling, you and I. God watch over you, my baby, every day; Guard thy footsteps as you journey on life's way. Keep your feet from ever straying, KIDDIES SIX 13 Every wrongful action staying Be thy life a life of service this I pray. May your heart be ever loyal, brave and true All our hopes, dear little boy, are fixed on you. RICHARD METCALFE MAUPIN Funny little fellow, with a fuzzy little head, With a face so small and red, Lying on your dainty bed Precious little atom, of God's glory but a part, You have walked into my heart, Nestled there right from the start. And the touch of your wee fingers gives a joy That no gold could ever purchase, little boy. Cunning little fellow with your wond'ring eyes of blue Looking up with startled view On the great world strange and new; Dainty little fellow, such a tiny little mite Lying on your pillow white Blinking at the softened light; You're a messenger from heaven, God's envoy, With a wealth of love and laughter, little boy. Darling little fellow, starting out on life's highway, On your little head I pray Richest blessings day by day. Sturdy little fellow, with your little hand in mine, 'Round you all my heartstrings twine, 'Round you shines a light divine. May your life be one of service and of joy ; Life that is well worth the living, little boy. 14 KIDDIES SIX THE SECRET 'Twas th' funniest thing, and the way we laughed As we sat there all alone, Would have made one think we both were daft If the truth were not made known. But the baby laughed 'cause she saw it first, And she shook her sides with glee ; And then the fun of it quickly burst Upon her old Dad that's me. The way it happened was just this way : Baby and I were there, She in the crib on the pillows lay, I in my easy chair. The warm sun shone in the cosy room And lighted the baby's face Till it looked as pure as the lily's bloom, And fair as the lily's grace. The baby looked at her Dad a while, Her blue eyes full of fun, And over her face a little smile Rippled and broke and run. Dad smiled right back she smiled some more Then both just shook with glee ; And mamma peeped in at the open door To see what the fun might be. But the baby holds the secret well Never a word says she. The joke was bully, and she won't tell; And neither will Dad that's me. But, 0, 'twas a wonderful joke we had, Just shared between us two, Baby Blue Eyes and her Doting Dad And don't you wish you knew? KIDDIES SIX 15 WONDERFUL Huh! What care I for all this talk Of war with brash Japan? And what care I for "yellow peril," The pigtailed Chinaman? Let warriors clash and cannon roar And spread war 's reckless ruth ; I've got no time to notice it The baby's got a tooth. They tell me Mr. Harriman With greedy, lustful grasp, Has got the railroads gathered in His sternly squeezing clasp. But I'm not worried. Greater things Than railroad grabs, forsooth, Demand my strict attention now The baby's got a tooth. The president and Foraker May scrap till they are through; The whole canal bunch may resign And vanish from our view Without a bit of interest To me to tell the truth The biggest thing in sight today Is baby's brand new tooth! BABY BLUE EYES Baby Blue Eyes, Baby Blue Eyes! What has the future in hiding? Is it the joy for the loving and wise ? 16 KIDDIES SIX Never a cloud there to dim the bright skies? Sunshine of joytime where laughter ne'er dies? All in the future abiding? Baby Bed Lips, Baby Ked Lips! What is in store for the morrow? Flowers to touch with your soft finger tips ? Pathways of roses where love ever trips ? Nectar of gladness the hummingbird sips? Never a care nor a sorrow? Baby Brown Hair, Baby Brown Hair! What of the years coming after ? Never a burden of want nor of care ? Never a sorrow to own or to share? Nothing but happiness spread everywhere? Sunshine, and joy time and laughter? Baby Pink Toes, Baby Pink Toes ! If for thee years I were making, Nothing you'd know of the weary world's woes; Never you'd walk where grim poverty grows; Life would be sweet and as bright as the rose Love guard thy sleeping and waking! THE YOUNGEST BOY He's dreaming of a hobbyhorse And lots of pretty toys; He's dreaming of tin trumpets and All things that make a noise. He's dreaming of a soldier cap, And of a tenor drum And smiling while he's waiting for Old Santa Glaus to come. KIDDIES SIX He's dreaming of the reindeer That haul the Christmas sleigh; He's dreaming of the candles That light the Christmas way. He's dreaming of the sleighbells That ring adown the road, And smiling while he's dreaming Of Santa and his load. Dream on, little brother; And wake on Christmas morn To find the horse and helmet, The toys and noisy horn. Smile on amidst your dreaming, And may God grant to you A happy Christmas morning, With all your dreams come true. GROWING UP A big boy now! How time does fly. It seems but yes- terday, As clad in knickerbockers, with his little blocks at play, He spent the daylight hours just an elfish little mite And when the chickens went to roost kissed me a fond goodnight. It seems but yesterday he climbed with joy upon my knee To beg for fairy stories that would fill his soul with glee ; But yesterday I stroked his head adorned with clinging curls But bless me, he's a big boy now and going with the girls ! It seems 'twas but a month ago, or but a year at best, He had to seek his dear mamma to be slicked up and dressed. 18 KIDDIES SIX But now he wears my choicest ties and goodness how it hurts He casts his longing eyes upon my collars, cuffs and shirts. Not long ago he scorned to wash his hands above the wrists, But now on having scented soap and like things he insists. He 's growing up ! I know the signs, for many years ago I had the same experience, and guess I ought to know. Not long ago his shoes were brown and skuffed about the toe, But now their shine is something great and ebon in their glow. Although but yesterday a patch concerned him not at all, Today 'twould give his heart a wrench and give his pride a fall. And not so very long ago his hair ne'er felt the brush, But now a hair left out of place would make the youngster blush. Tis wonderful the rapid change that in a boy's displayed When he has got his eyes upon some blue-eyed little maid. The other day I read a note I own 'twas on the sly He'd written to a little maid, and with a laugh then I Began to joke him and declare that he was smitten hard; But, bless you, he would not let on that my sarcasm jarred. Not he! He turned the joke on me, for in a day or two Another note the ''darling" kind came underneath my view. And when I said that it was "soft" the "worst I ever saw, ' ' He yelled with glee and showed 'twas one I'd written to his ma. KIDDIES SIX 19 THE BIGGEST BOY The "Biggest Boy" is not at home He "flew the nest" last night. I knew the day was bound to come, And yet tears dim my sight. The "Biggest Boy" has said goodbye, And gone to play his part On life's grim battlefield, and I Am lone and sad of heart. The "Biggest Boy" said, "Goodbye, Dad!" And "Dad" said, "Goodbye, son!" And then the boy with head erect, Went forth his work begun. And over in the corner there "Dad's" eyes will fall upon The "Biggest Boy's" now vacant chair, And miss the boy that's gone. The "Biggest Boy" gulped back a sob When on his lips was pressed The little mother's goodbye kiss, When mother's hands caressed. And then he smiled and went his way To fight and win, or die ; While "Dad" and mother could but say, "God bless you, son; goodbye!" The "Biggest Boy" is in the ranks Of that great fighting band That seeks by arts of toil and peace To upbuild this fair land. And "Dad" and mother fondly hope As only parents can, The "Biggest Boy" will do his part, And do it like a man. 20 KIDDIES SIX LITTLE MAN The " Biggest Boy" has gone away, But ''Little Man" is here. I miss the "Big Boy's" heavy tread, But rising sweet and clear, I hear the "Little Man's" request When "Daddy's" face he sees: "I'm papa's ownest Little Man Give me a penny please!" The "Biggest Boy" is not at home, And though his absence hurts At least there's comfort I can find Clean collars, socks and shirts. And when I look about and see The "Little Man" at play, That lonesome feeling in my heart Just somehow fades away. The "Biggest Boy" has "hit the trail,' But "Little Man" still stands Beside his "Daddy's" easy chair And stretches out his hands; He smiles and says with coaxing voice While climbing on my knees: "I'm papa's little man today; Give me some candy, please!" One boy has gone to fight his fight; One boy remains with me The "Biggest Boy" with bearded lip, The "Little Man" aged three. And may the one who's far away 'Midst life's hard toil and care Remain as fond of "Dad" as he Who stands beside my chair. KIDDIES SIX 21 TWO 0' MINE Little Miss Margaret Bumpety-bump, Whose tears are soon chased by her laughter ; And Young Master Dickeywick Thumpety-thump, Who always comes tumbling down after. Two little tykes who are ever at play Till the clear stars begin shining, Then, snuggled in bed at the close of the day, Baby arms lovingly twining. Hither and yon through the day 's speeding hours, Heedless of wind or of weather ; Building in sandpile or plucking the flowers, Ever and always together. Shadows of eventide gathering 'round Find the two ready to greet me; Happy my heart when I hear the sweet sound Little feet running to meet me. Little Miss Margaret Bumpety-bump Perches upon her Dad's shoulder. Young Master Dickeywick Thumpety-thump Being a boy and much bolder Clings to Dad's back as they enter the door Ready for mamma's sweet greeting. Then for a romp on the sitting room floor For minutes forever too fleeting. Bedtime at last, and each small nodding head Tells that the sandman is trusty; Then off to the folds of the dainty white bed Are carried the youngsters so lusty. Sleep, babies ; sleep ! And through the long night May angels of God without number Guard thee and keep thee till dawn's rosy light. In joys of a dreamless child-slumber. KIDDIES SIX GOOD NIGHT SLEEP TIGHT The old clock strikes the hour of eight, And worn with childish play My little ones kneel gently down At mamma's knee to pray. Then off to bed each sleepyhead To dream till morning light; But ere the fairies' wings are spread, They whisper low: "Good night- Sleep tight!" All day the house rings with their play, And nought they knew of care. The childish griefs that come their way Are trifles light as air. A sob, a kiss, and all is well, And grief has taken flight; The fairies weave their magic spell And then we hear: "Good night- Sleep tight!" ' ' Good night sleep tight ! ' ' God guard your rest. Then wake to greet the day. "Good night sleep tight!" By angels blest As night hours drift away. "When at the close of day they kneel In little robes of white, The sweetest thrills of love I feel To hear them say: "Good night- Sleep tight!" KIDDIES SIX 23 AT EVENTIDE Two little shoes, run-down and worn, Tossed in the corner over there; Two little stockings, soiled and torn, Lying beneath the rocking chair. One little sweater, one little cap, Little knee pants, a shirt once white All in a heap, and in my lap One little lad, his eyes shut tight. Two little arms that 'round me twine; Two sturdy legs worn out with play; One little heart that beats 'gainst mine, Fullof joy at the close of day. One little nightie donned at last, Ready the lad for slumber deep; One more day with its joy time past One little moment then asleep. Sleep, little boy, till the morning breaks; Dreamless sleep till the stars shall fade, And the rising sunev'ry songbird wakes And music rings in the leafy glade. Sleep, little boy, and watch and ward O'er thy cot may the angels keep. Safe in the arms of the children's Lord Sleep, little laddie sleep, sleep, sleep! WANTED A NAME Wanted A name for the baby; That sweet little mite of a miss, With pink hands and feet, and puckering lips sweet Held up for a fond parent's kiss. Bosie, or Josie, or Mary; 24 KIDDIES SIX Or Margaret, Lilly, or May; Priscilla or Prue does any suit you? We've just got to name her today. Wanted A name for the baby That's nestling there fast asleep; A precious wee mite on her pillow of white God gave us to guard and to keep. Annie, or Carrie, or Hazel; Or Annabel, Oral or Jo; Annetta or Sue does any suit you? We've just got to name her, you know. Wanted A name for the baby, That little pink image of love That came with the year with a message of cheer, Straight down from the mansions above. Maggie, or Katie or Flora; Or Amethyst, Kittie or Bess; All good, I suppose but dear goodness knows We'll just call her "Sister," I guess. LONELY 0, but it's dull and lonesome, and the house is strangely still, When the day is done and the setting sun hangs low o'er the western hill ; Silent and dull and lonely, for now at the close of day, No shouts of glee are awaiting me the kiddies have gone away. Left me, their dear hands waving, and faces alight with joy Rena so tall, Margaret small, Dor 'thy and wee Dickey Boy. KIDDIES SIX 25 And so, when the twilight gathers, and daylight fades to gloom, Silent and sad and lonely I wander from room to room. There in the corner lying a tattered and well-worii shoe, And I think I see in my fancy free a pink toe peeping through. A small sunbonnet hanging just there on the bedroom wall, And out of the gloom of the quiet room ghost voices seem to call Voices of happy children who left me but yesterday For the woods and streams and the sunlight gleams of the quiet country way. And the ghostly echoes answer the call of my lonely heart, And I seem to see hands beckon me over the miles that part. Out in the open country, out where the breezes play, The kiddies run in the wind and sun, happy and free and gay, Picking the flowers that blossom, and weaving their daisy chains, Joining in song as they play along in the shade of the country lanes. And the echoes of joy come to me as sitting alone out here, I dream day dreams of the woods and streams that com- fort my kiddies dear. Silent and dull and lonely, and the home sounds strangely stilled But my children play in the country way and my heart with joy is filled. 26 KIDDIES SIX THREE 0' MINE Eyes-io '-Brown and Sunny Hair, And Dickey- Winktum- Wee, Two beside my easy chair And one upon my knee. Thus the evenings come and go Till Mr. Sandman's call Sets three wee heads to nodding low And tired eyelids fall. "This is the way to Sleepytown Jump into bed and cuddle down!" Eyes-o '-Brown wants "an'mal tales," Of bears and woolly things; While Sunny Hair most loudly wails For whirr of fairy wings. But Dickey- Winktum-Wee just winks His laughing eyes at me I wonder what the young man thinks Perched there upon my knee? "So sing hey ho for Sleepytown Jump into bed and cuddle down!" "Once there was a big black bear" Two pairs of eyes grow bright; Two forms press closer to my chair As if to banish fright. "And once there was a brave young boy' Then dimpled faces shine, While I with fairy lore add joy To these sweet tots of mine. But Dickey- Winkum- Wee just crows Till off to Sleepytown he goes. KIDDIES SIX 27 ''Now I lay me down to sleep" The good night prayers are said. The fleecy clouds of slumber creep Above each little head. Eyes-o '-Brown and Sunny Hair, And Dickey- Winktum-Wee God guard and keep from ev'ry care My little ones for me. Safe in the shades of Sleepytown Tucked in bed and the light turned down. MY PA My pa c'n make th' finest kite 'At any feller flied; Th ' cross-sticks balanced up jus ' right An' tail all fixed and tied. 'At is, my pa he says he can, But it jus' seems somehow 'At ev'ry time I ast him to He says, "I'm busy now." My pa can take a wilier stick An' trim it nice an' clean, Then make a whistle jus' as slick As any feller's seen. 'At is, my pa he says he can He can, too ; bet a dime But when I ast t' make me one He says, "I haven't time." My pa c'n catch th' mostest fish Of any man I know. He's caught an' awful lot, I guess; At least he's told me so. 28 KIDDIES SIX But when I ast him f'r to' go With me he'll allus say, His head a-shakin' solemn-like, "I ain't got time t'day." My pa c'n run a hun'erd yards As fast as any man ; An' beat 'em all hop-step-an'-jump That is, he says he c'n. But when he runs t' catch a car I'm tickled most to death, F'r he don't get more'n half a block Till he's clean out o' breath. I bet my pa c'n do more things An' do 'em better than Most any feller in this town At least he says he c'n. An' then he picks th' paper up, An' by th' time it's read He ain't got time f'r anything, 'Cause he must go t' bed. THE NAME They figured first on Raymond, Then Clarence, George or John; They thought somewhat of Eugene, But none could fix upon. Some thought was given Edward, And quite a bit to James; In fact they were quite worried Among so many names. KIDDIES SIX 29 One good friend wanted Arthur, Another wanted Paul; One uncle mentioned Asa, Another said, "No, Saul." Grandpa suggested William And grandma Benjamin; Then went the list together And then began again. They dwelt awhile on Peter, On Matthew, Luke and Mark; They argued from the morning Until the day grew dark. They argued long and loudly Until one fateful day They quickly got together And named her Charlotte May. THE LOOKOUT MAN Now listen, little children, and I'll tell a story true And better you remember, for it means a lot to you For if you heed the lesson, then when Christmas time is here You'll get a lot of presents, and a lot of Christmas cheer. The Lookout Man is walking when the stars begin to peep, To see if little children are in bed and fast asleep : And all who act up naughty, and don't mind their ma's and pa 's ; The Lookout Man is watching, and he'll tell old Santa Claus. I knew a little fellow once who got real bad, and said He didn't care for Santa Claus, and wouldn't go to bed; And said he didn't have to mind 0, he was awful bad 30 KIDDIES SIX And didn't seem to care a mite in making folks feel sad. But when it came to Christmas, he didn 't get a thing, For Santa Glaus had heard of him, and not a thing he'd bring. He knew that bad boy's record better mind your ma's and pa's; The Lookout Man is watching, and he'll tell old Santa Glaus. J also knew a little girl who was just awful bad. She wouldn't learn her lessons, and she always got so mad If anybody told her to be still and hush her noise Well, she was always wishing for a lot of Christmas toys, But when 'twas Christmas morning, to her wonder and surprise An empty stocking hanging in the corner met her eyes. You see, she acted naughty better mind your ma's and pa's; The Lookout Man is watching, and he'll tell old Santa Glaus. The Lookout Man is peeping through the windows every night, And counting up the children who are always acting right And going off to bed at once when told it's time to go, And never pouting, not a bit, or taking clothes off slow. He puts them in the good book, but the bad ones in the bad And when he writes a bad one, 0, he looks just awful sad. For he knows they will get nothing better mind your ma's and pa's; The Lookout Man is watching, and he'll tell old Santa Glaus. KIDDIES SIX 31 "DOOD MORNIN' " Each morning when the sun comes up To tint the east with red; When birds sing sweet the day to greet In branches overhead, "Pis then I fully realize I'm rich beyond compare, For sweet and clear a voice I hear: "Dood mornin', pop! You dere?" The cares of day may vest the night With visions dark and strange ; And through my sleep dark phantoms creep And dismal doubtings range. But when the morning sunlight breaks Then farewell doubt and care, For sweet and clear a voice I hear: "Dood mornin,' pop! You dere?" The day dawns bright and hope revives. The tasks it brings to me Seem to be small if but the call Comes fraught with childish glee. And light of heart I face the day, For on its morning air Comes music sweet my ears to greet : "Dood mornin', pop! You dere?" When life is done, its task laid down ; When comes eternity; I humbly pray the judgment day Will bring one boon to me. One boon I ask of Thee, dear Lord That in that city fair My ears shall hear that greeting clear : "Dood mornin', pop! You dere?" 32 KIDDIES SIX JUST MONEY ENOUGH I never cared to be as rich as some men that I know, For riches ain 't the greatest thing in this old world below ; And men don't always feel the best because they've lots of wealth, For gold, though legal tender, won't buy its possessor health. But I'd just like to have enough of money so when I Am called on winter mornings I 'd be able to reply : "Uh-huh! All right, I'm getting up in just a minute," Then Roll over kind o' lazy-like and go to sleep again. I never cared to own a yacht or private car so fine, And automobiles are too strong I don't want none in mine. I won't want such a pile of gold that folks will envy me, Nor mix in deals that won't let my old conscience feel quite free. But I'd just like to have enough laid carefully away So when I'm called at 6 a.m. I'd feel quite free to say: "Uh-huh! Allright, I'm getting up in just a minute," Then Roll over kind o' lazy-like and go to sleep again. To corner markets, water stocks and float a trust or two May be the things that millionaires think lots of fun to do ; But I don 't want to have no fun that causes others woe Or by a robbing set of laws make my own fortune grow. I don't want millions that's too much my wants are not so great; I only want enough so I at 6 a. m. could state : "Uh-huh! All right, I'm getting up in just a minute," Then Roll over kind o' lazy-like and go to sleep again. KIDDIES SIX 33 DAY DREAMS I long for the days of the barlow knife, And the sore toe tied with yarn; For the "mumblepeg" and the ''Boston taw" In the shade of the moss-grown barn. I even yearn for a stone bruised heel, Or a back burned red by the sun; For the old-time zest for my couch of rest I had when the day was done. I long for the days of the "sight unseen," And the peg tops spun with twine ; For my old-time place down at second base , As one of the village "Nine." I even yearn for the finger bunged Or the thumb with a ragged split ; Or the old-time lump on my bulging brow That showed where the baseball hit. I long for the days of the swimmin' hole, And the "swish" of the old fishline; For the "croekries," "aggies," "glassies" and The "nealies" that once were mine. I even yearn for the blistered hands That came from the old grub hoe; For the appetite that came with night In the days of the long ago. I long for the days that are long, long dead, When my heart was free from care; For the sunny hours when my boyish soul Was as light as the summer air. But, thank the Lord, I am living yet, And I thank Him, too, that I Can sit at ease when the day is done And dream of the days gone by. 34 KIDDIES SIX SANTA GLAUS' BOOKS When the evening shadows gather and the time is eight o'clock You can hear, if you will listen, Mr. Sand Man's gentle knock. Then you'd better hustle lively time your evening pray- ers were said And every boy and girl well tucked in downy little bed. For when Mr. Sand Man's knocking sounds the signal, you may know. Santa Glaus is closely watching from his palace built of snow, And the children that are naughty and don't mind their ma's and pa's Get their names down in the "Bad Book" that is kept by Santa Glaus. Boys who never split the kindling, and the girls who always cry When they're asked to wash the dishes Santa Glaus has got his eye On such boys and girls, and watches with a sad and sorry look As he writes each name in sorrow on the pages of the book. And the girl who never hurries, but lets mamma do the work, And the boy who's always scheming all his little chores to shirk They may think no one pays notice when they don't help ma's and pa's, But their names are in the "Bad Book" that is kept by Santa Glaus. KIDDIES SIX 35 But old Santa keeps a "Good Book" it's the bestest book of all, "Where he writes the names of children who are prompt at duty's call. And the boys who splits the kindling and the girls who never shirk But rise early in the morning and help mamma with the work; And the boys who never grumble when there's work for them to do, And the girls who help their mammas till the housework is all through O, they needn't ever worry when it's Christmas time, because All their names are in the "Good Book" that is kept by Santa Glaus. Is your name down in the "Bad Book?" Well, there's still a chance for you, And if you will listen to me, I will tell you what to do. Don't act naughty, don't talk rudely, don't be noisy, be polite, Get up early in the morning, early into bed at night. Cheerfully perform each duty, do your work before you Play, Never put off till tomorrow work than should be done today. If you do these things, dear children, it will please your ma's and pa's, And your names go in the "Good Book" that is kept by Santa Glaus. 