UC-NRLF Y ; ": : p s 3505 U34 D7 1910 MAIN i:\_- ^^ri-- --:^- : -^--\-i:^;-l-=-- LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. GIFT OF Class OF THE UNIVERSITY OF r? /Tx* * f i-> t U^ " DREAMS COME TRUE BY CHARLOTTE NATTINGER CUMMINS Copyright 1910 By CHARLOTTE NATTINGER CUMMINS i Dreams Come True KNOW that the songs I am bringing Were never writ by rule, ^ ^-> For I learned all my singing In the wild birds school. ft Q W f N S "7 We had no music-master, - Not even a fiddler s string; Twas the linnet I copied after: She taught me how to sing. She sang her song at evening With all a bird s glad thrill, While I, a child believing, Mimicked her at will. I learned to love the grasses And every flower that grew; There were no fads nor classes For me to cater to. I never longed for the city, Like some poor rhymers do; But kept on with my ditty My audience, birds I knew. I had my dreams of glory, Morning, noon and night; Many a wing for a story Was halted in its flight. Now beyond toil and fretting I ll bring my songs to you; With your love for a setting My dreams have all come true. Page seven 201302 M A Song of Father Y father was a quiet man, Built on the very noblest plan, His life to God s best meanings ran. His days were full of sweet content, He always said just what he meant And never owed a man a cent. No one went empty from his door, He always said, "God would send more. He loved to help where hearts were sore. We children loved to see him come, Our hearts with tender love were dumb When we would hear him coming home. Now memory lends her sweetest grace As this poor simple song I trace : For strangers sit in that dear place. The birds sing there just as of yore, The rosebush climbs about the door, But father s face we ll see no more. Page eight c Our Little Part ET us start a good thought going, It may reach a hungry one, It may light without our knowing, A work for God be done. Some glad song with good intended May be wafted to its goal; Some glad word where love is blended May help a stranded soul. Walls may crumble in the making, Cities moulder with their dead; But a thought that starts souls waking Will live when life has fled. It will live when we are sleeping Neath the daisies on the hill ; God the record will be keeping When our pulseless hands are still. Then let s keep on sowing, sowing, Doing our little part ; We must keep on throwing, throwing, Some day a seed may start. Page nine c Beggar and Painter OME out, come out, the wild birds said, The eastern sky was gold and red, The earth was putting on her best, A robin circling round her nest; While I, a beggar, with new eyes Gazed all enraptured at the skies, Unmindful when my feet struck sod, The soul of me was fed by God. I heard the birds in all their glee, They sang their carolings to me. What, though I had an empty purse, I d heard of things, oh, so much worse! Dishonor had not come to me; From all such sinning I was free. Even pangs of hunger passed me by When I could see God paint the sky. P a g- e ten w Motherhood HEN they brought the baby to me And held it for a kiss, How mother love thrilled through me, I said, "Thank God for this," The little tender clinging thing, Of my own life a part; I wondered how a child could bring Such joy to a mother s heart. The little tender clinging hands, That clung so to my own; While, mother-like, I made such plans When baby would be grown. The little nestling cheek of pink With its dear velvet touch Made me, a young wife, stop and think For motherhood meant much. Twas the happiest moment of my life I say it now with pride I had known both loves, of mother and wife, And I was satisfied. For a mother s heart is a wondrous thing, Thrilling at baby s cries; And that is why this tribute I bring All mine have flown to the skies. Page eleven I My Little Lover HAVE a little lover, He s as handsome as can be, My face with kisses he ll cover As he leans upon my knee. He tells me how he loves me Twenty times a day. Why, he even tries to hug me When his Pa s away. He smiles at me so fondly With his kindly eyes of blue, My life is never lonely He knows I love him, too. I never had a lover As fond and true as he. His love he cannot smother, He has so much for me. I want to keep him always, My little love so quaint. His head upon my lap he lays With a little sleepy plaint. He s now beside me kneeling, The little prayer s said, I smile with a thankful feeling When I get him tucked in bed. Page twelv A At Eventide T eventide the birds fly homeward, Back to the parent nest; So do I, like a weary bird, Long for those I love the best. Not for gilded palaces of art Or grand estate and place; But