36 KIDDIES SIX RELICS A little box with tear-stained lid Beneath which many things lie hid. And often when the twilight's gloom Paints memory faces o'er the room, I leave the world of toil and care, And seated in the old arm chair, I ope the lid and fondly gaze Upon the things of other days. A little box with tear-stained lid Beneath which sacred things are hid. A little shoe out at the toe 0, baby boy, I love you so . A tiny cap with upturned brim That eloquently speaks of him These are the treasures laid away To gaze upon at close of day. A little box with tear-stained lid Beneath which treasured things are hid. A broken top, a toy, a whip, A crippled ox from Noah's ship; A tiny stocking all the wealth That men secure by work, or stealth, Would not suffice to buy from me One thing I ope the lid to see. A little box with tear-stained lid Beneath which love worn things are hid. As long as Death's dark angel roams To lay a blight on happy homes, Full many a box will hide away The relics of a happier day; And when the evening's echoes call Upon their lids hot tears will fall. KIDDIES SIX 37 MY CHILDREN AND I When I was but a little boy, and just about so high, I read of Lincoln's early toil, and of how hard he'd try To get some learning in his head and I remember, too, My Dad would say, "Remember, son, and always keep in view Abe Lincoln's way of doing things and you will win success." But something has gone wrong or else I sadly miss my guess. Fve got some children of my own, but whene'er I begin To tell 'em of my boyhood days they look at me and grin. I tell 'em when I was a boy how many miles I'd go To school, and tramp with ill-clad feet through slush and frozen snow; How thin my clothing, poor my books, how dreary was the room In which I sat upon a bench amidst the dust and gloom. I tell 'em how I had to toil and never, never had A nickel or a dime to spend from my hard-working Dad. But when my children hear me talk they discount more than half, And then they lean back in their chairs and laugh, and laugh and laugh. I tell 'em when I was a boy we had no picture shows; No matinees, no street car rides, no pretty boughten clothes ; How hard we children had to work from early dawn till night, And then to bed in some cold room with naught but candle light. 38 KIDDIES SIX Then in most solemn tones I'll try to make my children see How awful proud of their old Dad they really ought to be; How much of all their youthful joys they really ought to think But just when I'm most solemn-like they'll look at me and wink. I tell 'em when I was a boy bicycles were unknown; That roller skates and boughten dolls were things no child could own. And then I try my very best to make 'em realize How much the blessings that they have they really ought to prize. I draw a contrast 'twixt the time when I was just a lad And times like these, to make 'em seem how hard a time I had. But just about the time I think I've got 'em going well They'll look at ma, who merely smiles and then they fairly yell. God bless their souls! I'm really glad they're mighty hard to stuff With all those tough old tales of yore, and similar sort of guff. For all I try to make 'em think my boyhood days were I guess I had as much of fun as any fellow had. I know I had a better time than my own father knew When he was but a little boy and I'll confess to you I wouldn't have my children miss a single childish joy Because it never came my way when I was just a boy. KIDDIES SIX 39 CONTENT Sittin' 'round the fire in the lamplight's mellow glow, A listenin' to th' children as they patter to an' fro; Just rockin' back an' forruds, puffin' smoke rings in th' air, With a conscience clear an' easy, nothin' on my mind but hair, I am feelin' good a plenty, an' my heart is full o' joy At th' very thought o' livin' midst true love without alloy. So I'll let the politicians rave an' rant their fullest bent "While I sit at home o' evenin's full o' joy and sweet content. Sittin' 'round th' fire with my children by my knee, An' a happy little mother rockin' gently close t' me; I don't envy Rockefeller all th' gold at his command, 'Cause I got more things t' live for than he'll ever have on hand. An' I woudn't exchange places with th' Laird o' ol Skiboo, Takin' all his load o' trouble, givin' up my loved ones true. But t' just sit here a rockin' softly, gently, to an' fro Is about th' sweetest pleasure that I ever hope t' know. Happy laughter ringin' 'round my humble little place; Sweetest smiles a chasm' o'er each happy little face; Not a single care t ' worry till I face th ' world again When I got t' marketplaces t' confront my fellowmen. Peace an ' comfort 'round me, not a care t ' cause a frown, I'm no millionaire, but only just th' gladdest man in town. Sittin' 'round th' fire listenin' while th' children sing, I'm the richest man in Lincoln, an' as happy as a king. 40 KIDDIES SIX NOD-A-VILLE To the quaint old town of Nod-a-Ville, Out there in the Sundown West; Just over the crest of Slumber Hill, Where the evening shades lie cool and still, And the birds have gone to rest To a quaint old house on Quiet Street, Deep shaded by Sleepy Tree, While the sighing breeze sings low and sweet They haste away with their willing feet, My babies three with me. Dick-e-Dum marches with air sedate, And Margy-ree half-past two Waddles along with a queer-toed gait, Worried for fear that she may be late, And the dark blot out the view. But Charlotte May brand-new you know She couldn't climb Slumber Hill So she rides a knee the journey through, And the only comment she makes 's "goo-goo," On the way to Nod-a-Ville. In the quaint old house they softly creep As the sun sinks in the west; And kneeling there in the silence deep They whisper their "lay me down to sleep," And in God's strong arms rest. O, Nod-a-Ville! Through all the night May angels watch o'er thee; And when the morning has dawned clear, bright Send back with their faces rosy alight My babies three to me. KIDDIES SIX 41 THE FLAT OWNER'S FATE A rich man built a row of flats. All modern and complete; A velvet lawn stretched out in front Along the noisy street. And then he tacked a sign up high Above the passing crowd: "These handsome, modern flats for rent No children are allowed." He garnered rents in golden store And riches high he piled, The while the echoes never rang With laughter of a child. No childish feet went pitty-pat Adown the marble halls ; The gloomy corridors ne'er rang With children's happy calls. The rich man died, as all men must, And neared .St. Peter's gate, And o'er the golden arch he saw The words that sealed his fate. The words he saw were writ in flame, And seared his hard heart well: "This place is full of little ones You'll have to go below." 42 KIDDIES SIX THE ROAD TO SMILEVILLE There are golden roses that bloom and blow In the balmy winds and the golden glow To greet and cheer as I daily go Along the road to Smile ville. The winds sing sweet in the leafy trees, And a rich perfume lades the summer breeze, While a nectar sweet calls the humming bees Along the road to Smileville. There are shady nooks in a flowered lane, And a vista clear of the waving grain; There's a balm for every ache and pain Along the road to Smileville. There are songs to cheer as I wend my way ; There are echoes sweet as the children play ; And the sky is blue and my heart is gay Along the road to Smileville. In a cosy cottage on Quiet street My darlings wait with their kisses sweet, And they run to meet me with flying feet Along the road to Smileville. 'Tis a charming road that is ever new; And the cheery ending is e'er in view; And a lasting welcome is waiting you Where ends the road to Smileville. KIDDIES SIX 43 THE MEANEST MAN I've heard of men so awful mean They'd skin a flea for hide and tallow; Or lick a soup bowl slick and clean, No matter if 'twere deep or shallow. I've heard of men so mean of heart They'd squeeze down hard on ev'ry dollar Until the Goddess fell apart And was compelled to loudly "holler." I've heard of men so mean and "near" The thought of wear gave them keen twinges, And so they climbed the fence for fear To swing the gate would wear out hinges. And once I knew a man so mean His heart was wont to quickly nutter If children at his board were seen To use molasses on bread and butter. But of all men described as mean There's one who's worse than all the others; His heart so small, his soul so lean, That all good thoughts he quickly smothers. He is so mean, and always was, That as excuse for never giving He says there is no Santa Glaus And he's the meanest fellow living. 44 KIDDIES SIX HOME AGAIN There 's a face at the window and smiling at me ; A little hand waving in babyish glee. And shadows that lurked in the eventide gloam Are banished the baby is once more at home ! The silence that reigned through the old sitting-room ; The hall that was shrouded in echoless gloom; And long, lonesome hours with slow, steady pace All changed by a glimpse of a sweet baby face! The welcomeless coming when day's toil was done; The long, cheerless eve when dark shadows were spun; The long, lonesome night with no joys to beguile All changed by the gleam of a sweet baby smile ! The burden of toil through the hours of the day Grow lighter at thoughts of an evening at play With baby at home; and I'm waiting to see The bright smile of welcome that's waiting for me. Now pressed to the pane is the sweet smiling face; A hand waves a welcome with infantile grace. And brighter and brighter the sun shines above At home is a baby, and welcome, and love. KIDDIES SIX 45 GOIN' OUT TO GRAN 'MA'S I'm goin' out to gran 'ma's an' have jus' lots o' fun Gran 'ma never scolds me when I shout an' romp an' run. She says 'at little chil'ren 'at is kep' in school all day For more'n eight months of th' year has gotter right to play. An' when I go to see her she jus' says 'at I kin do Mos' anything I w r ant 'er till vacation time is through. I'm sorry for th' fellers 'at can't never go to see Their gran 'mas in vacation mine is mighty good to me. Pa says he'll have some quiet jus' as soon as I leave town,- But gran 'ma says 'at she jus' loves to have me playin' roun'. An' mamma says she bet a cent 'at gran 'ma she'll get mad At me for trackin' mud in doors an' actin' awful bad. But when I'm gone I bet my pa '11 wisht 'at I was back 'Cause when he smokes it's me that brings his ol' ter- backer sack. An' mamma well, she'll miss me, too; 'cause when th' baby's bad She says I'm jus' th' bestest nurse 'at she mos' ever had. Las' time I was to gran 'ma's, my papa wrote to me An' says he wants to see me, 'cause he's lonesome as can be. But gran 'ma she jus' laffed an' said I better have my fun, 'Cause pa would see enough ov me when that ol' school begun. Say, gran 'mas makes th' bestest jam 'at any boy kin eaf r An' she ain't allus kickin' 'cause a kid don't wipe his feet. She says it's human natur' f'r us boys to be jus' boys That's why I like to go there, 'cause she lets us make a noise. 46 KIDDIES SIX Gee whizz! I'm so excited that I jus' can't hardly wait For ma to get me ready say, she 's slower than a freight ! My gran 'ma wrote a letter 'at th' kittens and th' calf Wus actin' up so funny that they'd make a preacher laff ; That chickens wus a scratchin' till she's skeered a 'most to deff They'd keep up with their scratchin' till she had no garden lef. She says f'r me to hurry, an' to make them chickens fly- There comes th' bus' to git me I gotter say goodby. A LULLABY There's a queer little house in Lullaby Town, Hush-o, my baby, by-o ! Just over the hill on the lane winding down, And a queer little room with lights burning low, And shadows that flicker and dance to and fro- O, haste, little comrade ; together we '11 go Hush-o, my baby, by-o! Hush-o, my baby; hush-o, my sweet, Come to the cottage on Slumberland street, Clasped to my heart together we'll go, Hush-o, my baby, by-o ! On Slumberland street in Fairy Land Square, Hush-o, my baby, by-o ! Haste, little comrade, we soon will be there ; Hush-o, my baby, by-o! Soft, downy couch that the angels have spread; Slumber, my darling, and God guard thy bed ; Sleep till the sun paints the morn a rich red Hush-o, my baby, by-o! KIDDIES SIX 47 WRITING IT AT HOME A bunch of four four happy kids Chock full of fun and pleasure. All four a mighty big expense, But ev'ry one a treasure. And when I want it quiet like So I can do my writing, The noise that bunch begins to make Sounds like two armies fighting. One clambers over my machine; One asks for help with "numbers." One for my pencil makes demand; One my tired knee encumbers. "A dozen eggs cost forty cents, What will three dozen cost?" And by the time I work it out My thread of thought is lost. One sticky hand is reaching out To grasp my thinning locks. One piercing voice makes loud demand For help with building blocks. ' ' My peneil 's broke ; please sharpen it So I can write the rest"- And then the thoughts I've garnered in Are all knocked galley west. But when, at last, the sandman comes And all four little heads Are resting on the pillows white Of two soft, downy beds; And all is quiet 'round the house Where once the noise did ring, I start to write and then can't think Of a dodgasted thing! 48 KIDDIES SIX BED TIME Weary with play but with eyes aglow With love that the babies only know; Tired of roaming through room and hall; Tired of answering each other's call So, when shadows of evening creep, And friends, the birdies, have gone to sleep, Two tired kiddies come close to me, Perch each one .on a favorite knee, Nestle two heads on my willing breast, Then sigh contented and sink to rest. "From Widdleton to Waddleton is fourteen miles; From Widdleton to Waddleton, From Waddleton to Widdleton, From Widdleton to Waddleton is fourteen miles." Shining brown eyes looking into mine, Four loving arms that around me twine ; Two little hearts that are full of joy Goldenhaired girl and a sturdy boy I sing for them in humble rhymes Of the giant days and the fairy times. Thus does the eventide glide by Till the sandman closes each sleepy eye, And sinking to sleep in my sheltering arm I leave them to Him who will shield from harm. "Rich man livin' in de city o' Jerusalem, O, bless de Lam', O, bless de Lam', Rich man livin' in de city o' Jerusalem, 0, bless de Lam'!" Nestled in bed 'neath the covers warm, Shielded from storms that would do them harm ; KIDDIES SIX 49 Two little kiddies are laid to rest When the sundown purple fades from the west. And bending over their snow-white bed I breathe a blessing upon each head. And answering shadow a message brings That comes with rustle of angel's wings A message of love for my darlings there Asleep and under the good Lord's care. "Sleep, little babies, sleep, sleep, sleep, God in His goodness keep, keep, keep. Dream happy dreams While the starlight gleams, Sleep, little babies, sleep, sleep, sleep." BABY'S SHOES Lay them away, stained by a mother's tears; Precious keepsakes through the coming years. The baby's shoes, the tips now slightly worn The spring heels frayed by running o'er the floor Lay them away, with heartstrings wrenched and torn, For baby's feet will wear them never more. But through the gloom of all the coming years The baby's shoes will ope the fount of tears. Lay them away, and sacred memory Will cluster 'round them till his face we see Until in robes of angels' purest white, With harp swept by his little fingers blest, His smile shall banish all the gloom of night And call us to his Father's endless rest. Those little shoes! Through all the coming years They'll speak of him, and fill our eyes with tears. 60 KIDDIES SIX Lay them away! No more will baby feet Bun to the gate with patt'ring music sweet. Upon the shores of brighter, endless day He stands. He smiles and waves his hand, And after we have quit life's weary way We'll greet our baby in that better land. And so we'll keep these shoes through all the years That they may banish all our doubts and fears. OFF TO SCHOOL We haven't any "little girl" With eyes alight with glee, And hair in many a dancing curl, Her happy heart care free, She started off to school today And mama's heart is sore; "Our baby's gone," I heard her say; "Our little girl no more." We lost our little girl today. With eager, hurrying feet She sped with laughter light and gay Along the busy street. And watching her a mother's eyes Grew moist with unshed tears As backward now her mem'ry flies Through quickly vanished years. We lost our little girl today. With lightly tripping feet She hurries on her schoolward way Far down the city street. But though the years speed swiftly by Into eternity, She'll be, however fast they fly, "My little girl" to me. KIDDIES SIX 51 HELLO, POP! His photograph! Our joy and pride The picture of our boy who died! I seem to hear, 'midst tears that drop Upon its face, his loving call Come ringing down the darkened hall To give me greeting: "Hello, Pop!" It seems but yesterday he died But yesterday we stood beside His bed and watched his eyelids drop To sleep and wake in endless day But yesterday I heard him say With dying accents: "Goodbye, Pop!" Last night I dreamed he stood again With face pressed to the windowpane And watched to see my motor stop ; That when he heard me at the door He quickly toddled 'cross the floor And met me, shouting: "Hello, Pop!" Sometimes, when daylight fades to gloom And ghostly shadows fill the room I feel again the swelling joy; For, from the shadows around about, I hear once more his joyful shout In boyish tones: "I'm papa's boy!" When, after death 's cold, chilly hands Have loosed the last of earthly bands And caused life's weary load to drop. I'll feel it is supremest joy To meet, at heaven's gate, my boy, And hear his welcome : ' ' Hello, Pop ! ' ' 52 KIDDIES SIX A SHOCK The Biggest Boy, who flew the nest A few short years ago, And settled in the sundown west, Now writes me: "Dad, you know I've met Her! She's the girl for me- We want your blessing, Dad. June 10 the wedding is to be, And gee, dear Dad, I'm glad." The Biggest Boy to wed? Dear me, It seems but yesterday I saw him run in childish glee To boyhood's laughing play; But yesterday in roundabouts, Barefooted, tousled-head, Around the house with noisy shouts Now in a month he '11 wed ! Last night I saw the shadows creep And heard the youngster say His "Now I lay me down to sleep," When tired with childish play. Last night it seems 'twas years ago. Ah, me, how time has sped ! The lad now writes to let me know That in a month he'll wed! All right, my boy. One wish for you : May she you've chosen be As staunch and helpful, good and true, As my wife's been to me. And if my wish comes true, my boy, You're blest beyond compare. Your days will all be days of joy, Your skies be always fair. KIDDIES SIX 53 The Biggest Boy to wed! All right; But that recalls to mind, As here I sit this summer night, The long years now behind. I wish you happiness, my boy; I'm glad because you're glad. And wishing you life's greatest joy, I'm lovingly, YOUR DAD. AT EVENTIDE Eeney, meeney, miney, mo Into bed the babies go! A little dress in the corner there, A pair of trousers behind the door ; The frayed-out stockings upon the chair, And well-worn sandals upon the floor. All the day long have the little feet Pattered around in their childish play; Voices that rang with a laughter sweet, Stilled and hushed at the close of day. Then the sandman comes creep, creep, creep And the tired babies are soon asleep. Onery, orry, ickery, Ann Into bed for the old sandman! A sticky print on the windowpane, A muddy track on the hallroom floor; Four little feet walking By-lo Lane, And stillness is ushered in once more. All the day long and the cottage rings With elfin sounds of their childish glee ; Then the night time comes and with it brings Quiet and lonesomeness for me. For the sandman's come creep, creep, creep And I'm alone in the silence deep. 54 KIDDIES SIX Fillison, follison, Nicholas, John Bless the babes my eyes rest on! A happy pair in the little bed, Dreaming the dreams that the angels send; Snuggled so warm 'neath the covers spread, Tired but happy at the long day's end. All forgot are the bumps and the falls, And all forgot are the pains and aches; Memory fails when the sandman calls Never returns when the sun-god wakes. And I rest content till the morning glad Brings welcome shouts of "Dood mornin', dad!' LOUIS AND RUTH I've got a brand-new daughter now, And proud I am of her; Although it rather seems, somehow, As if she really were A sign that I am growing old, That many years have sped; That oft the bells dead years have tolled- The "Biggest Boy" has wed. It seems that only yesterday I wound his wounded toe With yarn in the old-fashioned way 'Twas really years ago! It seems but just a day or two Since off to school he ran; But "Biggest Boy" now looms to view As a new married man. Gee whiz! How Tempus fugits by I've got a daughter-in-law! KIDDIES SIX 55 It seems so short a time since I Was playing "Boston taw;" So brief a time since, free and glad, I'd gaily romp and run And now to think that I'm the Dad Of a big married son! Well, I admit my shadow turns And points the eastward way; That memory's incense sweetly burns To many a yesterday. But, praise the Lord, although the gray In my hair has a start, I can with truth stand up and say I'm keeping young of heart. So, daughter, you've a welcome here Like blooming flowers of May; To us you'll be both near and dear Forever and a day. But I'll admit it seems quite queer, When all is done and said, That I've a brand-new daughter here 'Cause "Biggest Boy" is wed. ABSENCE How big a little house can be When all have gone away And left no one at home but me ; How dreary, grim and gray The shadows are at eventide, When lone and tired I come And have no one to sit beside Me when at last I'm home. 56 KIDDIES SIX The hall seems leagues of distance wide, Each room a vast estate ; Dark forms in dusky corners hide And terrors lie in wait. Deep silence reigns, and over all The lonesome shadows creep; I list to hear a soft footfall From out the silence deep. No welcome laugh, no smiling face, No eager, running feet To meet me as I near the place; No kiss from lips so sweet. A barren isle in widespread sea; A rock in desert wide; No hands that beckon unto me Near home at eventide. And yet, ere morning sun awakes I feel a presence sweet; Dream faces dreary fancy breaks And bring a joy complete. I feel the touch of little hands, See smiles of childish glee ; And as from far-off Fairyland My children come to me. O'er low-flung hills and valleys wide, Far from the city's strife, Midst country scenes where joys abide Are children dear and wife. So what care I if dark and drear The cottage seems to be, If brown and strong my kiddies dear Soon hasten home to me! KIDDIES SIX 57 TO LITTLE BILL [Born, to Mr. and Mrs. Ray G. Stewart, of Cedar Rapids, la., on March 13, 1911, a son. A card announces that "Bill" arrived and weighed in at ten pounds.] Why, Hello, Bill! God bless your safe arriving. You're welcome as the flowers are in May. We've waited quite a spell, the while contriving To wait in patience for your natal day. And now you're here may every choicest treasure Old nature has in stock be yours until You've lived to round out man's allotted measure And Peter greets you with a "Hello, Bill!" Hello, again! God bless you and your mother. My, how we'd like to take you by the hand And tell you that there isn't such another As you in all this blooming country grand. And may you live to reach life's highest honor, A joy and comfort through both good and ill ; And for the little mother, heap upon her The sweetest crown of motherhood, dear Bill. Yes, Hello, Bill! Your welcome's more than double. You're just a little late, but now you're here We've quite forgot a lot of things that trouble And greet you with the warmest of good cheer. May all your days be days of June, and sunny; Your sorrows quite as light as ocean foam; And may you never lack for friends or money, Or for the perfect joys of home, sweet home. Yes, Hello, Bill ! W T e 're mighty glad you landed Just when and where you did, you lucky tyke. You've got a mother sweet, dad openhanded 58 KIDDIES SIX In fact, a pair of parents that you'll like. And may their fondest dreams have sweet fulfilling; May you their lives with richest comfort fill. May you buck up to life and "make a killing" Here's hoping that you get there. UNCLE BILL. Lincoln, Nebr., March 15, 1911. HIS FATE Little Willie Wait-a-Bit Intended well to mind, But, somehow, always managed it To be a bit behind. "In a minute," he would say When time came to cease his play. Little Willie Wait-a-Bit Grew to be a man; But he loved to sit and sit Scheming out some plan. "In a minute," he would say, "I will get to work straightway. Mr. William Wait-a-Bit Neared St. Peter's Gate, But, alas, he managed it So that he was late. "Wait a minute!" shouted he; But St. Peter turned the key. William Wait-a-Bit was sent To the nether clime, Where without his own intent He arrived on time. Now he mourns his torrid fate, For his master will not wait. > > KIDDIES SIX 59 YOUNG AMERICA We were up at early morning, and the echoes quickly woke, And the atmosphere was murky with the clouds of powder smoke. We whooped it up for Washington, and Israel Putnam, too, But we whooped it up the loudest for old Yankee- Doodle-do. Every blister was a token of our love of liberty, And we fired salutes in plenty to the banner of the free. 