to a mother s waiting heart I long to see her face. Back to the little humble cot Where I first saw the light ; It is the dearest, choicest spot, She waits for me tonight. Back to that place beside her knee, The little prayer said; The same fond love she gave to me When she tucked me into bed. Back to the love that never failed, It was ever there to shine, And even when misfortune assailed She loved me, all the time. Back to the beautiful dreams of youth Let me in fancy stray ; Where life was a beautiful gleam of truth, Where mother taught me to pray. Page thirteen s A Glad California Day UNSHINE gilding mountain and plain, Blue sky hanging over, A twittering wild bird s glad refrain, Poppies, grass and clover. The drowsy hum of busy bees, The cattle homeward lowing; The blossoms falling from the trees Is this a Summer snowing? These are the things that make life glad Far from life s noisy center, With never a thought to sigh or be sad, Where only good can enter. This is the place to go and rest Leaving care behind you; Finding at last life s very best Where fashion cannot bind you. This is a glad California Day Perfect in its glory, Wooing from cares that make us gray, Back to Nature s story. Pag-e fourteen T True Joys forgive a wayward soul gone wrong, To help a weaker one grow strong, To do it all for love s sweet sake A very heaven of earth would make. To give some one a brighter day Because we happened to pass that way, To wipe the tear from Sorrow s eye These are true joys you can t deny. J A Little Thought UST a little song to bring you, Just a little word to say, Just a little joy to fling you, As I pass your way. Nothing very grand or airy, Not one bit of art ; Just my song a little cheery, Bubbling from my heart. UNIVERSITY OF Page fifteen T God s Pastures HE loving sky is just as blue If my poor heart does ache, And I must hold to what is true, Keep on for love s sweet sake. The dear sunshine is just as gold, It shines on me to bless ; And I must to God s promises hold And never love him less. Hold on, though heavy storms arise And winds of trouble blow; There is a place that storm defies Tis where God s pastures grow. w Trifles E can dream of wealth and power, Have money to buy what we please, But these little things, hour by hour, Put a dear heart at its ease: A kind word given with feeling, The clasp of a friend in need, The best in two hearts revealing, Is what we love, indeed. A kindly glance of sympathy, A word from an absent friend Brings true delight to you and me, With blessings to the end. Page sixteen I A Picture KNEW she was his mother When they came into the car, He hurried so to kiss her, For she had come so far. I knew she was his mother By his kind, protecting care, And the way he smiled above her Made a picture then and there. He wrapped her furs around her, With a lingering caress, So glad that he had found her On the " Overland Express." He was six feet tall and over, A stalwart sun-browned man, He wasn t ashamed of mother He taller grew, a span. It warmed my heart to thrilling, This love between the pair, And I found my eyes were filling At the picture they made there. Page seventeen A He Takes the Best BEAUTIFUL life has passed away, A dear loved one has gone. The angels would not let her stay Here, where all hearts she won. For all of us she had such love A large place it would fill. They needed her in Heaven above To make it more Heavenly still. 1 She lived but to make others glad, In her heart there was no guile; She ever gave the best she had, Made us happy all the while. She loved life, and everything With a love beyond compare, To every heart she seemed to bring Just what was needed there. It was so easy to love her This dear unselfish one, In Heaven they will discover The stars her crown has won. We cannot understand God s ways, We go at His behest, He leads us through such sad dark days And takes the very best. In Memoriam Lizzie Descalso. Page eighteen o One By One NE by one the cords are broken, One by one the dear ones gone; One by one the good-byes spoken, Not one left of my own. One by one the burdens falling, One by one cares passed away, Hark ! I hear their voices calling, "Go now, child, and work today." Though the work I meet be humble, Though it be a narrow field, Trusting God I will not stumble He can send abundant yield. He can help my message brighten Some hard life, to cheer and bless, So that somewhere it may lighten Some dear soul in its distress. He can bless the simple story, He can guide a song s glad way, He can crown with His bright glory All my little leaves of bay. Page nineteen o Mother s Faith H, for the faith my