'Twas a grand old celebration, full of noise and smoke galore, And considered something bully by a lad aged 4. He shot off the biggest crackers, and for him the rockets flew, And for liberty he shouted, and for Yankee-Doodle, too. And he killed a million foemen, more or less I think 'twas more With a gun that shot from Q street to the furthest foe- man's shore. When he lit the cannon crackers with a glowing bit of punk Ev'ry enemy of Freedom thought it wise to quickly flunk. Yes, he waved the starry banner till the great day was no more, Did this patriot so sturdy who is aged just 4. We were up at early morning and the lad was in com- mand, And we whooped for dear Old Glory in a way to beat the band. Every blister on our fingers was a sign of victory, 60 KIDDIES SIX "While the stains of burning powder filled our souls with ecstacy. He was acting major gen'ral, I the private in the ranks, And I know he is deserving of the nation's grateful thanks. He's a royal, true-blue soldier, patriotic to the core, Is this sturdy little fellow who is aged just 4. LOOKING BACKWARD The crackers don't sound as loud as of yore, And rockets don't fly so high; Somehow the candles don't sizz-z-z and roar As they did in a past July. And candy and cake, and the jams and jell Don't taste as they tasted then Ah, me; 'tis the tale that the long years tell To the graybaired boys grown men. There's never a day that we celebrate That makes the blood run fast Like it did 'way back on a distant date, On a Fourth that has long since passed. The singers can't sing and the bands can't play As loud and as sweet as then; Nor the sky so blue or the crowds so gay Since we are the grayhaired men. Ah, wouldn't you give of silver and gold If you could up and away On the backward road till your eyes behold The Fourth of a yesterday. And wouldn't the crackers send forth a roar: And wouldn't the rockets fly? What wouldn't you give if a boy once more On an old-time Fourth of July? KIDDIES SIX 61 LET 'EM RIDE When you see a little fellow with a sled of red and yellow, And his cheeks with winter roses all aglow; Don't whip up and shriek with laughter when he vainly follows after, But pull up and let your horses saunter slow. Let him have his chance to "hook on" while you smile and gladly look on, Then "gid'ap!" and trot off with the extra load. You will never know what joy is till you know some happy boy is "Hooked behind" and gaily sliding down the road. I have known some selfish creatures who wore scowls upon their features And who always have green hate upon the mind, Who would take an endless measure of a most peculiar pleasure They would grin at ev'ry chance to "whip behind." When the lash with cruel hissing curls behind, and sel- dom missing, Gives the boy a cruel hurt and breaks his hold, Old Nick grins and says, "I've cinched him! That's a sign my imps have pinched him ; There's a driver I'll protect from future cold." Bless the man who smiles while looking at the happy boy who's hooking On behind and gaily riding on his sled. May that man find each day sunny, may he have good health and money, May life's choicest blessings rest upon his head. If by providence empowered I would have rich blessings showered 62 KIDDIES SIX Every day upon the man so good and kind That he always says, "All right, son; hook behind and hold on tight, son!" He's all right the man who never whips behind. VACATION TIME Grim silence reigns through all the rooms and halls No echoes ring, no eager, laughing cries. I miss the sound of loving, childish calls When daylight into sombre twilight dies. No little feet come dancing down the walk; No laughing eyes look brightly up to me. I yearn in vain for childish, prattling talk And I am lonely now as I can be. The ghosts walk out, and at the midnight hour I dimly see amidst the misty gloom Four childish faces, each one like a flower, That smile at me across the silent room. I smile at them, and from my easy bed I wave my blessing; and they fade away; Their loving smiles, like blessings o'er me spread, Remain until the rosy dawn of day. The cottage home is lonesome now, and still ; But far away, adown the country lane And by the banks of sunny, rippling rill, I know four happy tots new health will gain. I sit at eventide and wait the time to sleep, And know full well the midnight hour will see Four misty forms that from the gloom will creep And smile their loving blessings over me. KIDDIES SIX 63 JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS The Little Boy is sad and lone And not inclined to play. He talks in soft and tender tone To toys he's laid away. For he has faced the question old Whose answer none can tell And as he waits, clear, soft and cold He hears the tolling bell. He misses from the usual place The form he loved so true; He fails to see one smiling face, He hears no ' ' Howdy-do ! ' ' In vain he turns to Brer B'ar, And Brer Kabbit's dumb; Brer Fox says naught when he asks, "Why Don't Uncle Remus come?" The Little Boy is sad today And mourns his playmate dead. He does not care to laugh and play With toys around him spread. Across the hills the cortege sweeps, The band plays soft and low; And Little Boy in silence weeps He loved his playmate so. The animals that told queer tales With Uncle Remus' tongue Are dumb forever, Little Boy Your heart with grief is wrung. You ask in vain the whence and why, But we who've older grown Can but confess we've no reply, And you must grieve alone. 64 KIDDIES SIX But, Little Boy, in God's own time Your playmate you will see; In some fair land, in some fair clime, Where many mansions be. Then, Little Boy, you'll clasp his hands, And walk the sunlit way With Uncle Remus comrades two Forever and a day. NEVER AGAIN I wish the crackers would sound as loud As they did in the days gone by. I wish the candy would taste as sweet As it did in a past July. I wish the chums of the days of yore Would gather about in the grove once more, And take their part in the great day's roar, Under the July sky. I wish the skies were as clear and blue As they were in the days of old. I wish the sunlight would gleam again With the shimmer of burnished gold. I wish the boys of that yesterday From over the hills and far away Would come again with light hearts gay, Under the old flag's fold. I wish their laughter would ring again As it did in the years long fled. I wish that youth could hover once more O'er the curls of each care-free head. I know such wishes can never be, But we can gather again, care free, For one more day, just you and me Boys, though we're grown up men. KIDDIES SIX f . 65 PAY DAY I have had a lot of pleasure in this good old world of ours; And the path I'm daily treading blooms with never fading flowers. Happy laughter of my children greets my ears with music sweet "When they see me homeward coming down the city's busy street. But a day of days I cherish as the long week saunters by, Looking forward, gay and happy, with the lovelight in my eye, And when this great day is finished how my heart with rapture hums "When I face the cashier 's window and the Pay Check Comes. Here 's a pair of shoes for baby, and a dress for Dorothy ; Here's a coat for laughing Rena that will make her dance to see. Here's the fuel that will warm them when the blasts of winter shriek; Here's a bunch of joy and comfort that will last another week. And my heart is light and happy as I toil day after day, "While the smiles of happy children shed a bright light on my way. And my weary steps grow lighter, and my heart with rapture drums When I face the cashier's window and the Pay Check Comes. 66 KIDDIES SIX Just a tinted bit of paper, but it holds a wealth of joy Home and comfort without measure, happiness without alloy. Hour by hour I toil with pleasure for I know the mo- ments count. Beat by beat, each stroke is adding to my honest week's account. Every moment adds a pleasure to the loved ones in the nest, While the thought nerves me to labor with a never failing zest. Tis for wife and babes God bless 'em and my heart with rapture hums When I face the cashier's window and the Pay Check Comes. TWO WEEKS AFTER The drum is now busted, The wagon wheels bent, The trumpet is noiseless From many a dent. The woolly sheep bleats When you squeeze it no more, The fragments of toys Now litter the floor. But what of it all? Clear the littered up stuff The children enjoyed them And that is enough. KIDDIES SIX 67 THE OPEN SEASON April now, and I must take Rod and reel and hunt a lake; Tramp the shore light-hearted, glad; Cast out 'neath some lilypad. Fill my lungs with clean ozone, Lift my voice in lusty tone; Watch the white clouds sailing high 'Cross the blue of April's sky. April now, my desk is clean; Trees and grass are showing green; Tang of springtime in the air Goodbye, now, old office chair! Off I lay life's weary load And go tramping down the road Down the road between the trees, Drinking deep the April breeze. April now, and field and stream Bathed in April's golden gleam Bid me up and haste away Where the sunbeams dance and play. Out from dusty, dreary mart, Close to Mother Nature's heart. Out where springtime wakes anew 'Neath the April sky of blue. April now, and songbirds wake Echoes from each bough and brake. Green the grass beneath my feet, Flowers spread their odors sweet; Out across the field and fen, Onward through the woodland glen, Where the long, black furrows lie 'Neath the sheen of April's sky. 68 KIDDIES SIX THE PESSIMIST The cold and biting wind gives me a feeling That I must ready be to pay the toll Which is imposed upon me when I'm dealing With those who hold me up for winter coal. The dead leaves lie upon my lawn, and shaking From off the trees in whirling clouds alight ; And I must up at morn and set to raking To have a bonfire for the kids at night. I sit me down to read the evening paper, And all I see upon the printed page Is some divorce news, tariff dope or football caper, Or else the words of big pugs in a rage. I dig up two plunks at the theatre, And hope to see a drama worth my while; But find, alas, the play's by a creator Who thinks it best to picture all that's vile. I think sometimes I'll go out for a season And talk with neighbors on some topics live ; But find quite soon that he won't list to reason, But wants to play at "cinch" or else "high five." At noon I drop my work the briefest minute And hasten out to get a frugal lunch; Then all I hear is "Jeffries isn't in it!" Or ' ' Jim '11 put him out with just one punch ! ' ' At eve I hasten homeward worn and weary, As hungry as a bear and rather late. I'm stopped by some wardworker, red and bleary, Who tells me all about his candidate. 0, would that I with Cook or Peary's legions Had made a dash towards the frozen pole, And there, amidst those chilly polar regions, Found solitude to rest my weary soul. KIDDIES SIX FANCIES I used to sit in the firelight's glow, As flickering flames danced to and fro, And see great scenes in the embers bright Smiling Dryads and fairies light ; Towering castles and faces fair; Knights who answered the bugle 's blare ; Verdant valleys and far-flung hills In the redhot coals that the fire-place fills. Alas, alack! No longer so ; All things look black When fire burns low. Never a valley And no more hills Merely a glimpse Of more coal bills. Where once I viewed in the dancing flames Courtiers gay and bepowdered dames. Armored knights with the lance athrust I see naught now but the grim coal trust, Every flame that the chimney fills Whispers to me of the dollar bills: Mocks my face till I'm filled with rage At thoughts of long spent summer wage. Alas, my! No po-et-ree, Just sob and sigh In flames for me. Never a Dryad, To give me thrills Merely a hint Of more coal bills. 70 KIDDIES SIX THE REASON I often get a piece of pie, Or bread, or even cake, That's equal to the very best That mother used to bake. And mother was a famous cook Known all the country through For putting up the best of meals That hungry children knew. I used to think that modern cooks Had lost the noble art, But after long reflection I Espouse their cause and part. So when some grouchy man complains And calls their art in question, I know just what the matter is It's simply indigestion. GRIEF IN BOYVILLE [James A. Bailey, the famous circus man, died at his home in Mount Vernon, N. Y., on April 11.] What boots it now if empires fall And kingdoms all decay? What matters now if famine's pall Leaves sorrow in its way? For greater griefs than these can bring O'er boyhood now is spread, For James A. Bailey, circus king, Lies silent, cold and dead. KIDDIES SIX 71 Let kings their gambling games pursue "With human lives for stakes; Let war's alarms ring through the blue Until the whole world quakes. Tis not of these the small boy reads With bowed and sorry head; He notes with heart that sorely bleeds That James A. Bailey's dead. Let drums be heard with muffled beat, Let dirges fill the air; Let funeral trappings fill the street, Flags half-mast everywhere, The streets of Boyville reek with woe As forth with sorry tread The little folk in silence go For James A. Bailey's dead. No king in panoplied array With armies at his call Could cause a greater woe today If he down dead should fall. A moment would the old world pause, Then would he be forgot. But Bailey's name will win applause While there's a circus lot. The streets of Boyville reek with woe, And mournful trappings fly; In silence down the street boys go While tears bedim each eye. No king who ruled in pompous power With gold crown on his head Was ever mourned a single hour Like James A. Bailey, dead. 72 KIDDIES SIX THE LIGHTS 0' HOME When the shades of evening gather, and the disappear- ing sun Marks the close of day's endeavor, and the weary tasks are done; "When the stars begin to twinkle in the arch of heaven's dome, I am longing for the welcome of the shining lights o' home. Through the little cottage window with a radiance divine, And a welcome in their gleaming, I can see the bright beams shine. Far adown the street they greet me, and they beckon me to haste To the home where love awaits me, where love's hand the light has placed. 0, the lights o ' home ! Their gleaming, shining down the street afar, Bids me hasten to the greeting waiting where my loved ones are; And the toil of day forgotten in the welcomes that will greet Makes the homeward journey easy for my tired, halting feet. Childish feet make merry music as they patter o'er the floor; Happy voices wake the echoes as my children ope the door; And their ringing, happy laughter bids the cares of day depart, "While the joy of life and living takes possession of the heart. KIDDIES SIX 73 Lights o' home! Their mellow gleaming marks the way from care and strife; Brighten ev'ry nook and corner, give a zest of love and life; And each ev'ning, with my loved ones, hand in hand we gaily roam Through the fairy lands outlying, bathed in gleaming lights o' home. STATISTICAL One, two, three, four, five Mighty glad that I'm alive. Six, seven, eight, nine, ten July Fourth has gone again, And my fingers are all here Ready for another year. One, two to my surprise, I have still a pair of eyes. And I'm happy to declare I've my usual stock of hair. True, I've blisters by the score But the wonder is that more Do not on my form appear I'll do better, come next year. One, two yes, both ears on, Thought once one of them was gone. True, one's frazzled pretty bad, But it's on, and I am glad. All my teeth and all my toes Still here, but I ruined my clothes. But it was a glorious day. Spent in quite the same old way. 74 KIDDIES SIX "HELLO, NEIGHBOR!" When you weary of the journey as around the world you roam, "When you near the place you love best catch a glimpse of home, sweet home You forget the joys of travel in the joy so full and free That you feel in once more standing 'neath your own loved home roof-tree. And your heart is full to bursting with the thankfulness you feel As before the Throne of Mercy in your quiet home you kneel. Then you know that life no pleasure has for you a single lack When your friends come 'round you saying: "Hello, neighbor; glad you're back!" When you look in friendly faces, feel the grasp of hands of friends; When all thoughts of creed and party into honest friend- ship blends; When you see around about you those who know you day by day And can hear their cheery greeting as you pass along the way Then you know that life's worth living and that sweet- est pleasure ends When your ears can hear no longer hearty greeting from your friends. And your heart is full to bursting, and the tears un- bidden come As you hear their kindly greeting: "Hello, neighbor; welcome home!" KIDDIES SIX 75 When at last the final summons sounding from the other shore Tell that earthly toil is over and for me time is no more; When across the old home threshold for the last time I shall go And the dirges sound above me in their measures soft and low; When my eyes have closed forever on the earthly forms of friends, And life's journey with its trials and its joy and pleasure ends, May I wake to hear the music ringing 'round the heav- enly dome As old friends shall meet me saying: "Hello, neighbor; welcome home!" THE OLD SONGS Sweet songs of old ! How memory brings Their music back to me Until each bell of heaven rings Salvation full and free ! "Joy to the world," the music sweet Has filled a million souls, And marked the time for marching feet To where old Jordan rolls. "I need Thee ev'ry hour," for I Oft weary by the way; And "while the years are rolling by" Thou art my guide and stay. "Abide with me" through calm and stress, Protect me by Thy might; My weak and fait 'ring footsteps bless With Thine own "Kindly Light." 76 KIDDIES SIX The dear old songs! Their echoes fill The quiet evening air; They bid me bear life's load until "There'll be no sorrow there." "By cool Siloam's shady rill" Whose waters floweth free, Lead me each day and night until "Nearer, my God, to Thee." And when "on Jordan's stormy banks' My feet shall stand at last ; "When I shall see the ransomed ranks From whom all care is cast, "0 there may I, though vile as he" Christ did that day behold, The city's walls of jasper see And walk its streets of gold. WHAT'S THE USE? What's the use of running when there's time enough to walk? It is hurry that brings silver to your hair. What's the use of sighing when there's time for cheer- ful talk? It is worry that brings on the lines of care. What's the use of weeping over milk that has been spilled ? Other cows are feeding in the pasture lot. What's the use of groaning when the world with joy is filled? You are better off with many things forgot. What's the use of grumbling as you tote your heavy load? KIDDIES SIX 77 Loud complaining never made a burden light. What's the use of growling at the roughness of the road? It brings on no better rest when cometh night. What's the use of mourning o'er mistakes of other days? Time so spent is but another big mistake. What's the use of shutting out life's beauties from your gaze? Look, and get the joy of flowers in your wake. What's the use of striving for the things not worth your while ? Sodom's apples turn to ashes on your lips. What's the use of frowning when you have a chance to smile? Joy is always within reach of fingertips. What's the use bewailing that you have no chance to shine ? There are duties lying 'round on ev'ry hand. And the man who does his duty near approaches the divine, In good time the world will see and understand. THE ROAD TO YESTERDAY Down the long, broad road as it leads away To the pleasant scenes of a yesterday To the orchard wide where the laden trees Swing to and fro in the balmy breeze ; By the old well-sweep with its creaking pole And the big white rock by the swimming hole Ah, the scent that comes from the new mown hay Whose long drifts lay Where the sunbeams play On the long, wide road to yesterday ! 78 KIDDIES SIX The milestones stand with their tinge of gray As the mind harks back to a yesterday. And the road grows smooth as the eyes behold The long lost scenes of the days of old Faces bright of the old school crowd Long since wrapped in the sheet and shroud ; Welcome shouts from the chums so gay Who romp and play In the old-time way By the long, wide road to yesterday! The evening lamp through the window shines, And we see once more the stumbling lines Of the old textbooks, and each puzzling rule That caused us grief in the hours of school. And a sweet old face 'gainst the windowpane Looks down the reach of the shady lane ; And the welcome gleams in her bright eyes play As on we stray Through the evening gray Down the old, old road to yesterday ! Down the long, wide road as it leads away To the old-time scenes of that yesterday When the heart was light as the thistle's down, And we little knew of the hard world 's frown ; Where the friends we knew were the girls and boys To divide our woes and to share our joys Where life was sweet and the hours were gay With love and play In our childhood way At the end of the road to yesterday ! KIDDIES SIX 79 THE ONE WHO WAS NOT THERE Around the full Thanksgiving feast We gathered yesterday. From north and south, from west and east, Once more we found our way. Though hearts were full of joy and cheer We saw one vacant chair; And we recalled through smile and tear The one who was not there. We bowed our heads in heartfelt thanks For life and home and love ; Though God had broken family ranks And called one home above. We sat around the family board And breathed a silent prayer That in God's time would be restored The one who was not there. We decked with flowers the old-time place With roses red and white They called to mind her dear old face And eyes with love alight. Their incense filled the little hall With perfume rich and rare ; And every rose served to recall The one who was not there. We stood at mention of her name, And every head was bowed; Into our eyes the teardrops came, And fast did memories crowd. A shrine of love we built that day About that vacant chair; And each did loving homage pay To one who was not there. 80 KIDDIES SIX OL' MAN ARMSTEAD'S VIOLIN It ain't no use t' talk t' me 'Bout Paderewsky an' his class, F 'r when it comes t ' classic art I got t' let it by me pass. My ears wa'nt trained f ' r them fugees That make up such an awful din; But I kin listen by th' hour T' 01' Man Armstead's violin. Once't on a time I went t' hear TV famous Thomas orkestray. Th' players only sawed an' bio wed, But nary tune I heard 'em play. Good music? Well, perhaps it wuz T' them that like them screechy things; But give me music as it comes From 01' Man Armstead's fiddle strings. Sonatys an' great symphonees May suit th' eddicated taste; But on such yowling as that is I haven 't got no time t ' waste. The music that I love th' best Is them ol' tunes that's locked within Th' strings stretched tight across th' bridge Of Ol' Man Armstead's violin. An ' when my life o ' toil is done An' I am summoned up on high, I want some music soft an' sweet T' bear me upward t' th' sky. I want, when Peter swings th' gate T' let this weary toiler in, T' be a keepin' joyful step T' 01' Man Armstead's violin. KIDDIES SIX 81 AT THE BALL GAME With Dorothy, on pleasure bent, I to the ball game took my way; My mind upon the game intent And Dorothy, so blithe and gay. Up in the grandstand, side by side, With score card ready for the game, We watched the players leap and glide, And learned to call each one by name. "Play ball!" the umpire shrieked. And then I strove to teach the lass each play. "Now that's a 'strike,' " I said, "and when He strikes three times for him 'good day.' ' "0, yes," the dainty lass replied, While glancing 'round from where she sat, "He strikes three times. 0, Will," she cried, "Just look at that girl's frightful hat!" "And that's a 'ball,' " I next explained, "And four will give the man a base." She thanked me for the knowledge gained, A witching smile upon her face. "But pray," she asked, "what will he do With that big sack you say is first?" I don't see what 0, Will, did you See that girl's dress? It's sure the worst!" " 'Kah, that's a 'hit!' " I shrieked with glee. "Now beat it out! Yah, that's the stuff!" "0, how," asked Dorothy of me, "Can you use language that's so rough?" "Why, 'twas a 'hit;' a beauty, too," I said with something of restraint. "Quite so," she said. "0, look, Will; do! How can a woman use such paint?" 82 KIDDIES SIX ' ' Slide ! Slide ! you dub ! " I yelled with rage. "0, rats; you run just like a hearse. Of course you 're out back to your cage ! ' ' That much aloud aside, much worse. "Why, he's not out; I see him still," Quoth Dorothy in great surprise. "He's only goodness gracious, Will; That loud-dressed woman squints her eyes!" "We've got their pitcher in a hole!" I yelled, and loudly stamped my feet. "Why, Will; he's standing on that knoll," Said Dorothy in accents sweet. "I mean," said I in sheer despair, "W've got him o'er a barrel, dear." "A barrel? I 0, Will; her hair Is blondined sure ; it shows from here ! ' ' Back from the game we took our way, And Dorothy was full of glee. "O, I could watch them every day," She said, and coyly glanced at me. "The game was great won 3 to 2," Said I, " 'Twas won by bully ball." "0, yes; but, Will, why do they do Such yelling, dear?" And that was all. TO "HER" Through all life's ever-changing ways Thou are the same, 0, Heart o ' Mine ! Come good, come ill, the passing days Are bright from thee, my Valentine. KIDDIES SIX 83 MOTHER'S WORK Mother hasn't much to do To keep from growing lonely; Simply lives the long day through At little duties only. Gets the breakfast just for eight, While for sleep she wishes; Two for school must not be late Then she does the dishes. Then she sweeps the sitting room, Dining room and stairway; Wields a dustrag and a broom Till things shine in fair way, Then she has to dress the three. Small kids who've been sleeping "Dick" and Charlotte, Marjorie Then more dusting, sweeping. Then she combs three tousled heads And washes three bright faces; Makes a half dozen beds; Puts things in their places. Then the lunch for those from school ; Then the chores forgotten; Then her needle and a spool Of stout darning cotton. Dinner dishes washed and dried, Then the porches mopping ; Several patches well applied, Then a bit of shopping. Hungry eight to feed at night That's the regular number Coffee, sausage, biscuits light Then the "kids" to slumber. 