mother had, As firm and true and strong, The faith that made us children glad Each day a trusting song. The trusting faith that first was mine Beside her dear, dear knee, Come near tonight, and round me shine Let me its radiance see. Come near with all the same glad ways That time can ne er dispel; Give me the faith of mother s days The trust she knew so well. For life is hard and days are long Without her sheltering care, And that is why I sing this song. Let me her faith still share. Page twenty Outgrown T HE rest that comes at evening When the day is at its close, And the heart forgets its grieving; Where there s none but God that knows. When the toils and cares are ended, For a little while at least, And the past in silence blended Lingers like a loving guest. Then we feel the magic glory Of a hope that s all our own, While our hearts thrill with the story Of a dream we ve half outgrown. w Say Something Kind I HEN speaking of your neighbor Try to say something kind; Give your words a loving flavor As they come from your mind. We have enough of sorrow To fight against at best; Then from some good thought borrow The glow that leaves a rest. If we would always do this We d soon have Heaven here, We d find what worthy living is And have no end of cheer. Page twenty-one The Linnet; In the Mountains Y OU may prize a dear canary Singing in a gilded cage, But it takes a linnet cheery, To all my song engage. She was such a wee, wee singer, She took me by surprise; The joy of life was in her, She caught it from the skies. We crossed the hills together On many a pleasant day, And I d often wonder whether That bird designed to stay. She d sing and chirp at my table When I was making pies; Don t tell me "love s a fable;" It lives when all else dies. And the wild bees caught the glory Of that glad summer time, Buzzing the old, old story Of Love, the theme divine. Our songs made us acquainted, We knew each other well; But the time she slipped off and mated, She wouldn t even tell. When she came to the door with her birdlings Her absence I understood. Twas a lesson for busy worldlings That bird with her little brood. Page twenty-two The Linnet continued I was thrilled with a gladsome feeling I never had before, That mother her love revealing Outside my kitchen door. She stood there with the little things As proud as she could be; The feathers sprouting on their wings The dear little linnets three. I threw them crumbs from the table, They grew so very tame ; But, oh my! what a babble As soon as daylight came. O, many an hour of laughter I ve had with those dear things When they d fly up to the rafter To try their tender wings. My days were brighter, better, Up in the mountains there, For that dear bird, God bless her! Would sing away my care. I d love to live it over, Feel all the same glad thrills I felt for that singing rover In the dear California hills. Pag-e twenty-three W In Memoriam to G. W. C. Co. E. 104th Reg. III. Volunteers E laid him out in coat of blue, Hands folded on his breast; The truest heart I ever knew, And now he s gone to rest. Gone where peace and hope abound, Where joys eternal reign; I know his rightful place he s found, I know he s passed all pain. With palsied foot and deafened ear No more he ll pause and wait, For loving angels will be near To help at Heaven s gate. I know that in the Father s sight His record will be clear, For it was always his delight With mates his mite to share. His heart was ever good and true, And he was always kind; The One who all his weakness knew Will palms of victory find. Page twenty-four H New Songs To Bring OUSEHOLD dears were many then When I worked and cared for them, Just like blossoms on a stem. They were dear and sweet and good, Loving mother as they should, Such a happy little brood. Ah, those early years of bliss! How I love to think of this, Children scrambling for a kiss. My nest still is on the bough But tis empty, empty now, Silver threads are on my brow. All my birds have taken wing, I m too old, my dear, to sing. They will have new songs to bring When they come home in the spring. Page twenty-five T Mothers HIS world is full of mothers They are not hard to find Who are living their lives for others, Loving, thoughtful and kind. Their names are not heralded afar Upon the scroll of fame, They plod away on this little star The love in their hearts aflame. Their happiness in the world of home, Their children call them "blest;" They never have a call to roam, They love the hearthstone best. I look at these homes on the hillside, Every one a shrine, My heart thrills with a gladsome pride, For one of these mothers is mine. Page twenty-six