84 KIDDIES SIX Then, the supper dishes done, Her easy day is ended, Save she sees that one by one All clothes are mended. Sews the missing buttons back, Mends the little dresses; Wipes out every muddy track That her sight distresses. Gets the kitchen all "O.K." For the early morning; Winds the clock so it will say Loud its early warning. Then, if nothing else to do, Upstairs she'll go creeping Just to waste an hour or two In not needed sleeping. Mother hasn't much to do That's how people view it Little work the whole day through, Eighteen hours to do it. But pa he has to work like sin In his important station; Eight hours then he is all in, And tired as creation! THE OLD SONGS When day is done, and o'er the world the gentle twilight drops ; When rush and roar have died away and busy traffic stops ; When spicy breezes borne by June from Araby the blest ; KIDDIES SIX 85 When "not a wave of trouble rolls across my peaceful breast ' ' I love to sit at ease and hear some sweet-voiced singer sing The good old Zion songs of yore, which fondest memories bring. "Since I can read my title clear" the tears come to my eye, But through the mists I seem to see those mansions in the sky. When evening shadows cool and deep have fallen o'er the world, I have forgot the cares of day when "fiery darts were hurled." And sitting in my old arm chair beneath the rustling trees It seems that I am borne away on "flowery beds of ease." A clear voice sings the good old songs, and in my thoughts I stand "On Jordan's stormy banks," and gaze on far-off "Beu- lah Land." Fond memories of other days the old songs bring to me, When "Now I lay me down to sleep" I lisped at mother's knee. When purpling shadows limn the west with gold and silver sheen, "Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood stand dressed in living green." The echoing music of the songs rings out upon the air The happy promise writ of old, "There'll be no sorrow there." All troubles flee as flee the days, and with a restful sigh I gaze "O'er Canaan's happy land where my possessions lie." 86 KIDDIES SIX Old days, old friends, come trooping back from out the shadowy past As o'er my soul those dear old songs their web of memory cast. Those good old songs, those dear old songs! When I am called to go I want to hear their melodies in measures soft and low; ''Just as I am without one plea," I'll lay me down to sleep, For "Jesus, lover of my soul," will still His watch care keep. And when I wake to endless day on yonder shining shore, I want to hear those grand old songs of Zion evermore. Those grand old songs our mothers sang! 0, sing them o'er to me, Until in that "Sweet Bye and Bye" the jasper walls I see. A WAIL FROM A WORKINGMAN I have vainly searched the papers and the household magazines For a recipe for dinner that will come within my means ; For a dinner, good, substantial, that will put fat on my frame And not cause financial panic in the purchase of the same. But to date I'm unsuccessful, for the menus that I see Are too delicate and dainty for a workingman like me. Magazines there are a plenty for the rich who dine in state, But I'm looking for a dinner that a dollar buys for eight. KIDDIES SIX 87 If I had a million dollars it would he an easy thing To support six hungry children who are always on the wing, But I'm making modest wages and I'm paying lots of rent, And I've got to cut the corners and make good with ev'ry cent. So it makes me mad to read 'em menus in the maga- zines, With their croquettes and their sauces let 'em talk of pork and beans ! "Dainty luncheons for three dollars!" I can't live at such a rate I am looking for a dinner than a dollar buys for eight. "Consomme and then some olives, then some mushrooms served on toast ; Chicken fried, pimenta salad, Saratoga chips and roast; Then some crackers and some coffee and a dainty bit of cheese This," my magazine informs me, "is a luncheon sure to please. ' ' Bless your soul, that wouldn't start us on the road from Hungry ville, For it takes substantial victuals and a lot of them to fill Me and those depending on me, and I'm looking early, late, For a good substantial dinner that a dollar buys for eight. If Carnegie wants to help us let him start some magazines That will give some information to the men of meagre means On the subject of providing three square meals within the pay Of a man who 's mighty lucky if he makes three plunks a day, 88 KIDDIES SIX And has got a growing family that depends on him alone To keep wolves from howling near them in a dismal sort of tone. Let him start one that will tell us how to dine in family state On a good substantial dinner that a dollar buys for eight. MY WANTS I do not want a fortune great; I do not seek the cares of state, With all their glitter and their glare, And wicked schemes afloat in air. I do not yearn for power or place; Nor would I take part in the race For gold I only ask that I May sow good will while passing by ; And that when I am laid below The cool, green sod, where daisies blow, Some one will pause a bit, and then Declare : "He helped his f ellowmen. ' ' I do not covet mansions grand, Nor acres broad on every hand ; I do not yearn for jewels bright, To dazzle my poor neighbor 's sight ; I do not yearn to take command, And order men on every hand I only ask that I may go Along a road where flowers blow, And dying, have men pause and say: "He scattered sunshine all the way." KIDDIES SIX 89 Let others dig and delve for gold; Let others place of power hold; Let others with a lordly air, Stand forth within the limelight's glare; Let others trade on hopes and fears, And profit by the sobs and tears Of those they wreck. I only ask The strength to do each daily task, Then homeward go with heart elate And greet my loved ones at the gate ; Then, dying, have men pause a while And say: "He gave the world a smile." THANKSGIVING I thank Thee, Lord, that through the year Rich blessings have around me spread; That though some days seemed dark and drear The sun some gleams of splendor shed. I thank Thee, Lord, for strength of arm To toil for those within my care; For Thy great love that saved from harm And blessings gave in richest share. For all Thy blessings on life's way I thank Thee this Thanksgiving Day. I thank Thee, Lord, as one by one The days sped to eternity, Each evening's low descending sun Left loved ones here to welcome me. I thank Thee, Lord, when day's work o'er And footsteps turned to home and rest, That childish welcomes at the door Made ev'ry passing moment blest. For all these joys I gladly pay My tributes this Thanksgiving Day. 90 KIDDIES SIX I thank Thee, Lord, that each day's dawn Was ushered in with hope and cheer ; That each day's sun could shine upon Life's path devoid of thorn or tear. I thank Thee, Lord, for soft caress Of childish fingers on my face; For love that left, through storm and stress, Around my board no vacant place. For blessings spread about my way I praise Thee this Thanksgiving Day. I thank Thee, Lord, for all the friends Whose cheery welcomes make life sweet; For love that all my way attends, And make my happiness complete. I thank Thee, Lord, for hands stretched out To clasp my own in friendship warm; For hope that puts to flight each doubt And haven gives in ev'ry storm. For all Thy goodness on life's way I praise Thee this Thanksgiving Day. LIKE A BOY AGAIN O, I am growing anxious, just as anxious as a kid, To see the Christmas presents that I know are snugly hid In closet or in bureau anywhere my eyes won't see Until they hang in splendor on the lighted Christmas tree. I know my children bought them for they slyly nod and smile, And mamma who's their partner wears an air of utter guile. I know I should know better at my age, but Gee Whiz! when The Christmas season strikes me I am just a boy again. KIDDIES SIX 91 I know it would be proper at my age if I'd decide To court a quiet manner and be grave and dignified; That 'twould be more in keeping with my age and hair of gray If I would look important and put childish things away. But what's the use of talking? When the kids begin to sneak Around upon their tip-toes, and they scarcely dare to speak Above a giggling whisper something strike me biff! and then I know it's nigh to Christmas and I'm just a boy again. At close of day I hasten toward the light that shines for me; I want to hear the music when my children laugh with glee; I want to see them scatter as they haste to hide their things That I'm not supposed to look at till old Santa kindly brings. I want to be a sharer in the old-time Christmas joys That have made the old world brighter to uncounted girls and boys. And that's why I can't be stately or austere, like many men, For I get chock full of Christmas and become a boy again. MEMORY There's a mem'ry comes stealing o'er my mind when shadows fall As the sun sinks slowly down the purple west, And my little ones are nodding at the sandman's evening call 92 KIDDIES SIX For the end of the play and hurry off to rest. In that memory comes clearly, from the years long gone before, One sweet voice that makes the dead years backward creep, In a song my mother sang us in the vanished days of yore When she gently crooned her little ones to sleep. "How firm a foundation!" she had laid them deep and strong With a faith that never knew a doubt or fear. "In every condition" still she voiced her faith in song, Saw her heavenly mansions with a vision clear. In my memory I still hear her, rocking gently to and fro As the twilight darkened in the western deep ; Singing that old song of Zion, with her eyes of faith aglow, As she gently crooned her little ones to sleep. "Fear not, I am with you!" and she smiled at every foe That assailed her simple trust in Calvary. "I'll strengthen you, help you!" she still sang it soft and low As she rocked her little ones upon her knee. I can hear her sweet voice singing down the vista of the years, Voicing faith that led o'er vale and mountain steep, And I sing to my own children in a voice oft choked with tears That same song she sang in crooning us to sleep. " E 'en down to old age ! ' ' yet whatever might betide Well she knew her feet would never go astray, For the One in whom she trusted walked forever by her side, Shielded with her tender love both night and day. KIDDIES SIX 93 And when the final summons bid her enter joys divine Quick she answered with a faith I fain would keep ; For the hand that gently led her I would ever hold in mine Till I hear her sweet voice crooning me to sleep. AN ANNIVERSARY Hand clasped in hand down this life 's winding pathways, On through the flowers and frosts of the years; Side by side, forward through sunshine and dark days, Comrades we two in the joy time and tears. Ever and on where the future shall lead us, Facing with hope ev'ry day as it breaks; Praying for strength when our loved ones shall need us, Trusting in One whose love never forsakes. Little hands clasping our own as we journey Upward and onward o 'er mountain and plain ; Giving us courage to enter life 's tourney, Fighting and striving again and again. Children's glad voices that make music dearer, Than ever was heard from the sweetest harp strings; Baby smiles bringing the angel hosts nearer Until we can hear the soft beat of their wings. Bright lights agleam when the darkness is falling. Pointing the pathway to home and its rest; Childish eyes bright, and the sweet voices calling, Calling me safe to the cottage home nest. Heart o' my heart, as the years swiftly gliding Add to our storehouse of roses or rue, Still, with a love and a trust both abiding, Journey we on with our hearts beating true. 94 KIDDIES SIX THE TRUANT I want to get out in the open, Out with the birds and the trees; Through cool, shady nooks, by babbling brooks, Out in the spring's balmy breeze. I want to play truant and wander Away from my office and books ; 'Neath blue of the sky and sun shining high, Through thicket and flower-laden nooks. I want to forget care and worry, The heat of the world's busy fray; Away from the mart and back to the heart Of nature, if but for a day. I want to just loll and lazy With never a doubt nor a care ; A boy once again, o'er moorland and fen, As free and as wild as the air. I'm weary of straining and striving Amidst all the money-mad throng; Of sham and of show, of want and of woe, Of all the grim cohorts of wrong. I want to get out in the open, Away from the grim market place; A day of release, of joy and of peace, Afar from the world's frenzied race. I 'm going there 's nothing can stop me ! I'm master of self for a day. Each duty I'll shirk tomorrow I'll work, Today have I chosen to play. In vain will they seek who are looking For me at my daily employ; I'm off for the day, I'm out and away, As free as a barefooted boy. KIDDIES SIX 95 WRITIN' RHYMES I ain't claimin' no poet style, But jus' keep writin', an' maybe I'll Grind out somethin' after while That'll bring t' quiverin' lips a smile An' I'm content if that helps some To keep a-goin' when troubles come. Sometimes what I write don't quite rhyme, An' poetic feet don't keep good time; An' as f 'r grammar, well, maybe I'm Kindo weak, an' th' errors climb, But I don't keer; I do my best An' keep on writin' with added zest. Don't take no flights o' fancy high, F'r soarin' ain't my mission. I Jus' sit down t' my desk an' try T' make smiles chase away th' sigh, Write common stuff f 'r common folks Whose tired necks wear weary yokes. Can't write no high toned poetry; Jus' write o' th' common things I see O' chil'run climbin' upon my knee, An' humble cots where th' home ties be Jus' haltin' rhymes o' th' common things, An' grind em' out f 'r th' joy it brings. Jus' common stuff, that I'll admit, But if th' writin' will help a bit T' bid good cheer come in an' sit Right down, I'm just a-thinkin' it Won't be no waste of a feller's time, An' that is th' very reason I'm A goin' to keep on day by day Writin' stuff in my poor, weak way; 96 KIDDIES SIX An' if th' writin' will make smiles play On one sad face, then all I'll say Is, I'm content; f'r one who tries Don't care f'r them that criticise. Sing o' th' common things o' life; Laughin' chil'run, o' home an' wife; P'rgettin' awhile th' cares an' strife With which this bustlin' world is rife. Sing in a style that some may say Is rough an' homely. But anyway Th' style suits me, an' I'm satisfied With jus ' th ' fact o ' havin ' tried T' scatter a few smiles fur an' wide, Or havin' a few o' life's tears dried. AT FORTY On the shady side of forty, but the sun is sailing high, And the path is gently winding where the sweetest roses lie. On the shady side of forty, but amidst the golden glow I .am walking with my loved ones where the fairest flowers grow. Youth beside me still is trudging down the incense laden way, And I fear not coming shadows of an evening cold and gray. For with light and love and laughter, why should one be full of gloom On the shady side of forty, with the roses all in bloom? On the shady side of forty, but yet scarcely past the noon ; And the birds are gaily singing each its merry woodland tune. On the shady side of forty, but my journey I pursue KIDDIES SIX 97 Full of hope and cheer and pleasure with the old friends tried and true. Love is keeping step beside me, and the sky o'erhead is clear, And I take no thought of twilight and a night time dark of dread For while loved ones cling about me, why should I be full of dread On the shady side of forty, with a bright sky overhead? On the shady side of forty, but my joys are all increased, For I live again the hours when the sun was in the east. On the shady side of forty, and I live again the joy Of the mem'ries gay and happy of the days when but a boy. Visions sweet come trooping past me as I walk along the way, And I live a happy morning working till the close of day. So with loved ones walking with me while the west is all aglow, 1 can pluck life's sweetest flowers in the garden where they grow. On the shady side of forty? Nay, tis on the sunny side, For I see the sun in splendor down the sky-blue distance glide ; While its golden tints are painting on the canvas of the west Pictures of a stately mansion where at last my soul shall rest. On the sunny side of forty ! And the pathway leads along Flowered banks, and rills that ripple in a never-ceasing song; And I walk with loved ones ever with a heart both light and gay, On the sunny side of forty in the brightest of the day. 98 KIDDIES SIX FORTY-FOUR Time goes on a little faster, though my steps are growing slow, But the sun still shines in splendor and still sets in golden glow; And old friends, old times, old mem'ries, grow still dearer unto me As I walk the sunset roadway leading to eternity. Home scenes grow a little dearer with the close of each long day, Sweeter grows my children's laughter as I watch them at their play, And I take my ease at twilight, sitting by my cottage door, Thanking God that life is spared me and I'm young at forty-four. Sweeter grow the soft caresses as my children's fingers twine Through the silver threads that glisten in this graying head of mine ; Softer, sweeter grows the music as Dame Nature sweeps the strings Of the wind harps in the forest till the earth with rapture rings ; Softer grow the sunset colors as the sun sinks into rest In a couch of fleece-clouds downy in the dim and distant west; And I sit while twilight shadows creep across my cottage floor, Thanking God for home and loved ones at the age of forty-four. Life is always what you make it you may build for * weal or woe. 99 Rough the road, or smooth, my brother it depends which way you go. Love and laughter smooth the pathway sighs and groans will make it rough; You can see more flowers blooming if you'll just look long enough. And >as you pursue your journey, hand in hand with those you love, You will see the sun shine brightly though the dark clouds hang above. Swift the years go gliding by me, but I heed their flight no more I'm too thankful for my blessings at the age of forty- four. FORTY-FIVE A few gray hairs and a wrinkle or two, And a growing love for an easy chair, A longer search for an easy shoe, And a longer rest in the twilight fair. But the sun's as bright and the joys as keen As in days gone by when the years were few, And the whole world grows with a golden sheen While I gaze far out on the charming view. And O, it's glorious to be alive And feeling fit at forty-five ! I may not stand in the highest place And win applause from admiring throng. I may not win in the world's mad race, Nor join with pride in the victor's song, But when daylight dies I can haste away From the toils and cares that are given me, And spend the hours of the closing day 100 KIDDIES SIX With loved ones gathered about my knee. For 0, it's glorious to be alive To scatter roses at forty-five. TV advancing years bring their recompense In the ties of friendship stronger grown; In a comradeship growing more intense As the days unfold to the great unknown. So I will not mourn for the days now dead, But in today and its joys take part What matters years that have swiftly sped If youth still lingers within the heart ? Rejoice with me I am still alive And young of heart at forty-five. The birds still sing and the flowers bloom, And the children laugh in the same old way; The same sun rises to banish gloom, The same joys come with the dawning day. So I'll not repine as the time speeds fast, But live today with its joy and cheer. What matters the days that are dead and past? Today with its message of hope is here. I'm doubly glad I am still alive With loved ones 'round me at forty-five. FORTY-SEVEN Drawing very close to fifty how the years go rolling by- And the sun of life is blazing at its zenith in the sky. Almost fifty years of living, skies of blue and clouds of gray, And my mem'ry loves to linger over every bygone day. Days of boyhood games and laughter, days of rosy dawn of youth; KIDDIES SIX 101 Days of early manhood bringing wealth of roses and of ruth. Ah, the long years that have faded in the dim and distant past Till I'm owning forty-seven; nearing fifty pretty fast! Forty-seven years of living much of joy and some of care; Little gold to line my pockets, lots of silver in my hair. Years of wandering wherever vagrant fancies bade me roam, But the sweetest years of living are the years of Home, Sweet Home. And when evening shades are falling, as the sun sinks in the west, I know well the home years give me all of life that is the best. So I sit beneath the home-tree with the ones I love most dear, Quite content at forty-seven and with fifty drawing near. Forty-seven years of living and of loving on the way, Looking through each cloud of sorrow on to where the sunbeams play. Four score years and seven count them joys out- number all the woes, And I've quick forgot the thornpricks in the perfume of the rose. Years of dreaming and of doing; years of failure and success, But, thank God, each year made brighter by some true friend's kind caress. Now with life's sun at the zenith and the shadows east- ward flung, I shall cease this growing older, and just keep on growing young. 102 KIDDIES SIX FIFTEEN YEARS Through bright sunshine and stormy weather For fifteen years we've walked together, Sweetheart, you and I. Hand clasped in hand through all the days "We've helped each other on life's ways, 'Neath clear or gloomy sky. And on this day your presence cheers, sweetheart of those fifteen years, Just as it did that autumn day You started with me on life's way. Though time has brought us much of sorrow "We've held our faith in bright tomorrow, Sweetheart, you and I. And though deep grief has brought the tears We look back on the vanished years With more of smile than sigh. And though we both have older grown With years that o'er our heads have flown, To me you're still the trusting maid That walked forth with me unafraid. The fleeting years their cycles turning Have kept our youthful lovelights burning, Sweetheart, you and I. And now, dear one, w r e backward gaze Upon those long departed days Where treasured inem'ries lie, And heart to heart and hand in hand Upon the future's threshold stand, And with our hearts free from all fears We look toward e'en brighter years. Through bright sunshine or stormy weather For fifteen years we 've walked together, Sweetheart, you and I. KIDDIES SIX 103 And 'round our knees our children play When shadows mark the close of day, And evening hours go by. Dear one, as down life's ways we pass You e'er will be the sweet-faced lass The little sweetheart blythe and gay, Of fifteen years ago today. DENMAN THOMPSON A message comes from Swanzy, Maine, That grief and anguish spread, A message fraught with deepest pain: "01' Joshua Whitcomb's dead." Dear soul, who made us better men By many a homely phrase; Who led us back to youth again Through old-time days and ways. The kindly face and tender heart Are cold in death today ; The loving soul has played its part Within its walls of clay. And heaven's gates are opened wide While waits the heavenly crew To raise a welcome shout inside When 01' Josh passes through. The home folks down in Swanzy, Maine, Are kinfolks all today. Their grief our grief, their pain .our pain, When 01' Josh passed away. Sleep, dear soul, sleep ; and sweet thy rest As you to others gave. Bloom, fairest flowers, at your best Above Josh Whitcomb 's grave. 104 KIDDIES SIX GRANDPA! He sits beside the fireplace and dreams of days long dead, The ruddy gleams of dancing flames a halo o'er his head. He lives again the days of youth when life was young and gay, And Love twined roses in a wreath to beautify his way. He hears the rolling of the drums, the shrill fife piping free; He dreams of comrades on the march and hears the reveille. Through battle-smoke he sees the flag ! Ah, stirring days of yore And grandpa, sitting by the fire, lives through the days once more. Ho hears the tumult die away, the cannon's roar is stilled, And with the strains of "Home, Sweet Home" the circling camp is filled. He sees his mother at the gate the welcome home lights burn He hears the neighbors shout with glee to welcome his return. Across the fields he takes his way to till the fertile soil; From war's alarms to ways of peace, from camp to earn- est toil. He sees the changing seasons .come, the peaceful har- vest's store And grandpa, sitting by the fire, lives through the days once more. Once more adown the shady lane he walks Dan Cupid's way, A maiden's hand clasped in his own as dies the light of day. He sees beyond the ruddy glow of fire-place so wide KIDDIES SIX 105 A rocking chair swing to and fro his young and bonny bride. He hea^s the songs of childish glee, the tread of childish feet; lie feeb the dainty, soft caress of childish lips so sweet. Through memory's haze he sees the toys of childhood on the floor And grandpa, sitting by the fire, lives through the days once more. He sits beside the fireplace and dreams of days long dead, Thf ruddy gleams of dancing flames a halo o'er his head. His kindly face is wreathed in smiles, his heart is young and gay, And children gather 'round his knee as daylight fades away. He sings them songs of long ago when he was but a boy ; When life was only sunshine, and love without alloy. And seeing with their youthful eyes those long gone days of yore, He sits beside the fireplace and lives the years once more. OLD FOLKS AT HOME Around this world for many a year, 'Neath flags of many a hue, O'er fertile field and desert drear, 'Neath clouds, and skies of blue, I've roamed. I've seen the brightest lights, The deepest depths of woe; The fashions at the greatest heights, The misery down below. 106 KIDDIES SIX 'Neath Spanish skies I've heard the strain Of many a soft guitar; I've heard great bands in loud refrain Play hymns of stirring war. But just the other night I heard The music of the spheres And memory flew back, like a bird, Through all the long gone years. 'Twas down in old St. Louis, too, I heard the sweet refrain That brought the old days back to view I was a boy again. A great crowd sat beneath the dome, Bright lights on ev'ry hand, And Sembrich sang "Old Folks at Home," "While Max Zach led the band. I saw a humble little place Far down a village street; I saw a dear old smiling face That shone with blessings sweet. I walked the streets I used to roam, 'Neath trees I used to climb, When Sembrich sang ' ' Old Folks at Home, ' ' With Max Zach beating time. I felt upon my cheeks the kiss Of boyhood's dearest friend The mother-touch we daily miss, And treasure to the end. I heard the birds sing in the trees, The rippling brooklet's call; The sighing of the old-time breeze, The brown nut's pattering fall. KIDDIES SIX 107 I felt the touch of vanished hands, Heard sounds of voices stilled; And o'er the long unswept heartstrands Old memories throbbed and thrilled, And brighter grew the starlit dome, And life grew more sublime, When Sembrich sang "Old Folks at Home," With Max Zach keeping time. Around the world I've roamed for years 'Neath flags of many a hue. I've had my share of joys and tears Storm clouds and skies of blue. But I'll recall while on I roam Through many a land and clime When Sembrich sang "Old Folks at Home," With Max Zach keeping time. THE NEWS FROM HOME [With the writer's best wishes for many more years of life and usefulness to "Deacon" Dobyns, Editor of "The Sentinel," of Oregon, Mo.] It's just like getting a letter from home, This little old sheet from the town I was born in ; A message of cheer wherever I roam That says to me weekly "Th' top o' th' mornin'!" It brings to vision a picture complete Of streets and of nooks and of cool, shady places ; From out of its pages it seems that I meet The smile and the cheer of the old friendly faces. 108 KIDDIES SIX It's not a journal of national fame, This six-column sheet from the town of my boyhood ; But week after week I long, just the same, To have it bring back to me scenes of youth's joyhood. Eight there is the name of an old school chum Who with me has wandered the miles without number. Ah, where are the others? Some lips are long dumb, And under the blossoms of springtime they slumber. Those friends of boyhood like me they've grown old. And like me have wandered the earth's furthest places. And wouldn't we give of silver and gold To smile once again into each other's faces? Each time I get it and scan every line It seems when I'm done like I'd just spent a week in The presence of those dear old friends of mine, The chums of my boyhood, and Tom and the "Deacon." I hear once again the clang of the press, And memory brings back the days long departed; Days when I knew naught of sorrow and stress A boy in the old town, carefree and lighthearted. They may have bigger, and better, perhaps, Than those little sheets from the towns we w^re born in; But none of them pleases us wandering chaps Like papers from home with their "Top o' th' mornin ' ! " And week after week we eagerly look For names of the friends of the days long behind us An hour a week in some cool, quiet nook With the welcome old sheet to of old days remind us. KIDDIES SIX 109 GOING BACK I'm going back; I'm going back, and be a boy again, Leave far behind the cares of now and taste the joys of then. I'm going to dive head-first once more in that ol' swim- min' hole, And wander 'long the river's banks with my cane fishin' pole. Back to the joys of yester years, when life was free from care; When every sky was azure blue and every breeze was fair. I'm going to sit upon the bank and chew the rag with Blunk, And watch to see my bobbing cork go underneath ker-plunk ! I'm going back; I'm going back, through all the vanished days And gather in the bloom of youth along the old-time ways. Down by the mill and through the woods, and past the shaded hill, And through the pasture lot that lies along the rippling rill; Eight to the stump that's leaning o'er the deepest, dark- est pool, Where lurk the bullheads and the perch beneath the waters cool. And then, forgetful of life's cares, I'll sit and talk with Blunk, While we keep careful watch to see when our corks go ker-plunk ! I'm going back; I'm going back, forgetful of the years 110 KIDDIES SIX That tinge my once black hair with gray, forget all cares and tears, To be a care-free boy again, with happy, joyous heart, And sit and fish the old, old stream where cautious bull- heads dart. Then, when the sun sinks slowly down behind the crim- son west, And birds and beasts have settled down for hours of peaceful rest, I'll slowly take the backward trail, and later, in my bunk, I'll say my "lay me down to sleep" and dream of youth, and Blunk ! PICTURES Jack Frost can paint rare pictures On the window over night, Tracing myriad forms gymnastic With his pencil cold and white. But the rarest, fairest picture That high art can e'er attain Is my baby's smiling features Framed within the windowpane. When the fiery artist limns his Pictures in the glowing coals He can touch the finest feelings Of the most artistic souls. But the sweetest, neatest picture Ever shown to mortal sight Is my baby's smiling features By the evening lamp alight. When the sun god lays his colors On the canvas of the world, KIDDIES SIX 111 You may think earth 's richest treasure To your gaze has been unfurled. But the rarest, fairest picture I can ever hope to know Is my baby's smiling features With the light of love aglow. THE CHEERUPATHIST When you're feel 'in kind o' blue, An' things comin' bad for you, Don't give up in blank despair, Weep or wail or tear your hair ; Grit your teeth an' bow your neck; Show th' world you're right on deck. Smile an' say, "Well, here we come- Stand aside an' watch us hum." You've good reason to be glad That though things are comin' bad, They might easily be worse ; So, you're foolish if you curse 'Stead o' tryin' to catch sight Of th' silver linin' bright. Grit your teeth an' hustle out An' you'll win without a doubt. In your mind th' fable bear Of th' tortoise an' th' hare. You may be a movin' slow That don't matter only go. Don't stand still an' weep an' wail, But keep pluggin' up th' trail. Smile your troubles all away An' you'll land all right some day. 112 KIDDIES SIX TODAY I care not what the future holds For me alone. I only know In summer heats and winter colds I'll do my best as on I go. I'll face the future with a smile, Content to meet whate 'er may be ; And say to all I meet the while, Today is good enough for me. I may not win a golden store, Nor e 'er achieve undying fame ; But I, at least, can strive the more To squarely play life's little game. I may not build a future great Nor win renown upon the way; But I, at least, can scoff at fate, For I am master of today. Not time, nor fate, nor circumstance Can crush the hopes that in me lie; The storms that rage, the lightning's glance, But clear the atmosphere and sky. I fear no future, for I know Whate 'er betide along life's way, For me the flowers bloom and blow, And I am master of today. Come good, come ill, I will not yield To sullen frown nor adverse grasp ; With utmost strength I'll stand and wield The weapons that my hands may clasp. I'll waste no time in idle thought Of what the future hides away; As given me, so have I wrought, And I am master of today. KIDDIES SIX 113 GOD BLESS HIM! Here's to the man who smiles on you And gives you a cheery "howdy-do;" And falls in step when you're walking lame From the bruises met in the world's rough game; Who meets you with a warm handclasp That makes old trouble fairly gasp; Who says "hello!" and "howdy-do!" And makes the world grow bright for you. Here's to the man you chance to meet In busy mart or the crowded street, When you are fairly down and out And lost in mire of deepest doubt; Who slaps your back and cries "hello!" With face alight with friendship 's glow ; Who says "hello;" and "howdy-do!" And makes life take a brighter hue. Here's to the man of big, brave heart Who dares from the crowd to step apart And lend a hand to the man who fell To the very brink of the lowest hell ; Who says, "Hello! what cheer, old scout!" And helps him up to the right-about. Who says "hello!" and "howdy-do!" And starts him off on the way anew. Here's to the man unknown to fame Who loves all men and plays the game Of this life square, and scorns to make A profit big from a friend's mistake; Whose eyes light up when he comes your way And passes a pleasant time o' day; Who says "hello!" and "howdy-do!" And smiles, and gives new strength to you. 114 KIDDIES SIX "OLD HOME WEEK" Back to the home of childhood ; back to the old, old days ; Back to the dear old wildwood; back to the old home ways, Where our young feet strayed in the sun and shade, And we gaily roamed in the flow'ry glade; When life was a dream in a gnomeland laid, And all of the unsought future was bright to our youth- ful gaze. Through each field and glen of the Golden Then Once more our feet are straying, And we catch the breeze in the old, old trees That sweet old chants are playing. We tread the paths through the dear old grove; And delve in memory's treasure trove, And the tired Now in the old Then blends And we grasp the hands of our playtime friends ; And a new light shines in our weary eyes As the old, old tunes we're humming. For we've laid the load by the dusty road To haste to the Old Home Coming. Through the quiet street our eager feet The way to the old house taking. To our eager sight on the left and right The old-time scenes are breaking. We stand once more in the dim old hall While memory's echoing voices call. We catch a glimpse of a sweet old face That used to smile by the fireplace, And the old love lies in those dear old eyes That memory brings to greet us. And we see once more that form of yore That memory brings to meet us. KIDDIES SIX 115 Back to the home of childhood; back to the old. oM days; Back to the dear old wildwood; back to the old home ways, "Where we dreamed youth's dreams midst the golden gleams That played on waves of the rippling streams; "When life was as light as the noon sun's beams, And all of the unsought future was bright to our youth- ful gaze. WHEN MY SHIP COMES IN Working and smiling I wait the day When my ship comes sailing in; Hoping, when it shall at anchor lay On the rippling surface of my life's bay And the storm has hushed its din, That it shall bring in its laden hold Not ingot bars of the far east's gold, But smiles and joys of my lifelong friends To light my way till the journey ends Then, then shall the perfect peace begin, When my ship comes sailing in. Hope burns bright though the clouds hang low, And my ship sails on and on. Far out at sea where the strong winds blow And far-flung clouds 'neath the blue sky go, The captain and crew have gone. Love is the captain, and Faith the crew, And the good ship sails the ocean blue ; It nearer comes with each closing day, Plowing the waves of the sea's highway; On through the sun or the gray mists thin, Is my good ship sailing in. 116 KIDDIES SIX Freighted with hopes that the years have borne Is the ship I long to see. Balm that shall heal all the heart-strings torn, Rest for the hands so long toil worn, In years that have passed o'er me. Shadowy forms that have long lain cold In the dews and damps of the church-yard mold ; The warm handclasps that I used to know, And the laughing eyes with their lovelight glow Then shall be hushed all the world's rough din, When my ship comes sailing in. When white sails rise to my waiting eyes And my ship shall anchor cast; When the hold shall yield each precious prize And lie full spread 'neath the bright blue skies And I count my joys at last; Then, laying my toils and trials by, And all of my loved ones drawing nigh, I'll rest content till the setting sun; Shall sing to sleep with my life 's work done, And wake where eternal joys begin After my ship comes in. UNDER THE MISTLETOE My sweetheart stood 'neath the mistletoe When the Christmas morn dawned bright and fair ; I saw the love in her eyes aglow As she waited, smiling, for me there. I caught the challenge she flung at me I couldn't help it to save my life And springing forward I planted square A kiss on the lips of my sweetheart- wife. KIDDIES SIX 117 JOHN'S WEALTH Three hundred millions all he's worth? How poor John D. must feel ! Just millions nothing else on earth, He misses much that's real. Three hundred million ducats piled In one large yellow stack- And a digestion sadly riled, With stomach out of whack. Three hundred million "yellow boys" To do with as may please, And yet he doesn't know the joys Of buttermilk and cheese. He's got the dollars in his clutch, But little good they do; He cannot eat a jolly "Dutch Lunch" just like me and you. Just twenty million plunks a year, But they give no delight, He'd give 'em all to feel the cheer Of a good appetite. A hundred thousand plunks a day Now doesn't that sound grand? But John would give 'em all away To eat a good "corned beef and." John has a palace rich and grand Amidst the New York hills; I've got an humble cottage, and I toil to meet my bills. But my digestion's something fine. And appetite 0. K. And I'd not trade these joys of mine For all John D.'s today. 118 KIDDIES SIX MY VACATION I read about the mountains, Scenery sublime and great; Of purling streams and fountains, Trout with greed insatiate. I read of long vacations Spent in shadows of the peak But I'll make no preparation, For I'll only have a week. I read about the ocean, Wavelets breaking bright and blue ; Read of storm king's wild commotion, Cliffs and crags of rugged view. But I only read and ponder, For I'll only have a week. So I'll dig some worms and wander, Fish for bullheads in the creek. MY PART I may not lead some great world-wide reform That benefits my fellowman; But I can show my sympathies are warm And cheer the men who can. I may not have the brains to lead a fight Against the wrongs on every hand; But I can help the man who has, all right I'll cheer to beat the band. I may not give to all who hunger feel A feast of viands rich and rare ; But I can give some brother half my meal And banish one's despair. KIDDIES SIX 119 I may not slay the dragons lust and greed That day by day oppress my fellowman; But I can cheer and wish a warm God-speed Unto the man who can. I may not be the man to point the way To nobler words and thoughts and deeds; But I can cheer, and thus help day by day The man who can and leads. I may not have the talent at command To fire men 's hearts to battle 'gainst the wrong ; But when I see one, by him I can stand And help the work along. THE MISTLETOE She stood beneath the mistletoe, Innocent as could be; She looked about her everywhere At everyone but me. And I well, I just took a chance Amidst the revelers there, And pressing forward to her side I kissed her, fair and square. Then later, in a shaded nook, From interference free, She said she knew I'd take the bait And didn't look at me. And so, young man, I'd give advice "Just watch your chance and go For her who never looks at you, Under the mistletoe." 120 KIDDIES SIX REAL MUSIC You may talk about Beethoven, of Mozart and Ruben- stein, For their music may be bully but another kind for mine. You may talk about sonatas with their low and swelling chords, Or about those airy nothings that are called "songs without words." And your rhapsodies and fuges, with their trills and roundelays May be counted as artistic and entitled to our praise. But the music that best suits me with its swelling cadence sweet Is the clatter of the binder in the fields of waving wheat. Mendelssohn was some musician, and of rourse you ought to know Paganini was the master of the fiddle and the bow. Paderewski is a wonder when he paws his yellow hair And gets busy with the iv'ry, thumping on the keys for fair. And there's Sousa with his brasses playing marches full of swing. Till you feel your feet a-tapping while the very echoes ring. But the music that will hold me, make my happiness complete, Is the clatter of the binder in the fields of waving wheat. You can hear the song of plenty rise above the rolling plain As the busy binder clatters through the fields of golden grain. You can hear the happy laughter that about the land is spread KIDDIES SIX 121 When the music of the binder means a busy world well fed. For across the hills and valleys sound the chorus of content, Till the world joins in the singing of the people's better- ment. And the summer air is freighted with the harvest music sweet As the busy binder clatters through the fields of waving wheat. [Verses read at the Old Settlers' meeting at Nemaha City, Nebr., August 2, 1907.] In the far gone days when the land was young; And the West a land as a thing unknown ; With the golden future a song unsung And the sentinel buttes stood guard alone, A rumor spread through the rockbound steeps And the stony fields of the eastern slope That far out west where the sundown sleeps Was the land of promise, and youth, and hope. To the stirring call of this far new land There came response as in days of yore When the great crusades called that gallant band That bravely marched with the cross before; And on they swept and ever on, Till on history's page at last appears The names whose fame 'round the world has gone- This gallant army of pioneers. 122 KIDDIES SIX On, on they came like the restless tide, Sweeping far out to the sundown west; In the matchless strength of their free born pride, The nation's hope, and the nation's best. And ever and on their far front spread Through days and nights of the toil-scarred years, Till the desert wastes, like the fog mists, fled At the .onward sweep of the pioneers. The prairies, scarred by the oxdrawn craft, Spread out before like the Promised Land, And then, at the touch of toil it laughed To fruitful harvests on every hand. But not alone in their strength they wrought Through weary days of their hopes and fears, For the God, whose help and strength they sought, Marched side by side with the pioneers. With sturdy blows and with purpose true They built their homes out of prairie sod; Giving the nation a great state new, Giving their hearts to home and God. And thus was carved from the barren waste An empire built for eternal years, And the men at the posts of danger placed Were these great souls the Pioneers. So here is a song to the women and men Who pushed their way to the wide-spread west; Whose span of life 'twixt now and then Has given this nation its grandest, best. And ever we'll sing while eternity rolls Unceasing cycles of gathering years Our songs of rejoicing for these great souls Who builded Nebraska The Pioneers. KIDDIES SIX 123 THANKSGIVING Getting ready for Thanksgiving turkey fat and grow- ing fine Lots of reason to be thankful; blessings full and free are mine. Health and home and smiles of loved ones; friends to greet me on my way ; Love and laughter making music where my happy chil- dren play. Cosy nook beside the fire when the evening shadows fall And the ease of solid comfort gathers 'round and over all. Getting ready for Thanksgiving? Ev'ry day let it be said We have cause for deep thanksgiving for the blessings 'round us spread. Getting ready for Thanksgiving from the distance wide apart "We can feel the loving message heart is sending forth to heart. From the far-off lands and places where their busy foot- steps roam We can hear them gladly singing: "Wait for us; we're coming home." Home, to old-time scenes and places; home to loved ones always dear; Home, around the family table with its wealth of love and cheer. Getting ready for Thanksgiving happy milestone on the way Where we give thanks for the blessings spread about us day by day. Getting ready for Thanksgiving that's the place for father's chair 124 KIDDIES SIX Where the ruddy flames will glisten on the silver in his hair. And that easy rocker by it empty all these fleeting years We will see a loved form take it through the mist of falling tears. This for brother; this for sister Ah, the circle is com- plete As we clasp hands 'round the fire in communion silent, sweet. Getting ready for Thanksgiving raise the window cur- tain high That the lamp may be a beacon to the loved ones draw- ing nigh. CHRISTMAS While the Christmas bells are ringing out the message of good will, And the echoes fling the tidings over ev 'ry vale and hill ; While the Christmas star is shining with a radiance the game As it had that wondrous morning when the blessed Christ Child came ; When we raise our voices, singing songs of earnest, lov- ing praise For the joys that lie about us, making bright our earthly ways Let us give a thought to others who in joy have little part Till we've learned the blessed lesson keeping Christmas in the heart. KIDDIES SIX 125 Hark! Above the Christmas carols hear the children's plaintive cry; Hear the broken sobs of widows doomed by pestilence to die In the tenements so fetid; victims of inhuman greed; Slaughtered to the god of Mammon they for justice vainly plead. See the pallid little faces, hear them vainly beg for crumbs ; See the noisome hives of humans where no Christmas ever comes. You who have enough of blessing ne 'er can have a right- ful part In the real joys of Christmas till you've Christmas in the heart. While the Christmas bells are ringing out their messages so clear, Go ye out among your fellows, spread the gospel of good cheer. From some heart bowed down in sorrow lift the bitter load of woe; In some home [with gloom o'erahadowed spread 'the cheerful Christmas glow; To some child, some weeping widow, working out a wretched lot Take a share of Christmas blessing show them God has not forgot. Just divide your Christmas blessings, give unfortunates a part, And you'll double joys of Christmas keeping Christ- mas in the heart. 