O A Tribute to Sorrow H, Sorrow, with thy grief and tears Don t leave me now, I pray, For thou hast been my friend for years I want thee still to stay. Thou hast been here through storm and stress, Through battles fierce and long; And now I love thee more, not less, For thee I sing this song. For thou hast taught me many things In thy dear ministry, Taught me whence all helping springs My Father s face to see. I know that my Redeemer lives, Thou hast shown me the way, How from His heart of love He gives His peace to crown the day. He guides the swallow in its flight, Why should He not guide me? Am I not greater in His sight Than it could ever be? I m glad I know my Father s voice, It echoes down the years. He s saying now, rejoice, rejoice! Child, smile amid your tears. Page twenty-seven ^.- Of 1 THE UNIVERSITY A Little Word of Praise A H, nothing such big interest pays, I don t care what you say, As once in a while a word of praise As we go down life s way. If you ve a little wife at home, She may have the queerest ways, But don t forget it, when you come To bring a word of praise. The boy who studies hard at school, Altho he often plays, Oh, don t forget to keep this rule, Give him a word of praise. There s not a soul on this green earth But longs for love that stays ; It shows us what this life is worth When we hear a word of praise. Don t keep it bottled on a shelf, When it such interest pays, I own I love it well myself A little word of praise. Page twenty-eight G Old Loves IVE me the prairies broad and wide, The touch of a free, glad breeze ; The waving grass where I used to hide, No joys were quite like these. The hazy clouds that stretch away, A cooing dove s sad tone, The laugh and shout of a happy day, The joys we all have known. The old orchard, where the fairies Came with their blossom chain ; Oh, give me the glad prairies, Would I were there again. The rippling swing of the growing corn Made music enough for me, Where oft I wandered at early, morn This beauty to hear and see. Where the first song of the meadow-lark Was sung for me alone, And all the meadows were one great park, I joyed to be alone. Where strawberries grew in the same old place, Almost hidden from sight ; The winding paths for our bare-foot race, Where dust w r as our delight. The bird s nest hid in the waving grass, The old bird flying out; No matter how slyly we would pass, She knew we were about. Page twenty- nine Old Continued Dear mother in her cap of lace, Her smile of welcome sweet, She d make a home of any place, Her love made life complete. The little prayer at bedtime Repeated at her knee, Has left its glory, for my rhyme And brought my work to me. The faith and hope she taught us then Runs like a gleam along, And even now it guides my pen And makes my thought a song. This fond home-thought I cherish well, "Old Loves" my heart entwine, And lingering memory loves to tell My mother s God is mine. Page thirty E The Old Farm Gate ONESOME and sad it swings in the breeze, Rocked by the wind that blows through the trees ; Many the children that swung on its side, Gone now the faces that loved so to hide. Rusty the hinges and moss-grown the post That once daily welcomed neighbor and host While memory is busy, impatient of fate, The breezes are swinging the old farm gate. Visions of daisies and buttercups, too, Wreaths made of clover we picked in the dew, To hang on the gate, as it opened, you know, While father drove through with the load in the glow, As up o er the manger we climbed to the mow. (Ah! nothing but memory comes to me now.) We ll fill it with blossoms before it s too late, The treasured old relic, the old farm gate. Often we children all mounted on top, Watched as we listened for Dobbin s old trot, While mother so softly would smile on us there With blessings unspoken, that filled all the air; Then Dobbin s old face we d spy down the lane, And father would laugh, for he knew we would gain, As up we would scamper to meet him in state, All eager to open the old farm gate. Though years have passed on, it swings there yet ; I love that old gate, and cannot forget, And I often look back with moistened eye To the dear old days that are long gone by, And memory comes with her tender sheen Like rifts of gold in the darkness seen. With new-born hope I watch and wait, For the dear old faces at Heaven s gate. Page thirty-one The Woman With the Woe P ATIENT she works from day to day, Her heart bowed down with care, With scarcely a place to lay her head, Or a decent dress to wear. Children, perhaps, depending on her, Looking to her for bread, The burden of life upon her, The rascally husband fled. This picture I ve made is a true one, Not one of us dare ignore ; The story is one that s never done, We see them today by the score. Leaving the wife with the burden, The question of life to solve, Ah, she is left to struggle then, As mothers will, who love. Talk of a woman s weakness, She is not weak at all ; See her there in her sweetness, Working for children small. With one foot on the cradle, she Keeps hunger from the door, Brave as a mother she will be Though her heart be ever so sore. Such stand at the helm of the nation Toiling from day to day Calm keepers of poverty s station, Keeping the wolf at bay. Page thirty-two When It Comes Thanksgiving i M going to grandma s, across the bay, To stay till after Thanksgiving Day; They live up there on the mountain side, Where all day long the roses ride. The dear little birds are ever so tame, They fly right up to the window-pane; And oh! the pie my grandma makes As soon as you touch the crust it breaks. She has apples and nuts up in the loft, She sleeps on a feather bed my, it s soft! And she tucks the covers around me so She don t leave a bit of room to grow. Her hair is white, and she wears a cap ; Sometimes she stops to take a nap When she is tired, as she often is Then I creep up and steal a kiss. She says I look just like Pa did When he was a little romping kid ; Then, somehow, a tear comes in her eye, While I shyly whisper, "You got any pie? One day I went into her house As quiet and still as any mouse, I couldn t find grandma anywhere I began to think she wasn t there When suddenly I heard her say, "God bless and keep him every day." And then I knew that she meant me She was on her knees in the buttery. P a g e thirty-three B When It Comes Thanksgiving continued I tell you what, it touched me then To hear her praying for me, when She thought I didn t hear or know, I slipped out again on tiptoe. Now, do you wonder I love her, Such a dear, darling grandmother One who tells God all about you, And loves you, whate er you do? I pity the boy who has no grandma, Nor fun-loving, tender old grandpa; They miss half the fun o living, Especially when it comes Thanksgiving. Better Things ETTER some dust on the pane, Better a kind word spoken, Better, far better than dust on the brain, Or a promise rudely broken. Better to give the living now A flower in their sorrow, Better than placing it on death s brow At the funeral tomorrow. Better a crust where love is king Than a feast where there is hate; For peace is the dearest, brightest thing That comes where true hearts wait. Better to help with the heavy load The traveler by your side, Than to ride indifferent down the road Wrapped up in selfish pride. Pagre thirty-four c Paint Me a Picture OME, paint me a picture, will you, To hang on memory s wall? And make it glow with colors true, As the shadows rise and fall. Come, paint it in colors golden, Mid sprigs of blossoming vine, That thrill as we wait to behold them Like waves of glory shine. *b Come, paint my sainted mother With the same old tender smile, The beautiful sky above her, The meadow-grass and the stile. Put me in the picture, too, sir, A barefooted boy of ten, As watching the glory about her, The beauty came to me then. Yes, she sat on the stile twas broken And I beside her, too, While the love beneath us, unspoken, Thrilled my heart through and through. Oh ! don t forget the sunset, In the hallowed Sabbath glow Show the bands of silver where they met O er her brow as pure as snow, And the look of love and waiting, As she drinks the beauty in, While the Sabbath chimes are waking Thoughts tuned to Christ, her King. Page thirty-five Paint Me a Picture continued And the raptured love and devotion Upon her upturned face Just put in more emotion, And give that curve a trace. Just mingle the blue with the gold, sir, Where the lengthening shadows meet, While the summer breezes gently stir The grasses about her feet. There, now, the picture s completed; I feel the holy hush, For my hungry heart has feasted On scenes I love so much. T The Kind of Love That Stays WO hearts, both true to each other, Life full of happy days, A devoted father and mother, The kind of love that stays. Two lives keeping step together, Beautiful in God s sight, No matter how fares the weather Their love a stream of delight. Two minds expanding and growing In peace to always abide, No other joy on earth knowing Only to be side by side. Two starting out with God s blessing, Two hearts beating as one, Two lives, true love possessing Till all life s journey s done. Page thirty-six E Little Boy Mine ITTLE boy mine, with your eyes of blue, Come kiss me again, as you used to do ; Come press your tender cheek to mine, Let the old love-light around me shine Like the sunlit glory of early morn Circling a tree storm-beaten and worn. Little boy mine, with your winsome ways That haunt me, haunt me nights and days, I have waited so long in the twilight here For the sound of your footsteps coming near ; And all day long I ve scanned the lane For the boy I love to come again. Little boy mine, long years ago You left me (ah, I loved you so!) And wandered away to lands unknown. Perhaps my love you have outgrown; But, oh, my boy, if you know my heart, Nothing a mother s love can part! Little boy mine, I am growing old; The years of my life will soon be told. Oh, will you not come to cheer my life? I have grown so weary in the strife, And smooth the way for my tired feet You can make my closing days so sweet ! P a g e t h i r t y - s e v e n Little Boy Mine continued Little boy mine, you have older grown Tis long since you from the nest have flown; Though another calls you "all her joy," Just come once more, my boy, my boy, And hold me to your heart again! I know twill ease this ache and pain. Little boy mine, shall I plead in vain? Will he ever come, on boat or train? Hark ! that must be his step I hear That tone s familiar to my ear. I have not prayed in vain for this, My boy is here, I feel his kiss. Though the way grows dark as Heaven draws near, I can see my boy, I know he s here; Though his face is bronzed, and bearded, too, I can see the love-light shining through, And the same old look in the loving eyes That will go with me to Paradise. Page thirty-eight T Which Was the Bravest? ODAY we carried the sweet spring flowers To cover our noble dead, While softly o er these hearts of ours A touch of Heaven was shed. Our thoughts went back to that sad time When war was in the air, When thoughts of Mason s and Dixon s line Brought fear to maidens fair. When men were drafted right and left All over this fair land; When women s hearts were sore bereft To "March" was the command. Methinks I see before me now A young wife brave and good She said, "John, you must leave the plow, I d go, too, if I could." He loved her well, his country, too, And said, "What will you do?" She answered, "God will help me through, Our country now needs you." His name enrolled among the brave He donned the coat of blue. He said he d die his Land to save, To Columbia he d be true. The good wife smiled and said, "God speed, And watched him march away While she had scarcely bread to feed Her children through the day. ge thirty- nine Which Was the Bravest? But she kept up a brave, true heart All through the cruel war; She washed and worked tho the tears would start. And trusted God the more. While on the Lord her burdens laid Her hands were rough and brown She said, "The shot was never made To strike her husband down." While mothers and sisters wailed with grief, She calmly read of the dying; In her work and children she found relief While the months and years were flying. And John came home without a scratch, Just as she said he would, And love and happiness lifted the latch; The future held but good. Though today her hair is white as snow Her smile is just as sweet As when she told her all to go The rebel foes to meet. Grandchildren hang about her knee And older ones kiss her cheek, And we are all so glad to see How God can bless and keep. And the question softly comes to me As I end this simple rhyme: Which of the two will hero be When the bells of Heaven chime? Page forty I Written for Me WAS tired and weary of living, So heavy had grown my load; Rebellious, too, in my grieving, No beauty around me glowed. My heart ached nigh to breaking, I chafed beneath the rod; While doubt and grief were slowly taking My faith away from God. When I picked up an old torn paper, Yellow and dim with age, I halted a moment from labor To glance at the corner page. And there I found a few verses That touched my stubborn heart, About trouble and life s reverses; I felt the teardrops start. The writer had known earth s losses, Had felt the touch of woe ; But she sang in the midst of crosses, " Suffering makes me grow." I read it over and over, My load began to lift, While a light that was like no other Fell on me like a rift. And I smiled serene at the baby As she stood beside my knee : Mentally thanking the lady Who had written those words for me. Page forty-one H Where Love Was True OW I love to dream them over The glad years of the past ; When we were home with mother Where love lived till the last. When we were wee, wee children, And hung about her knee; How many times she told us then To choose good company. She