126 KIDDIES SIX THE REVERSE OF THE GOLDEN SHIELD (An Easter Morning Reverie) Along the chancel rail, and on the altar stair, The sweetest lilies give their fragrance to the air. The deep-toned organ swells, And vested choir in richest, fullest chord, Sings songs of praise unto the risen Lord. Each ringing anthem tells That from the dark and dismal earthly prison The King of Kings and Lord of Lords is risen. The nodding plumes on heads bowed down in prayer; The incense of sweet blossoms on the quiet air, The flashing gems and gold ; The soft and silken rustle, the content On every face for richest blessing sent On these within the fold All these amidst the Easter lilies' fragrant bloom Drives care away and light drives out the gloom. But what of those for whom no blooming lilies fair Shed richest fragrance on the Easter morning air? God's poor, to whom content Means but a crust, a rag for shiv'ring forms, A hovel as a home from all life's storms In filth-strewn tenement. Souls seared by sin because God's holy word As taught in yon great church is never heard. The children of the sweat-shop, starving, sunken-eyed? Was't not for such as these the Gentle Master died? Have they no place and part? Hopeless, soul-starved, with blank and tear-stained face, Have they, in all this Easter pomp and pride, no place? Can there be contrite heart Within the breast of one who 'midst the lilies kneels And for these little ones no touch of pity feels? KIDDIES SIX 127 The perfumed flowers upon your corsage white "Would mean to starving children food and clothes and light. Each diamond-studded ring Upon your hand, unmarked by toil or care, Would give a thousand children God's fresh air, And richest roses bring Back to their sunken cheeks. You think God ever hears The empty prayers above the children's falling tears? Loud ring the Easter bells; the solemn anthems rise Through nave and arch the while the child slave starves and dies Within their glorious sounds. Grim Death stalks 'round, with misery, want and woe To mark the path where Death walks sentry-go. ' ' The Lord is risen Love abounds ! ' ' But thousands of His loved ones of such the Kingdom they Starve, and within the shadow of His church today. EASY I bought my wife a meerschaum pipe And kept it hid away; Until I could hand it to her Upon last Christmas day. For me she bought a collarette A sealskin beauty, too. She hung it on the Christmas tree And said: "Dear, it's for you." That evening, when 'twas time to dine, We both sat down to sup, She with the pipe, I with the fur And traded, even up. 128 KIDDIES SIX THE FARMER PAYS IT ALL [Written for a Farmers' Union picnic held near Hen- nessey, Okla., and recited by Miss Bumps, daughter of Elmer Bumps, a prominent member of that organization.] We have heard in song and story of the heroes who win glory Fighting, dying, 'neath the old red, white and blue; And their memories we are praising and tall columns we are raising To the soldiers of the nation, tried and true. We have watched the corporations get a death grip on the nations, And we 've seen the giant trusts their coffers fill ; We have seen the king's financial pile up fortunes quite substantial And the farmers of the nation foot the bill. We have seen, as years were rolling, men the big trust kings extolling, We have seen the nation's bounds extended wide. We have heard that trade and barter to extend must have a starter, So a subsidy for ships must be applied. We have heard the railroad bosses say they're up against great losses If with water their great stocks they can not fill ; And a lot of men will swear if we complain about the tariff- But the farmers of the nation foot the bill. Day by day we toil and labor, scarcely seeing nearest neighbor, While the men who profit from our honest toil KIDDIES SIX 129 Live in ease and laughing gaily, watch us while we're toiling daily To bring forth the fruits of Nature from the soil. Don't you think, toiling brother, toiling wife and toil- ing mother, That it's time we stood a strong, united band? Don't you know that once united all our toil Will be requited, And that we would be the rulers of the land? Join our union ! Stand together in sunshine or stormy weather, Face to face, heart to heart, and hand to hand. All our mutual burdens bearing, all our daily blessings sharing, All for one and one for all, united stand. Hear the voice of Union calling; see the foe is backward falling ; Clouds of wrong are scattered by the rising sun. Armed with ballots ready, forward ! God Almighty hates a coward Do your duty and our battle will be won. THREE SINGERS When Lewis lilts his songs o' home, And Stanton lilts o' spring; When Griffin lilts o' days to come, I catch their rythmic swing. I catch the gleam o' window lights And smell the incense rare Of coming days adown the ways When I can raise my songs o' praise, With never doubt nor care. 130 KIDDIES SIX When Lewis sings his songs o' love My thoughts to homeward turn; I see the gleams of treasure trove Where love's bright altars burn. The laughter of fay children rings Like music on the air ; Far down the street the music sweet Bids tired feet make haste to meet The laughing loved ones there. When Stanton tunes his songs o' spring The incense laden breeze Makes all the bare, brown branches swing Upon the budding trees. And smoother grows life's road for me, And light my load of care ; While brighter beams the springtime gleams That wake the streams from ice-locked dreams, And joy beams everywhere. When Griffin sings o' days to come, When safe in port at last, My ship with load of joy is home. And sure kedge anchor cast, I see behind the clouds of toil The sun of rest shine bright ; I see the rays that light the ways Adown the days where life's road lays. And thank God all is right. When Lewis, Stanton, Griffin sing, I see dull care take rapid wing; And brighter grows the world for me While listening to this singing three. KIDDIES SIX 131 IN THE OLD DAYS Once more we've talked the old days o'er With craftsmen of the case ; Once more we've seen the old-time smile Upon each comrade's face. We've told the tales of bygone days, Of fortunes high and low, And sung about the Pirates bold Once more in old St. Joe. We've told again the old-time tales Of blind-end, rod and beam; We've gone again along the trails Once passed by hand or steam. We've talked of Busby, Dunbar, Lee, And all the Pirate crew Whose faults were always manifest Though hearts were ever true. Once more we've sung the old, old "Hail" To tell "the gang's all here." Once more we've heard the good old vows The printerman holds dear. And once again we've gathered faith That holds us staunch and true To all the principles laid down By good old I. T. U. And when the last take's off the hook, The last form locked and down; The last dupe cut and pasted up And smoothed the foreman's frown When all is done, God grant the gang Across the stream may ride And get a sit close by the throne Upon the regular side. 132 KIDDIES SIX IS IT WORTH WHILE? He worshipped golden idols and the shining dollar mark Lured him on through days of sunshine and through evening shadows dark. Piling millions his ambition, he reached out for golden store, And each dollar that he garnered made him reach and grab for more. Thousands toiled to make him profit, sweat to make him rich and great, Till he owned a fortune equal to the riches of a state. Then, worn out in chasing money, he laid down and quickly died, And he couldn't take it with him when he crossed the Great Divide. Friends of early days forgotten he for golden eagles chased, And the friendships men should covet were by greed for gain displaced. To broad acres rich and fertile he could read his title clear ; At his nod great rulers cowered and their subjects quaked with fear. "When he spoke the millions listened, for he ruled with golden sway, And he added to his millions ev'ry moment of the day. But at last Death sent its summons and cut down his golden pride, And he left his wealth behind him when he crossed the Great Divide. What is life if it be given to pursuit of yellow gold? Can a life that's ruled by money any of its joys behold! Friendship that is worth the having is not bought like merchandise, KIDDIES SIX 133 And the richest joys of living are not bound by golden ties. What shall profit him who gaineth fortune's greatest, richest goal If in gaming he doth forfeit through eternity his soul? Don't waste life in piling dollars till the light of love they hide, For you can not take them with you when you cross the Great Divide. OLD HOME WEEK "Old Home Week" in Missouri of course I am going home Back down to the days and the old time ways, and happy and free I'll roam Down through 01' Russell's pasture, and over by Kun- kel's mill, And back again through the shady lane to the old house on the hill. On the grass grown banks of the Tarkio, where oft in the past I strayed, Once more I'll lay in a lazy way neath the drooping willow's shade. I'll walk along the wide old street to the old school bouse below, While the deep-toned bell sweet tales will tell of the day of long ago. "Old Home Week" in Missouri, and all of us going back Back, girls and boys, to the old-time joys on th' old well- beaten track, Over the flower-strewn meadows, and down where the orchards sweep, 134 KIDDIES SIX And over the hills and down the rills where the soft cloud-shadows creep, When the twilight falls as the day is done I'll turn my eager feet To the litle cot and the garden plot, with their mem'ries sad and sweet. I'll pierce the gloom of the vanished years, I'll see each well-loved face In the twilight gloom of the sitting room in my boyhood's old home place. "Old Home Week" in Missouri, from the regions wide apart, From shops, and fields with their fertile yields, from busy and noisy mart, We are going back to the old home state, back to the paths flower-strewn, And the Mother State in her strong arms great will once more clasp her own. She calls to us o'er the distance wide we answer the loving cry We hurry back o'er the old home track, and ever as we draw nigh We shout the name of the old home state Missouri dear old Mizzou! We heard you call, and one and all, we're hurrying back to you! SOME RESOLUTIONS Goin' t' keep a smilin' as th' years go rollin' by, Coin' t' look for sun a shinin' back o' clouds that line th' sky; Goin' t' cut out grumblin' an' I ain't a goin' t' sigh, 'Cause there ain't no use a keepin' up a worry. KIDDIES SIX 135 Goin' t' do my duty daily an' trust God t' do th' rest; Goin' t' keep a lively hustle an' just' do my level best; Goin' t' tackle ev'ry duty with th' greatest kind o' zest, 'Cause there ain't no use a givin' way t' worry. Goin' t' sing a song o' joytime when I near my cottage door ; Goin' t' roll around with babies on th' little cottage floor; Goin' t' thank God for th' blessin's that upon me daily pour, 'Cause there ain't no use o' wastin' time in worry. Goin' t' face all kinds o' weather without airy sigh or fear; Goin' t' do my best to dry up ev'ry bitter fallin' tear, Goin' t' play th' ol' game squarely all around th' comin' year, 'Cause it never pays a feller for t' worry. Goin' t' bask within th' lovelight that's awaitin' me at home; Goin' t' say goodby t' troubles if around my path they roam; Goin' t' put my best foot forward an' my trust in king- dom come, 'Cause it's wastin' precious time t' fret an' worry. "DIXIE" Now they talk o' changin' "Dixie," And I hear th' ringin' notes Of th' ol' song through th' Southland From a hundred thousand throats. I can hear th' ol' words ringin', S-oundin' from bayou' t' sea "Dixie Land where I was born in" An' they're good enough for me. 136 KIDDIES SIX I can see th' ol' host marchin' While th' sunbeams dance an' play On th' battleflags an' guidons An' th' tattered suits o' gray. I can hear th' fife's thin shrillin' As old days come back to me "In Dixie land I'll take my stand" An' they're good enough for me. I can hear a band a playin' Way out past our picket line; Blue clad boys a makin' music Soundin' soft an' sweet an' fine. "Hail Columbia" comes a rollin' From the band an' quick's can be Back we send th' answer, "Dixie," An' it's good enough for me. I can see that gray host marchin' Fightin' done an' goin' home. But it's still a singin' "Dixie," Full o' hope for days to come. An' from ev'ry band in Northland Comes th' old tune, wild an' free "Away down south in Dixie " An' them old words just suit me. When th' old "Star Spangled Banner" Rings out on th' evenin' air, North an' South we come up standin'. Eyes upon "Old Glory" there. An' we've buried strife forever 'Neath that banner of th' free An' both North an' South sing " Dixie "- Good enough just let it be. KIDDIES SIX 137 Talk about a change in "Dixie!" Sonny, hand me that new gun One you had way down in Cuba Under that old flag. Which one ? Why, there ain't but one flag, sonny; Stars an' stripes flag of th' free An' beneath it I'll sing "Dixie" Old words, too they just suit me ! LIFE A little grief, and much of joy Marks every day. A wealth of love without alloy, Along life's way. A little toil, a little pain, The glint of sun, the welcome rain, And then comes night. A peaceful rest at set of sun, A welcome home when work is done, And life's all right. A time to meet, a time to part ; Friends come and go. Hand clasping hand, heart beats to heart, Comes joy, comes woe. The radiant light of clear blue skies, The welcome gleam in children's eyes, Make hearts grow light. A battle won for those loved best, And troubles faced with merry jest, And life's all right. 138 KIDDIES SIX LOCATING THE BLAME Each morn he perched before the bar And gulped his liquor down, And 'twixt each drink he'd say, "I think The fates upon me frown." He'd say Dame Fortune passed him by And made him good jobs lose ; He blamed each day that slipped away But he never blamed the booze. From off the cool, enticing stein He'd blow the creamy foam, And 'twixt each draught he cursed the "graft" That robbed the kids at home. "My kids in rags, my wife forlorn," He sighed 'midst many a tear "And I could name the trust to blame" But he never blamed the beer. "Here's to you, pal!" he would exclaim Some seven times an hour, And 'twixt each drink he'd say, "I think The trusts are sure in power. They rob our children of their grub, Their shoes are torn and thin; The trust's to blame for all our shame" But he never blamed the gin. "The trusts have got us by the throat," Full oft I've heard him say; "They reign in state while we must wait Their pleasure every day." He blamed them for his rotten luck, He blamed them low and high; With glass held tight he blamed them right But he never blamed the rye. KIDDIES SIX 139 At home his wife and little ones In hunger, rags and tears, Knew well the cause of all things was The bourbon, gin and beers. They knew just where to lay the blame For lack of food and shoes; For lack of clothes and hunger's woes- And they just blamed the booze. IN THE SHADOW OF THE MOUNTAINS In the shadow of the mountains whose uplifting peaks of gray Pierce the misty clouds that hover o'er the vista day by day; In each grim and rocky fastness where the purling waters leap And the sighing, cooling breezes lull the senses into sleep ; "Where eternal snows of winter decorate each rocky crest And the balmy scent of pine trees comes with magic healing blest In the shadow of the mountains whose gray peaks shall never nod, Pointing upward to the heavens like the sentinels of God. In the shadow of the mountains wrought in wonderful design By the deft and ready fingers of a master hand divine; Where each peak and crag and canyon, while the count- less ages roll, Tells to a man a wondrous story that shall glorify his soul; In the grim and rocky presence of these great Titanic walls 140 KIDDIES SIX AVhere the arms of nature welcome and the voice of na- ture calls In the shadow of the mountains whose gray leagues are yet untrod One can read creation's story in the handiwork of God. In the shadow of the mountains whose gray peaks are limned in gray And the cloud-drifts float and hurry like some giant folk at play; Where, while standing in the presence of a work so great and grand, Men can get a glimpse of power of the great Almighty's hand. And across his soul there stealeth, like the shadows o'er the peaks. Awe that stills him into silence while the Great Creator speaks In the shadow of the mountains, grim gray peaks that never nod, Man stands face to face in silence with the sentinels of God. LONGING I want to write for a daily that's honest, and square, and true; "Whose business office won't censor the news that is pass- ing through. A daily that turns its searchlight alike on the great and small ; That will not kowtow to riches, nor down in the gutter crawl. I want to write for a paper that isn 't allied with crime ; KIDDIES SIX 141 That isn't crammed with sensations, and murder, and filth, and slime. I want to report for a paper that isn't a bit afraid To use the clearest of English, and call every spade a spade. I want to see my name written upon the assignment book Of a paper that has vigor to camp on th' trail of a crook. No matter how high his station, no matter the price he bids, And put him in stripes like the poor cuss who steals the grub for his kids. I want to be a reporter on just such a daily as that A paper that isn't an "organ," and scorn to divvy the "fat." Under a chief who orders: "You chase out and gather the facts!" And gives us all assurance no corporate thug wields an ax. I want to work on a paper that hasn 't a single ' ' string ; ' ' That always stands for the people instead of some cor- porate thing. A sheet that tells advertisers it has no favors to sell If they don't like its position to take their ads straight to Gahenna! I want to be on a paper that has the courage to strike At every doer of evil to which all thieves look alike. A paper that helps the helpless; holds back the arm of the strong "Who seek to take toll of the children, or reap a harvest from wrong. I want a job on that daily; any assignment or "run;" 142 KIDDIES SIX And told to write things as I find them, proving my facts when done. To show up thieves in high places, as well as the thieves in low; To turn the light on big grafters, and give poor devils a show. I long to be on such a paper I dream of a time I am And given my orders to show up all manner of graft and sham. Not here on this earth may I find it it's my firmest belief 'Twill only be in heaven, with Gabriel Editor-in-Chief. WITHIN THE WEEK The drumhead is busted, the trumpet is battered, The wagon is crippled, the dishes are shattered. The Christmas tree's down and the bright decoration Is scattered and flung over all of creation. The dolly is headless, and poor Jumping Jack Is nursing in silence his poor broken back. The Mother Goose rhymes have been worn into pulp, And naught of the candy is left now to gulp. The candles have burned to a faint spot of grease, And over the house there is silence and peace. But what if the toys and the books are destroyed? Just think of the hours the children enjoyed The gay Christmas toys that were hung on the tree, Just think of the week full of infantile glee. It's enough to repay all the trouble and cost, For the joy that we gave them can never be lost. 'Twas a week of great gladness we'll never forget And we '11 do it next Christmas on that you can bet. KIDDIES SIX 143 "HANDS ACROSS THE BORDER" [Verses read at banquet tendered by Toronto Typo- graphical Union No. 90 to visiting printer delegates to American Federation of Labor convention, November 13.] O, it's hands across the border, and it's hands across the sea! "God Save the King" you're singing; we "My Country 'Tis of Thee." Blood is thicker e'er than water, and we know what friendship means For we've tried each other's mettle Lundy's Lane and Ne\v Orleans. So we clasp our hands like brothers as we press the for- ward track, While Old Glory waves and ripples by the side of Union Jack. O, it's hand across the border, and it's hands across the sea! For we've learned to know each other in our wars for liberty. And where'er you see those banners waving 'neath the vaulted dome Yo^ will always find true fighters for the cause of right and home. By the old Star Spangled Banner and the Red Cross of St. George We have welded stoutest friendships in the fires of Free- dom's forge. O, it's hands across the border, and it's hands across the sea! "Rule Britannia!" "Yankee Doodle!" "Home, Sweet Home" where'er we be. 144 KIDDIES SIX And we carry Freedom's banner 'round the girdle of the earth Till in ev'ry heart and conscience love of liberty has birth. So it's hands across the border, and it's hands across the sea, While "God Save the King" you're singing, we "My Country 'Tis of Thee." ALL RIGHT! "Waste of time to whimper when you see things going wrong ; For that's the time a fellow should be coming good and strong. And it's not wise to be sobbing if your plans cease going right That's the time to roll your sleeves up and proceed straightway to fight. Everything that's worth the winning is worth fighting for to get, And if you will keep on fighting you'll be happy yet, you bet. Every somber cloud that hovers has its silver lining bright So just keep a going, brother, confident that all is right. Rainy days may cause you trouble, but don't waste your time in sighs; Just recall the bow of promise God has set upon the skies. Meet reverses in your fortunes with a strong man's cheerful laugh KIDDIES SIX 145 And you'll find them shrink before you till they measure less than half. Only cowards sit repining when they fail to win the game; Only cowards try to shoulder on the world the weight of blame. Roll your sleeves up to your elbows, then pitch in with all your might With determination steady that you'll win out yet, all right. Don't you try to trouble trouble till old trouble troubles you, Then just face it fairly, squarely, and to trouble say, "Skidoo!" Don't fret over opposition kites must fly against the wind You will win out if on justice all your hopes are safely pinned. Do the duty lying nearest, and be sure you do your best, Yours is but to do your duty, God will take care of the rest. You may think success is often hidden far away from sight, But the doing brings the winning everything will come out right. JUNE TIME Singin' o' June, when the roses blow; Liltin' a song when the sun hangs low; Whistlin' away Through th' livelong day Singin' an' whistlin' a merry tune To the rosiest month of them all that's June. 146 KIDDIES SIX Watchin' the clouds as they hasten by, Catchin' the gleam of the bright blue sky; Lazyin' 'round On th' sun-kissed ground Hearin' th' wind through the woodland croon Her songs to the rarest of months that's June. Off through th' meadows cool an' sweet, Where th' violets bloom in their dim retreat; Dreamin' dreams By the purlin' streams, As they hasten by with their rythmic rune To the rosiest, fairest month that's June. Home at eve when the moon hangs low And the sky gleams bright with a silver glow; Just lazyin' there In the old arm chair A watchin' th' man who lives in th' moon And laughs at th ' fairest of months that 's June. OLD HOME DAY [Verses read at the "Old Home Day" celebration in Oregon, Mo., Tuesday, July 27, 1909.] From thy fold long since departed, wand 'ring far from sea to sea, Yet in all our far-flung journeys, back our hearts have turned to thee. Unto thee, O old home city, nestling 'twixt thy hills green-walled, And we hastened back to answer when the Old Home's voices called. KIDDIES SIX 147 Back to scenes of youth and playtime ; back to memories sublime, Throwing from our ageing shoulders burdens laid by passing time. As the child heart turns to mother, so our hearts turn unto thee When we hear your sweet tones calling, "Come, my children, back to me!" From the flower-decked prairies, from the busy market place, We have hurried at thy summons with glad smiles upon each face. Plow, and pen, and plane, and hammer for a time are given rest While we, tired and wand 'ring children, lay our heads upon thy breast. Old Home Day ! And all thy children gathered 'neath the old roof-tree, Singing songs of sweet home coming, paying homage unto thee. And the years are all forgotten, while the now fades into then Till we grown-up men and women are but boys and girls again. Hark! The old school bell is calling; grasp thy books and haste away; Laughing, singing, happy children; back again to yester- day. Memory sweeps aside Time's curtain, waves aloft her magic wand, And we trip o'er Russell's pasture, wander down to Kunkel's pond. 148 KIDDIES SIX Light of heart, care free and happy, once again we gaily go O'er the hills and through the valleys to the Big Tark's muddy flow. Through the hazel patch we wander, on beneath the wal- nut trees, While the echoes of our laughter freight the far-flung summer breeze. Home again! And all the strivings of the long years are forgot As we join in glad reunion 'round the Old Home 's sacred spot. Hand clasps hand, and friendly greeting bids the years' long cycle turn Back to other days where altars of our youth's fires brightly burn. Home again! scenes of playtime! Memories sweet of days long dead ! Back to thee, dear home city, gathered in thy arms outspread. And where'er the future calls us, over land or over sea, We shall hear thy loved voice calling, dear Old Oregon, to thee! OPPORTUNITY I'd like to hustle out and do some grand, heroic deed; Some daring deed that all the world would cheer. I'd like to fight a naval fight, or conquering army lead For truth and right till tyrants quaked with fear. I'd like to do great things like that and be a noted man, But as I can't, I'm not a going to cry. I'm going to keep on smiling, doing just the best I can To smooth the rougher places I pass by. KIDDIES SIX 149 I'd like to lead an army into some old king's domain Where people groan beneath a tyrant 's sway ; I 'd like to punch his blooming head and sever ev 'ry chain And make his people glad I came that way. But I know I'll never do it, for the job's too big for me, Though you can bet I'll not sit down and sigh. Perhaps some lonely brother sitting by the road I'll see, And I can cheer him up while passing by. I'd like to be commander of some modern battleships And sweep my country's foes from off the sea. I'd like to hear the plaudits from a grateful people's lips When I returned with news of victory. But what's the use of wishing? I'm a little undersize To tackle such a job, but I can try To lighten up the burden which upon my brother lies, And help him on a bit while passing by. The world is full of people who are waiting for a chance To do some wondrous deed to bring them fame. And while they're idly waiting with their minds locked in a trance They grumble that the world don't hear their name. I, too, would like the glory of some grand, heroic deed; But I'll not waste my time in idle sigh. Perhaps upon life's journey I will see a friend .in need, And I can help him some while passing by. THE CALL I'm weary of toiling and worry, Of living the strenuous life; I tire of the struggle and hurry, The tumult, the noise, and the strife. I long for a sight of the flowers, The song of the murmuring stream ; 150 KIDDIES SIX I long for the forests where hours Will pass like the woof of a dream. I'm weary of plotting and scheming That lay out the map of the game ; I'm tired of make-believe seeming That oft is mistaken for fame. I long for the lake and the river That shimmer and shine in the sun; Where leaves in the warm breezes quiver, And rest is the goal I have won. I'm weary of sepulchres whited That harbor but moldy old bones; I see childish toil unrequited And listen to widowhood 's moans. I long for the day to be dawning When right with the sceptre shall reign; When men now at Mammon's feet fawning Will rise in their manhood again. I'm weary of false prophets crying Their wicked, inscrutable lies ; While thousands of helpless are dying As Mammon's and Greed's sacrifice. I long for the day and the hour When Greed shall be flung from the throne; When man in his right and his power Again shall step into his own. I'm weary, but duty is calling, And only the sluggard will shirk; The tasks that are set appalling, But honor says simply, ' ' Go work ! ' ' I long for the woods in their beauty, But over the call that they give I hear the stern calling of duty That bids me be worthy to live. KIDDIES SIX 151 JOYS 0' WINTER When the corn is cribbed in safety and the ducks are flying high, And the dead leaves thickly falling tells us winter draw- eth nigh; When the snow-clouds gray and sombre fly athwart the autumn skies Then our mouths begin to water for the mince and pump- kin pies. "When the frost is on the pumpkin and the fodder's in the shock." It's a joy to hear the notice that it's half-past six o 'clock Six p. m., of course we're meaning and we rush to seize the prize, Juicy slabs of mother's pastry, good old mince and pump- kin pies. All the Frenchified concoctions on the high toned bill of fare We'll pass up in scorn and leave them to their glory lying there, For at home upon the table is a sight to please our eyes And our stomachs fat and juicy homemade mince and pumpkin pies. Old Lucullus, history tells us, ate the tongues of nightin- gales, But such food before ma's pastry into airy nothing pales. And I know that old Lucullus from his tomb would fain arise If he knew the joys abiding in those mince and pumpkin pies. 152 KIDDIES SIX Course the first, a slice of pumpkin; second course a slice of mince ; Third and fourth a repetition nothing better I've seen since. Breakfast, dinner, supper, 'tween times nothing better 'neath the skies Than these choicest gifts of winter, lucious mince and pumpkin pies. "When the mince is gently boiling and the oven's piping hot, When the piecrust is made ready and the pumpkin's in the pot; I prepare myself for feasting greatest joy before me lies In the shape of rich and juicy homemade mince and pumpkin pies. BEFORE AND AFTER Sometimes I'd like to seize my pen* And roundly roast my fellowmen; To roast 'em to the good queen's taste, And baste and turn, and turn and baste. I feel that if I don't turn loose And fairly cook some fellow's goose I'm not performing well my work, But rather am inclined to shirk. But just when I am feeling mean And start to thump this old machine, Some friend comes stalking in my den And lights it with a smile; and then He says : ' ' Hello ! " and " Howdy-do ! KIDDIES SIX 163 How's this old world a using you?" And then my grouch is gone from sight And I am feeling right, all right. Sometimes I feel that I am slack If I don't rip things up the back; That I should paw the air and rant, And race and roar and fairly pant In mighty effort to command A remedy for wrongs at hand. It seems to me I have a chance To make all evildoers dance. But just about that time I see A laughing baby on my knee. I feel a tiny hand's caress; The touch of dimpled cheeks that bless And then it's "Mr. Grouch goodbye!" For in another minute I Am quite content to sit and smile And leave the "roasts" for afterwhile. *Poet's license I use a typewriting machine. A PROBLEM WORTH WHILE He has tackled divers questions "With assurance great to view, From preserving our digestions, Up to how big game pursue. He has done work literary With an air of honest pride, And has writ in manner cheery All about race suicide. 154 KIDDIES SIX Of canals and arbitration, And of income taxes, too; Of the freight glut situation And the right course to pursue To make railroads come to center, Or to back up old Monroe To be brief he is a Mentor Knowing all that men can know. But he has his limitations Just like any other man. He can't solve some situations 'Cause no human mortal can. Vainly would he wilt his collar If he faced the problem great How to make a single dollar Feed and clothe a bunch of eight. BRACE UP! When you're feeling rather blue And the sledding's hard with you; When your schemes go up the spout And you're feeling down and out; When you've shot and scored a miss- Brace up and remember this : Those who win are those who try. So brace up and don't say die. Swell your chest and try again; Grit your teeth and smile at pain. Tackle trouble with a laugh And you'll cut the dose in half. Look the world square in the eye ; Buck the line and don't say die, Laying down is all the shame Sit straight up and play the game. KIDDIES SIX 155 Don't dodge trouble if you do It will doubly trouble you. Meet each task with grit and vim, Do the square thing, sink or swim. If you see hard luck draw nigh Laugh again and don't say die. Keep your face turned to the light, Do your best and you're all right. "SKIDDOO!" If trouble comes a snooping 'round And tries to harrow up your soul, Don't let it force you to the course Of seeking solace in the bowl. Don 't let it pass in through your door, But make it hike off down the road. Just whistle up and smile some more, And tell old Trouble to be blowed. Just say when Trouble comes in view; " 'Skiddoo,' That will be '23' For you!" If Mother Gossip calls to tell Some bit of scandal she has heard About a friend whom you love well, Don't listen to a single word. Don't let her winks and nods and grins And nasty hints lead you astray. The moment she her tale begins Just you rise up and gently say: ' ' I know my friend is straight and true 'Skiddoo!' That will be '23' For you!" 156 KIDDIES SIX When some man with a scheme for graft Begins to talk in dulcet style Of guarding this old nation's craft Safe from the reefs of greed and guile, Don't be deceived. In Ninety-six You heard that plea from men who stand Convicted of the meanest tricks That blot the history of our land. Just say, when such men come to view: " 'Skiddoo!' That will be '23' For you!" To greedy trusts and selfish men, To all who thrive on unjust laws; To greed, no matter where or when, And all who scorn the people's cause; To those who scatter tears of woe And rob the widow of her all, Give battle now, and boldly go To fight for right, to stand or fall. Speak out in tones sincere and true: " 'Skiddoo!' That will be '23' For you ! ' ' "MAKING GOOD" The fellow who hurries and worries and flurries, And rushes and gushes and rants ; Who chases and races through all public places, With eyes ever on the main chance, Will blunder, then wonder when he has gone under, Why he all the shocks never stood. But he failed, for he paled and he quivered and quailed, When it came to the test "Making good." KIDDIES SIX 157 The halter and trimmer may catch a faint glimmer Of smiles and of wiles of Dame Chance. In his dreaming and scheming may catch a faint gleaming, Of a goal that his eyes will entrance. But he pales and he quails, and his energy fails, And he couldn't win out if he would; For he sighs and he cries at the vanishing prize When it comes to the test "Making good." The fellow who's ready and sturdy and steady; "Who hustles and rustles and learns; Acts honestly, fairly, uprightly and squarely That fellow success quickly earns. Let him win it that minute he will be strictly in it, And meet every test as he should. He will work like a Turk, and a duty ne'er shirk, And go right ahead "Making good." THE MAN WHO MAKES THE STATE He had never gone through college, and his store of varied knowledge Was accumulated wholly by the hardest kind of knocks. He had never led cotillions and inherited no millions, . But he had to steer his vessel by some sharp financial rocks. In the world of stock inflation he had neither part nor station, And he never posed as champion of nation's honor bright. But each day it was his pleasure to contribute humble measure Of the honest toil which blesses and which keeps things moving right. 158 KIDDIES SIX In the world of huge stock jobbing, planned for purposes of robbing, He had neither part nor parcel, and he had no tariff graft. No press agents he kept writing, gifts to colleges in- dicting, To keep blazing his cognomen on some bronze or marble shaft. In coal oil and lubrication he had neither part nor sta- tion, And he never claimed trusteeship, like the sainted Mr. Baer. But each day, sunshine or raining, ev'ry energy was straining To treat ev'ry fellow being that he met upon the square. In his meek and humble station he had some participation In politics which stirred up quite a lot of heated strife. But he thought his thoughts and voted after each claim had been noted, And he acted as he thought best for the nation's better life. Press dispatches never touted, of his charity ne'er spouted, And among the swell "400" he had neither part nor place. But each day, no duty shirking, he put in at honest work- ing, And he ate his bread in comfort in the sweat upon his face. KIDDIES SIX 159 THE STRIKE Bill Simpkins wuz a worker, somewhere 's near 'bout 6 o'clock, Sittin' 'round the grocery fire, where he'd talk, and talk, and talk. 'Lowd that he could 'complish wonders 'ith th' cradle an' th plow, An' said maybe, if chance offered, he would surely show us how. But when asked to give a reason fur his lazy, shiftless ways 0' jus' never doin' nothin' but a wastin' ov his days, Bill would blink his eyes a minnit then would say as if surprised, "I'm a waitin', boys, on congress, f'r I must be subsi- dized. "What's the use o' takin' chances?" Bill would ask in anxious tones. "What's th' use o' wastin' muscle or a rackin' ov yer bones?" Then he'd settle back a grinnin' in th' ol' splint-bottomed chair, One hand reachin' out f'r crackers, tother mussin' up his hair. An' next day he'd keep a loafin' an' th' rest of us would sweat F'r th' clothes that we wuz wearin' an' th' little that we et. " 'Taint no use o' workin' that way," "William Simpkins he surmised; "Send pertitions down t' congress an' we'll all git sub- sidized." 160 KIDDIES SIX An' at last we got t' thinkin' that perhaps ol' Bill was right, An' we made up a committee f'r t' try an' furnish light On this thing that Bill had mentioned, an' it wasn't very long Till we found him right, by hector, an' th' rest ov us wuz wrong. An' we all just took t' loafin'; nary load o' grain we'd haul 'Cause we knowed it didn't pay us, an' we didn't work at all. An' we're goin' t' keep on loafin' till the country's para- lyzed Or our trusty old farm wagons, like th' ships, is sub- sidized. WHEN WASHINGTON WAS HERE When "Washington was president 'Twas evident That he was bent On something more than cent per cent A fact recalled with pride. But since the "Washingtonian day A different way Came into play To flourish like the flowers in May, And courts of law deride. They had no trust bituminous Or luminous, Consumin' us; They had no beef trust doomin' us "When "Washington was here. They had no trust in laundry soap, KIDDIES SIX 161 Or twine and rope, To crush all hope; They had no foodstuff full of dope In George's day and year. They had no trust in lead and steel, Or fancy wheel To make us squeal; They didn't "soak" the commonweal When Washington was here. They had no trust in anthracite, Electric light Or cotton white ; They had no courts to make wrong right In George's day and year. They had no trust to soak 'em good When buying wood Because it could; Such things they never would have stood When Washington was here. They had no big insurance rings A running things Their way, b'jings, No Hyde, or Schwab or Corey flings In George's day and year. They had no senate full of tools Obeying rules Like docile mules; No monied men were bribing schools When Washington was here. They had no giant trusts in hides, No free pass rides, No shoddy snides; No shipping trust to boom besides, In George's day and year. 162 KIDDIES SIX Some wondrous changes have been wrought Since Georgie fought And freedom brought To all mankind in speech and thought Which fact you can't deny. The trusts have got us in their grip, They smile and whip Us thigh and hip, And trust-made laws won't let us slip And yet you wonder why. THE BRIGHT SIDE Things a-lookin' rather blue? All the world a bit askew? Then, my friend, it's up to you Just to hustle out and do Something worth the while. Wipe the tears from out your eye ; Things will get worse if you cry; Seek the paths where roses lie ; There is every reason why You should wear a smile. Though the clouds are dark to view, Still behind the sky is blue, And the sun will soon shine through With his golden gleams on you If you work away. Though the day be dark and drear, What's the use to quake in fear? Wipe away that idle tear. Look to see the dawning clear Of a brighter day. KIDDIES SIX 163 Locked within their icy tomb Are the flowers of springtime's bloom; In good time they'll light the gloom, Scent the air with sweet perfume As you trudge along. Life is always what it's made, Why should you, then, be dismayed? Keep on going, unafraid, Every doubt can be allayed With a cheerful song. Keep on working with a will; Tackle e'en the steepest hill; Bid each doubt and fear be still And each day with duty fill Duty noble done. Try again if once you fail; At one ill-success don't rail; Bravely face life's fiercest gale; Don't sit down to weep and wail Thus success is won. THE STRIKING DIFFERENCE He struck for decent wages and was promptly thrown in jail When he gently smote a "scab" upon the head. And his union was berated and its principles assailed; It was called a place where anarchy is bred. Jam the fellow into prison ! Keep him there until he rots ! He disturbs the even tenor of our ways. He would form a trust in labor! Perish all such horrid thoughts-- Keep such anarchists in prison all their days! Call the troops and call the sheriff; 164 KIDDIES SIX Call the judge and get a writ! Show the common working devil He must keep his proper level- That 's it! He cornered wheat and doubled up the price on flour and bread, And saw starvation spread on ev'ry side. Hungry children cried for supper, want and misery were spread While he quickly garnered in the golden tide. Hail the great financial captain ! Hail the King of Golden Wheat ! Bow in honor to this wonder worker's mind. He has piled up added millions and his corner is complete ; As a plunger he 's the king pin of his kind. Bring the royal robes of purple, Let the dancing girls be brought. On him royal roses shower As a tribute to his power That's what! If in sheerest desperation he protects his little flock By the theft of but a single loaf of bread, Clasp the handcuffs tight upon him, thrust him in the prison dock; Fling the curses of the righteous at his head ! But if by manipulation he depletes the widow's store, If by cunning he can mint her tears of gold ; If he profits by the burdens he imposes on the poor We must hail him as a man of business bold. Thrust the small thief into prison! For the big thief praises sing! Workers, keep your proper station, Board of Trade men rule the nation Sure thing! KIDDIES SIX 165 HOMEWARD BOUND The fleet is sailing home again; it's crossed the Seven Seas; Old Glory from each battleship swings out upon the breeze. The stars have shown in ev'ry port, it's stripes of white and red Have lighted many a foreign port as round the world it sped. The nations of the earth have seen the flag we love the best The fleet has borne it round the world from out the Golden West. And now the ships that carried it are on the homeward tack; So three times three ! And once again the fleet is com- ing back. Our bands played "Dixie" in Japan, and "Hail Colum- bia," too. On China's shores they've played the strains of old "Red, White and Blue." "Hot Time" they played on India's shores, and on Egypt- ian sands "Star Spangled Banner's" glorious strains came ringing from the bands. Twas "Yankee Doodle" for John Bull he'd heard the strains before As shrilled from fife and rolled from drums above the cannon's roar. But now the fleet is come back across Atlantic's foam, And all the men sing while the bands are playing "Home, Sweet Home." The fleet is homeward bound again; the flag is coming back. 166 KIDDIES SIX The ships have circled round the earth; they're on the homeward tack. From Occident to Orient, wherever ships may ride, They've borne aloft Old Glory's folds, they've been our boast and pride. Brave Lawrence looks down from aloft' and watches ev'ry day; And Foote, and Jones, and Farragut they guard the homeward way. The old sea heroes watch the course across the raging main So three times three ! And then once more the fleet is home again! THE DAY AFTER "Licked to a frazzle!" But, say, What is the use of repining? Home at the close of the day Arms of our loved ones entwining. Out of the fret and the worry, Out of the din and the strife ; Out of the battle and worry Home and the joytime of life. Downed in the battle ! But, say, What is the profit in sorrow? Love is still lighting the way On to a glorious morrow. Out of the turmoil and fuming, Out of the worry and wiles, Love with its welcome is looming, Beckoning on with its smiles. KIDDIES SIX 167 Whipped to a standstill! But, say, Still there is joy in the losing If love binds the wounds of the fray After the battle's confusing. Out of the smoke and the rattle, After the heat of the fray; After the din of the battle, Love lights the close of the day. SMILE When you think life's not worth while, Sit straight up and force a smile. Smile, and shake your fist at fate Hit the line; don't hesitate. Smile and say, "World, howd'y do; Here's a-looking straight at you!" Shake yourself and force a smile. You'll see clear sky after while. When you meet a brother, smile ; Grasp his hand, walk double file. Smile, and say, "Hello, old chum; Cheer up; Don't be sad and glum!" Smile, and every time you do It pays interest to you. Waste of time salt tears to shed Smile, and keep on straight ahead. In the crowded market place Keep a glad smile on your face. Frown, and you give birth to doubt Next thing you'll be down and out. Smile, and say, "Things coming fine Only car load lots in mine!" Waste of time to sigh and sob Smile, and stick tight to the job. 168 KIDDIES SIX WINTER MORNINGS When the frost is on the fodder, And a tingle in the air; When the pumpkins have been gathered And the corn is shucked with care; When the grease is in the griddle And the batter's in the crock, Life's worth living winter mornings When you rise at 6 o'clock. When the cakes are on the griddle, And the syrup 's in the jug ; When the coffee has been settled, And the fire is warm and snug; When you smell the breakfast ready, And you hear the "get up" knock, There's a lot of joy in living, Though you rise at 6 o'clock. When the buckwheats reach the table, Mountain high and piping hot; When with syrup and with butter They glide to the proper spot; When you've eaten all you're able, Full of "bucks" your wife has sent, You can hike off to the office Full of grub and sweet content. Talk to me of pate de foi gras ! Talk of sauces, puddings, pies! Talk of table d'hote and cuisine Not from me they'll get a prize. Give to me the smoking buckwheats, Stacked up high and piping hot; Maple syrup, golden butter Ah, that hits the proper spot! KIDDIES SIX 169 DON'T WORRY When the sun is blazing hot, Don't worry! When the breezes bloweth not, Don't worry! Think how it affects the corn; Bumper crop, as sure's you're born Get up smiling every morn. Don 't worry ! When the iceman brings his bill, Don't worry! Keep your tongue and temper still. Don't worry! Pay his huge outrageous toll, For they've got you in a hole If not ice, then it's for coal Don't worry! Things look bad the country through? Don 't worry ! Can't help things by looking blue. Don 't worry ! Smile and just keep on your way, Things will work out right some day, So let nothing you dismay Don 't worry ! Every dark cloud in your sight Don't worry! Has a silver lining bright. Don't worry! Don't let trouble trouble you; Just refuse to fret and stew; To your own good sense prove true Don 't worry ! 170 KIDDIES SIX Hot, of course; but what of that? Don't worry! It will make the harvest fat. Don't worry! Toil today tomorrow rest ; Brace your nerves to stand each test, For whatever is, is best Don't worry! HERE'S HOPIN' The doctors down in Houston donned their antiseptic clothes, Sharpened up their knives and saws in proper style ; Held a smelly ether bottle right beneath Judd Lewis' nose, And projected 'round his insides for a while. First they carved out his appendix, then they sewed him up again, Then departed, leaving whiterobed nurses near. Now we're waiting, and a hopin' he will soon take up his pen And resume his work o' writing songs of cheer. An appendix is a Trifle that can cause a lot of woe. So with Judd's the doctors Tampered yesterday. And they say he's doing bully, and it tickles us to know That he'll soon be up and feelin' blythe and gay. For we miss his bubblin' humor, and we miss his lilting rhyme. And we're waitin' and a hopin' soon to hear That Judd Lewis has recovered and is puttin' in his time A "Tamperin' with Trifles" with good cheer. KIDDIES SIX 171 DON'T KNOCK You can't saw wood with a hammer, my son, Nor polish a marble with knocks; You'll not long deceive with great clamor, my son, Nor profit by throwing of rocks. You never can rise to the heights of success By pulling down others who've gained it By steadily working through storm and through stress They've buckled to work, not disdained it. You can't saw wood with a hammer, my son, Nor polish a diamond with bricks; The world soon tires of mere clamor, my son, And punctures the sharpest of tricks. You never can rise by mere envy or hate, Or growling at those who've succeeded By honestly toiling both early and late 'Tis workers, not shirkers, that's needed. You can't saw wood with a hammer, my son, Nor fasten bridge timbers with tacks; The world soon shuns a wind-jammer, my son; You can't build to last with mere wax. To win you must hustle with might and with main, And give recompense for your wages, For those who strive hardest deserve greatest gain True worth is the best of all gages. You can't saw wood with a hammer, my son, Nor write for the future in sand; The world asks more than mere clamor my son It's work of the brain and the hand. So labor away with a whistle and laugh, And scatter good cheer as you labor. Don't worry the world soon winnows out chaff It's the wheat that you sell to your neighbor. 172 KIDDIES SIX THE RICHEST GIFT ' ' What shall I give ? ' ' asked the angel, "The dwellers of earth to rejoice? Power to see through futurity 's veil ? Power to quiet tempestuous gale? Or might that makes right though justice shall fail And Error throttle Truth's voice?" "Nay, let it be sunshine," said one, "To tint with its splendor the sky; Giving its warmth to the dwellers of earth; Filling their souls with the essence of mirth; Plenty of sunshine of sorrow a dearth When sunshine forever is nigh." "Nay, let it be rain," said another, "For sorrow is every man's share. Sorrow for wrongs never righted by men ; Sorrow for wounds caused by deed, word or pen Sorrowing now for the deeds of the then Bearing a burden of care." "Nay, let it be both," spake another; "Mixture of sunshine and shower; Sunshine to lighten his pathway below; Raindrops to cause the rich harvests to grow; Teaching him praises on God to bestow For His 'omnipotent power." The last is the blessing bestowed Sunshine and rain each in season, Sunshine to drive away sorrow and gloom; Rain drops to swell the green buds into bloom ; Beacons of hope in the dark of the tomb, Pointing the future elysian. KIDDIES SIX 173 THE DISPATCHER They sing the sounding praises of the daring engineer With hand upon the throttle, keenly gazing straight ahead. They always hail him hero; say he's ignorant of fear; But he's only 'minding orders, and his signals, white or red. But the man who bears the burden is the man you never see Seated in a stuffy office far above the noisy street; Busy brain with figures buzzing, nimble fingers on the key, . And his eyes are never lifted from his long train-order sheet. And it's Nos. Four and Seven That must meet at Perkins' Switch; And the engineers plunge safely Through the darkness black as pitch. Nos. Two and Twenty-seven, Rushing onward like the wind, But the crews will mind their orders Safe the passengers behind. They praise the financial captains who have organized the lines Into mighty railroad systems over which vast treasure rolls ; Beaching factory towns and forests, climbing up to dis- tant mines; Stretching over plain and mountain, bringing in the golden tolls. But the men who keep trains running never pose for public gaze. Theirs to do amid the clatter that to them is music sweet 174 KIDDIES SIX Of the noisy sounders clearing all the long steel-girdled ways, As they bend to mark the figures on the long train- order sheet. Nos. Thirteen and Eleven Meet and pass at Bilikens' Bend. No. Two wait for the "flyer" Take the switch at New Rostend. Just a flimsy bit of paper, Words by the dispatcher sent; And the tourists in the coaches Rest in safety and content. The papers sing the praises of the managers who glide 'er the road in private coaches, looking worried, look- ing wise ; Giving interviews in plenty, filling local men with pride As they wave them recognition while the special on- ward flies. But the man who makes for safety of the magnate and his crew Is the man that the reporters seldom have a chance to meet. He's cooped up within his office, far removed from public view, Growing stooped, and gray, and wrinkled, over his train-order sheet. You must slow down at Cohasset; Weakened bridge reduce your speed. Keep control until you pass it. And the engineers give heed. Just one man you never see him Bears alone the mighty load; And his orders carry safely Millions o'er the busy road. KIDDIES SIX 175 ALL'S WELL! I'll face the music, come what may Great music or bitter sorrow ; The sun may hide its face today, But it will shine tomorrow. And if the road seems rough and long I'll make it smoother, brighter, By trudging on with smile and song To make my burden lighter. I'll face the music, come what may My heart with hope is throbbing. The work that faces me each day Can not be done by sobbing. Each daily stunt I'll do my best, My efforts best recording; Content that God will do the rest And care for the rewarding. TODAY Don't waste time in sighing For old days; Don't waste time in crying P^or old ways. Better days than yesterdays Leave no time for sorrow ; On them better fix your gaze- Today and tomorrow. Don't waste time in fretting For lost hours; Don't waste time regretting The lost flowers. 176 KIDDIES SIX Better hours are growing Than memory can borrow; Sweeter flowers are blowing Today and tomorrow. Don't waste time repining O'er bad days; Don't waste time declining The good ways. Smile and look around you, And new courage borrow. Better days surround you . Today and tomorrow. AFTERWHILE We are going to ' ' cut the mustard, ' ' Afterwhile. Likewise be ' ' all to the custard, ' ' Afterwhile. But today we're in poor fettle, So we'll let our feelings settle; But we're going to show our mettle Afterwhile. We will wipe out all injustice Afterwhile. We'll do lots of big things trust us Afterwhile. But today is full of pleasure And its golden hours we '11 treasure ; But we'll start on some great measure Afterwhile. KIDDIES SIX 177 It's the greatest country ever Afterwhile. And to reach it's our endeavor, Afterwhile. But today we'll spend in dreaming, Wasting hours of golden gleaming; And await a glad dawn's beaming Afterwhile. REVISED MOTHER GOOSE If all the world were water And all the water were ink, Would Wall Street be first To die of thirst? Perhaps but I don't think. There was a crooked man Who made a crooked deal, And amassed a crooked fortune In crooked iron and steel. He financed crooked politics And played it A to Z He's now a crooked senator, In Washington, D. C. Jack Sprat would fry the fat, The G. 0. P. would spend it. The tariff grafter Shook with laughter When victims would defend it. 178 KIDDIES SIX A MASCULINE ADMISSION What was it made what mother 'd bake Seem just right? And Echo, who makes no mistake, Said, "Appetite!" And what makes modern cooking taste So stale and raw? Then Echo spake with sudden haste, ' ' Dys pep si ah ! ' ' The "old oaken bucket that hung in the well" With germ-ridden moss was covered completely. 'Twas thirst from hard work in the unshaded dell That made the cool water within it taste sweetly. The sal'rateus biscuit with brown streaks in it, And yellow, and soggy, were a constant delight; 'Twas hunger from work every daylighted minute That gave us the joys of a keen appetite. The sparkling, clear water we draw from a pipe Is stale, tasteless stuff when thirst we're assuaging; Tis chewing tobacco, the meerchaum o'er ripe, And beer and such stuff, that our palates are aging. The light, flaky biscuits we now have to eat Are triumphs of art in the line gustatory. Alas and alack! With our stomach dead beat We have to fall back on that "like mother" story. Our wives can give both cards and spades To old-time cooks. The tripping phrase, "Like mother made," Sounds well in books. The fault is not that modern "eats" Are so degraded. Truth says: "Your taste, through beer and sweets, Is stale and jaded." KIDDIES SIX 179 AT THE GROCERY STORE Bill Smithers was a talkin' of th' plans an' policies Which Roosevelt is pushin' to bring Wall Street to its knees ; An' William, when he's started, slings th' language mighty free. "I tell you, boys," he shouted, "Teddy's just a suitin' me; Them Wall Street sharks he's hookin' an' a pullin' 'em to land, An' reducin' of their power in a way to beat th' band." But just then Tom Bobbins entered an' he says to Bill, says he : "Does Wall Street make objection to th' shippin' sub- sidy?" That stumped Bill for a minute, but he caught his breath an' said, While cuttin' some terb acker an' a waggin' of his head: "Th' president is trimmin' of them gamblin' fellers' claws, An' showin' them they're subject to th' country's rules an' laws; He's a callin' 'em to order, an' they have to walk th' chalk I tell you Ted's a wonder, an' they jump to hear him talk." And Bobbins, never smilin', looks at Bill an' says, says he : "Have you heard Wall Street objectin' to th' asset cur- rency ? ' ' Bill swallered his terbacker, but he comes back mighty game An' shouted that Tom Bobbins ought to feel a sense o' shame 180 KIDDIES SIX For ever intimatin' that th' president was wrong, An' then continued talkin' with an accent good an' strong : "The president is bustin' every trust that shows its head, An' Wall Street is objectin' 'cause it kills their gamb- lin' dead." Then Bobbins, with a chuckle, looks at Bill an' says, says he: "Have you heard Wall Street objectin' to his tariff policy?" Then Smithers rose a snortin' an' he said he wouldn't stay When Bobbins was insultin' Roosevelt in such a way. "He compelled them railroad fellers to give decent rail- road rates, An' he's got 'em goin' plenty on th' matter of rebates; Which th' same is mighty pleasin' to th' honest men I meet, But is mighty bitter p'ison to th' schemers in Wall Street." But Bobbins he was ready, an' he says to Bill, says he: "Have you heard Wall Street objectin' to his federal policy?" "You traitor!" Smithers shouted as he jumped straight up in air, But Bobbins wasn't flustered an' just titled back his chair, "You weary me," said Smithers, "with your narrow pol- itics, A fightin' 'stead of helpin' Roosevelt with your best licks. He's republican, is Teddy, an' th' best since Lincoln's day; That's the reason that you Bourbons won't give Theodore fair play." KIDDIES SIX 181 Then Bobbins shakes with laughin' an' he says to Bill, says he: "All them good things you have mentioned he got from democracy." NEW YEAR GREETING I wish a happy prosp'rous year To all my good friends, far and near; From California 'cross to Maine. From lakes to gulf, and back again; From north to south, from east to west, I wish for each of you the best The New Year has within its store All this I wish for you and more. I wish a year of joy and peace; From sorrow and from pain release ; For friends about on every side, And love's doors ever opened wide; Hope's full fruition day by day. And sunshine all along your way. And harbor safe when tempests roar All this I wish for you and more. For you I wish, instead of gold, That you may gracefully grow old; That each day's slowly setting sun Will see some duty nobly done. I wish that home ties stronger grow, That for you flowers bloom and blow, That God's rich blessings on you pour All this I wish for you and more. The best that's old, the best that's new All, all of these, I wish for you. 182 KIDDIES SIX MARCH Don 't you fret about the weather For the rain and sleet and snow Blowing down on hill and heather Make the May time roses blow. Rain today and blow tomorrow; Skies o'ercast with leaden gloom; Bid goodby to doubt and sorrow Soon the April buds will bloom. Seas of mud spread out before us, But the sun again will glow, Flowers will shed their perfume o'er us When May breezes softly blow. Dark today, tomorrow brighter; Gloom today, tomorrow's blue Of the skies will make hearts lighter When the crocuses peep through. APRIL The little buds begin to swell, The grass is showing green ; The unlocked rills are flowing on With rippling, silvery sheen. The chickens scratch my garden plot Despite the clod's I've flung, And by these signs I'm confident That spring's been sprung. The burning hoopskirt taints the air, The dust clouds sail on high ; And from some hiding place unknown Now comes the noisome fly. I've got to beat a lot of rugs KIDDIES SIX 183 Upon the clothesline hung, And by these signs I know full well That spring's been sprung. My better half has got a cloth Tied tight around her head ; The bedclothes and the furniture Are in the back yard spread. The meals she gets are mighty scant Although she knows I'm hung? Ry as a bear and thus, I know That spring's been sprung. LASSITUDE The Southern breezes softly sing Of gentle, dreamy, balmy spring; I can not write a single thing Worth while. I can but sit and idly gaze Across the green clad meadow ways To where the laughing brooklet plays, Each isle A little gem to catch the eye As murmuring waves go rippling by. A tinge of spring is in the air, A thousand songbirds now declare The coming flowers perfumed rare, And I- I can but sit and grind away At my machine day after day From early morn till twilight gray, And try To keep the old-time rhyming pace And fill about the same old space. 184 KIDDIES SIX This touch of springtime makes me feel I'd like to take my rod and reel And to the lake or river steal And fish. To feel again the keen delight Of humming reel and silk line tight As wary bass or trout took flight. I wish I did not have this space to fill, I'd skip out now and so I will. SONGS 0' CHEER What's the use o' weepin'? Better days are comin' soon. Don't be cryin', but be tryin' F'r t' lilt a merry tune. What's th' use o' moanin' If th' day is dark an' drear! Clouds don't matter they will scatter If you sing a song o' cheer. What's the use o' grumblin' If your plans go all awry? Keep on smilin' all th' while an' You will git there by an' by. What's th' use o' kickin' At your tough, untimely fate? On tomorrow shove your sorrow An' keep hustlin' while you wait. What's th' use o' cryin' 'Cause all days ain 't days o ' June ? Prick the bubble you call trouble An' strike up a merry tune. KIDDIES SIX 186 SMILE AND HUSTLE "When your plans go all awry, Smile and hustle. Not a bit of use to cry. Smile and hustle. Waste of time to fret and scold ; Brace, and get another hold; Meet the future brave and bold Smile and hustle. Some big scheme wound up in wreck? Smile and hustle. Bad luck smite you in the neck? Smile and hustle. Be a man among big men, Grab a hold and try again, Spit upon your hands, and then Smile and hustle. When a brave man hits the bumps Smile and hustle. Then is when he up and humps, Smile and hustle. Waste of time to weep and wail, Just forget that small word "fail," Don't moon 'round till you go stale Smile and hustle. Everybody has bad luck. Smile and hustle. That 's the time to show your pluck. Smile and hustle. Say, "Hard luck, goodby to you," Start off on a tack that's new, Keep straight on with purpose true, Smile and hustle. 186 KIDDIES SIX THE SINGER AND THE SONG The singer sang, his heart aflame With Freedom's holy light. He sang for love and not for fame ; His highest hope and dearest aim To hold aloft the right. Stilled was his pen ! His work complete, The singer sang no more. He thought his song with rythm sweet, With love for humankind replete, Lost in the mad world's roar. A song of hope and joy and cheer Set hearts to beating light. It banished sorrow's falling tear, Dispelled the clouds of doubt and fear, And all the world grew bright. Forgot the singer! But the song Still stirs the hearts of men. When bowed beneath the tyrant's wrong They sing it in a chorus strong And stand free men again. THE BANQUET I have heard in song and story of the man behind the gun, Of the man behind the plowshare and the pen. I have read of hero medals on the field of battle won, And of honors won by writing deeds of men. But I come to sing the praises of the man who makes a hit With the people who attend the banquet spread Of the witty, clever talker who well knows just when to quit, And who quits before his auditors are dead. KIDDIES SIX 187 I have heard of martial heroes in their panoplied array, And I love to hear their praises sweetly sung; But I'd rather hail the hero of the gustatory fray Who can realize just when to stop his tongue. It is easy to go whooping up the bullet-ridden slope With your comrades all a-whooping by your side But it's hard to stop the speaker who is full on lingual dope And keeps pouring out his talk in endless tide. We have had the nervous fidgets on occasions quite a score When the endless talker overworked his jaws ; We have sat and dumbly suffered while some double- winded bore Talked and talked without a sign of halt or pause. We have seen the weary feasters marching out in solid squads To escape the turgid flow of "eloquence;" But we've always had to suffer from the bore's linguistic wads That were merely endless words sans rhyme or sense. Here 's a health to banquet speakers who are wise on when to cease, And who quit when they have nothing more to say ; But the weary, dreary spouter may he know no rest or peace Till he comes to face the final judgment day. Then may he get nought but justice and this sentence I'd impose On the endless banquet talker's bullethead: "Through the ages you must listen to your drivel as it flows From the redhot phonographs around you spread. ' ' 188 KIDDIES SIX AGRICULTURAL In January how I love To dream of hoe and spade, And in my dreams to contemplate The garden I have made. In February how I plan Straight row and level bed, And dream of lettuce, peas and beans, And radishes so red. In March I walk around the lot And mark with care each place Where ev'ry vegetable will grow In meet and proper grace. In April I take up the tools And work till hands are sore Then buy my summer green goods at The corner grocery store. STILL A RUNNIN' 01' Satan tryin' t' git me, but I'm keepin' up my pace; Qwine t' keep a runnin' 'cause I gotter win th' race; An' I ain't no time to worry 'Cause I'm in a mighty hurry, An' oF Satan's right behin' me with a grin upon his face. 01' Satan gwine t' cotch me if I even hesitate, So I'm jumpin' like a rabbit at a mighty rapid rate. Heard ol' Satan say I'm due him, But I sw'ar I never knew him, An' I hustle moughty lively 'cause I gotter miss his date. Got my eyes on glory fas'ened an' I hurry on my way; Theology ain't pressin' for no argument today. KIDDIES SIX 189 Jus' keep runnin' while I'm prayin' 'Cause I hear ol' Satan sayin, That I'm owin' him a plenty an' I gotter stop an' pay. 'Cotch my breath an' keep a goin' right along to glory's goal; There's a prize that's worth th' winnin, ' an' it's my im- mortal soul. If I pause f r but a minute Then ol' Satan boun' t' win it Watch me go ol' Satan never gwine t' git me in a hole. Glory Hallelujer brother! I have cotched my breath ag'in! Hear my feet a pattin' glory as they run away from sin. Peter, fling dat gate wide open, F'r dis runner am a hopin' Dat he's gwine t' distance Satan an' a-crown o' glory win. ALWAYS I love to sing of the rolling sea (I live on the prairies wide.) I love to sing of the wild waves free (I never have seen the tide.) Of whitening sails and stormy gales (Gee! Haw! And the corn rows tall.) And long lee rails and wild sea tales (0, the dinner horn's sweet call.) I love to sing as the sun sails by The print shop 's redhot windows high. Yo, heave, 0! Blow, winds, blow! I sing of the sea and its life so free Though a blamed thing of it I do not know. 190 KIDDIES SIX I love to sing of the knights of old (My lance is an old stub pen.) I love to dream of their deeds so bold (Gadzooks! What a red hot den!) Of lance and shield and armour bright (A linen suit for me.) Of jousts and bouts for truth and right (Back to my den I flee.) I love to sing of the old crusades While hunting the ever welcome shades. Lance in rest ! Fight with zest ! I sing of knights and their brave old fights But I opine that these days are best. I love to sing of the "Boys in Blue" (A shirt waist suit for mine.) Brave boys of "deeds of daring do" (A home life suits me fine.) A clash of arms on the battlefield (Me for the quiet life.) Brave boys who will not ever yield (I flee from the storm and strife.) I love to sing of the battle's roar With smoke of cannons hanging o'er. Hip, Hooray ! Charge away! I sing of the brave men true and tried But safe in my den I think I'll stay. I love to sing of the harvest field (I don't know oats from wheat.) I love to sing of the fertile yield (Me for the soft old seat.) Of rippling grain when the cool winds blow (An electric fan in mine.) KIDDIES SIX 191 Of ripe grain nodding to and fro (In the evening long 'bout nine.) The reaper's music floating free So quickly stirs the soul of me. Click, clack, click! Is the measure quick. Tis sweet refrain from the ripened grain But here at my desk I think I'll stick. POOR MAN Poor man ! His life is full of woes As down the rugged path he goes. He rises at the break of day And starts off feeling blythe and gay, But e'er he's started on the morn He finds the cutworms in his corn, And in the fields of waving wheat He sees the chintz bugs gaily eat. A man comes tripping o 'er the clods And sells him miles of lightning rods, And with a pretty fountain pen He signs a little contract then In thirty days the bank says, "You Must pay your note ; it's long past due. 1 Or some smooth politician hies Upon the scene and gaily lies Until the man, deluded chump, Frames for himself another bump. At noon he tries to take his ease Beneath the shade of leafy trees. But just as he begins to nap An agent comes with county map 192 KIDDIES SIX Or books galore, for him to scan And pay for on installment plan. Then, ere he ope's his mouth to speak He's stuck a year two plunks a week. He sends to congress some smooth guy Who says the tariff is too high ; And while he dreams of sweet release The fellow votes for big increase. He studies hard to learn the facts About his state and county tax, Then votes to get some great relief And finds he's only added grief. He plans to take a little trip And all his chickens take the pip, Or cholera infests his hogs Or fleas attack his favorite dogs. He has a daughter and at last He gets her wedding day well past, And finds instead of losing one He's only gained another son. Poor man ! His life is full of ills And ipecac and dope and pills. His frame is choked with creaks and aches His course is full of foolish breaks. He grows up like a pumpkin vine And wilts down like a piece of twine. Poor man ! No matter how he jumps He's due to get some awful bumps. KIDDIES SIX 193 THE TEST Without doubt you've often noticed midst the ever busy throng Some man who had a story of hard luck that lasted long ; A man who had a grievance at the world and always whined Just because, with rush and bustle, it had left him far behind. Oft he tells his plaintive story of a fortune won and lost, And he wonders at his failure as he counts the bitter cost. And the more you listen to him it is easier to guess That the cause of his position is he couldn't stand suc- cess. There's a man who once was honored with a high official place, Who is now by all derided and condemned to deep dis- grace. When he took the oath of office he intended to be. square, Do his duty to the people in a manner upright, fair ; But his elevation dazed him and his power turned his brain And a sick, disgusted people wouldn't stand for him again. Now he says they are ungrateful, but it isn't hard to guess That the cause of his position is he couldn't stand suc- cess. Some of this world's greatest failures are the men who climbed up high, Who won fame and long attracted notice from the public eye, Then "fell down" the worst of failures, for they never understood That to win is not sufficient ; they must keep on ' ' making good." 194 KIDDIES SIX For the world is always watching and applies the strictest test, Which to meet a man must hustle and perform his very best. And the man who wins and loses, then emits howls of distress Stands before the world a "quitter" for he couldn't stand success. FISHING When the winds of May are blowing o 'er the fields abloom with flowers, And a dreamy feeling gets me during all my working hours When the rippling of the waters sounds like music soft and low, And I get the scent of blossoms winds are wafting to and fro, Then is when I want to gather all my troubles into one And forget it for a season want to seize my rod and run To the deep, primeval forest where old Nature's at her best. And the old reel's clicking music lulls me into perfect rest. When the boat is idly rocking on the waters cool and deep, And the shadows eastward turning o'er the water gently creep ; AVhen the soft winds sigh above me and the waters moan below, And Dame Nature paints her pictures with a tinge of sunset glow, Then I learn life's sweetest lessons as I listen there alone KIDDIES SIX 195 Sermons from the living waters, sermons writ on mossy stone, And the world's hard toil forgetting life takes on an added zest While the old reel's magic music lulls me into perfect rest. When the evening shadows gather and I row my boat ashore, And the summer moon is gently shedding silv 'ry radiance o'er All the world, and silence brooding bids me troubles to forsake As I lay outstretched and resting, half asleep and half awake ; And the wavelets gently lapping, and the rustling leaves of green Carry me unmeasured distance from the market's busy scene Then I sink away to slumber on Dame Nature's ample breast, And the old reel's dreamland music makes the slumber perfect rest. MY DESIRE I ask not wealth To pile in golden store. I ask but health That I may toil the more For those I love that I may give Them daily comfort while they live. I ask not fame To blazon 'round the earth. I hope my name 196 KIDDIES SIX Will stand for honest worth So that my children proudly wear The humble name their parents bear. I ask not place To wield official power. I ask for grace Upon me every hour So I may ample time employ To scatter smiles and hope and joy. I ask not length Of idle days to live. I ask for strength To help me gladly give A helping hand to those downcast Beside my way as I walk past. I ask not ease While others suffer loss I ask to seize And help them to bear the cross So they, too, stand erect a while And look about with face illumined with smile. I ask not days To spend in selfish gain. I ask but ways To banish grief and pain, So that at close of ev'ry day "He helped me on," some soul will say. I ask no prize That earth may hold in store. I ask mine eyes May see yon fairer shore ; That I may hear at life's descending sun The final verdict passed : ' ' Well done. ' ' INDEX Absence 55 At Eventide 23 A Shock 52 At the Ball Game 81 An Anniversary 93 All Right 144 All's Well 175 At the Grocery Store 179 April 182 Agricultural 188 Always 189 Before and After , 152 Brace Up 154 Bright Side, The 162 Banquet, The 186 Baby Blue Eyes 15 Bed Time 48 Baby's Shoes 49 Contents 39 Cheerupathist, The Ill Christmas 124 Dixie 135 Day After, The 166 Don't Worry 169 Don't Knock 171 Dispatcher, The 173 Denman Thompson 103 Dickey Boy 11 Dood Mornin'! 31 Day Dreams 33 Easy 127 Farmer Pays It All, The 128 Fifteen Years 102 From the Valley 7 For Me 10 Flat Owner's Fate, The 41 Fancies 69 Forty-four 96 Forty-five 98 198 KIDDIES SIX Forty-seven 100 Going Back 109 God Bless Him 113 Goiugh Out to Grandma's 45 Good Night; Sleep Tight! 22 Grandpa 104 Growing Up 17 Grief in Boyville 70 Home Again 44 Hello, Pop! 51 His Fate 58 Hello, Neighbor! 74 Hands Across the Border 143 Homeward Bound 165 Here's Hopin' : 170 In the Old Days 131 Is It Worth While 132 In the Shadow of the Mountains 139 June Time 145 Joys O' Winter 151 Just Money Enough 32 Joel Chandler Harris 63 John's Wealth .- 117 Life 137 Locating the Blame 138 Longing 40 Lassitude 183 Little Man 20 Lonely 24 Lookout Man 29 Lullaby 46 Louis and Ruth 54 Little Bill, To 57 Looking Backward 60 Let 'Em Ride 61 Lights 0' Home Like a Boy Again 90 March 182 My Vacation 118 KIDDIES SIX 199 Mistletoe, The : 119 My Part 113 Making Good 156 Man Who Makes the State 157 Masculine Admission, A 178 Mother's Work 83 My Prayer : 5 My Pa 27 My Children and 1 37 Meanest Man, The 43 My Wants 43 Memory -. 91 News From Home 107 Nod-a-Ville 40 Never Again 64 New Year Greeting 181 Old Songs 84 Ol' Man Armstead's Violin 80 One Who Was Not There 79 Off to School 50 Open Season, The . 67 Old Songs 75 Old Folks at Home 105 Old Home Day 146 Opportunity 148 Pictures 110 Pioneers, The 121 Problem Worth While, A 158 Poor Man . 191 Pay Day 65 Pessimist, The 68 Road to Yesterday 77 Richard Metcalfe Maupin 13 Relics 36 Road to Smileville 43 Reason, The 70 Real Music 120 Reverse of the Golden Shield, The 126 Richest Gift, The 126 200 KIDDIES SIX Still a Runnin' 138 Smile and Hustle 185 Some Resolutions 134 Skiddoo! 155 Striking Difference, The 163 Smile 167 Songs 0' Cheer 184 Santa Glaus' Books 34 Statistical 73 Today 112 Thanksgiving 123-89 Three Singers : 129 The Call : 149 The Strike 159 Today , 175 The Singer and the Song 186 To Her 82 The Baby 12 The Secret 14 The Youngest Boy 19 Two o' Mine 21 Three o' Mine 26 The Name 28 Two Weeks After 63 The Truant. 94 Under the Mistletoe 116 Vain Surmising 6 Vacation Time 62 Writin' Rhymes 95 Where Pleasure Is 9 Wonderful 15 Wanted, a Name 23 Writing at Home 47 What's the Use? 76 When My Ship Comes In 115 Within the Week 142 When Washington Was Here 160 Winter Mornings 163 Yoimg America 59 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY A 000 708 665 5