was just the dearest mother That ever childhood knew; She taught us to love each other And to ourselves be true. I can hear her voice at evening Calling softly up the stairs : 1 Now girls, do be forgiving, Don t forget to say your prayers." No beggar ever long halted Or knocked at mother s door, But she gave him bread, twas salted From out her humble store. She loved the God she believed in, And we all loved Him, too ; She made the home we lived in The place "where love was true." Page forty-two o A Woman s Way THE din of pots and kettles, The rush of the hurrying broom, The clatter of saucepans and griddles I m sick of the homely tune! It s rise in the morning at five To hurry a breakfast for six, Thankful that I m alive And able the bread to mix. Then put up lunches snug and fast For father and Ned and Bill; Then the little ones clamor for breakfast, Three little stomachs to fill. I d like to glance at the paper, But I haven t a moment s time, Not even to chat with a neighbor Or to read the latest rhyme. I often feel so weary I d like to close my eyes, Then I look at my babies cheery, And crush the thoughts that rise. So thankful that I m given Those little ones to guide, To train their feet for Heaven, At home here, by my side. Page forty-three A Woman s Way I must count the blessings falling Around me all the time, Then the pots and kettles in calling Will sing a merrier chime. I feel I have a kingdom Right by me, here at home : May I be bright to welcome them When home from school they come. May I ever have the patient grace That comes from the Father above, And show them by my happy face The keynote of life is love. A Little Sermon on Temperance i M a moderate drinker," he said, As he passed the drunkard s side. "To be like him I d rather be dead." The distance between them was wide. But time went on and the habit grew On the moderate man of pride, Till at last it was all that he could do From friends the truth to hide. And soon the monster had him down, Body, soul and strength and will; He was the biggest drunkard in town Slain by the worm of the still. Page forty-four E The Borrowing Browns VER hear of the borrowing Browns? Their girls who wear such lavish gowns; They put on style enough to kill, And one of them s after my boy Bill. What would he do with such a wife? She d be the torment of his life, Spending far more than he could earn; The money in her hands would burn. But this is not what I want to say, From my first thought I ve gone astray ; About their borrowing I want to tell, If they don t quit we ll have to sell. One day it s coffee and tea and spice, The next it s sugar and starch and rice, A bar of soap with a pinch of blue, A bit of salt to put in the stew. They borrowed my scissors and broke the blade, And now they are using my brand new spade. I wonder what they will borrow next? It s enough to make a preacher vexed. Their pantry s as empty as can be, And when they run short they send to me; I ve grown so tired of keeping it up I d like to smash their old teacup. Page forty-fiv The Borrowing Browns c They send for the paper before we re through, And sometimes I let them have it, too. When father comes to his easychair His favorite paper is not there. But when they came to borrow my hat I said, "No, no!" the cheek of that! The climax was the fine-tooth comb, Now to these Browns "I m not at home." F A Poet s Consolation iRMER JONES may own the land, What is that to me? I can see from where I stand More, perhaps, than he. He may have a house and barn Built on the latest plan; But I can see a verse or yarn In things he never can. He may drive in his coach and four Along the country road; But I know I enjoy life more, And carry less of a load. I can hear the wild birds sing Up and down life s lane. I find some joy in everything Even in this refrain. Pag-e forty-six s Poor Little Sue HE was the brightest pupil there, She always knew the rule, She only had one dress to wear, And that she wore to school. On Saturdays she d wash it clean, And wear her petticoat, She washing, sandwiched in between Some collars for her throat. Her dress was a blue calico, It cost "two bits" a yard, And even now my tears will flow When I think of her life so hard. Just think of having but one dress, And then to keep it clean; No one but God knew the distress That dear girl tried to screen. The teacher put me next above her, Both of us in one seat, And that is how I came to love her, Poor little Sue, so sweet. At noontime she would slip away To eat her lonely lunch. She d never have a word to say, She d never join the bunch. Page forty-seven Little Sue Continued Each day a package she would bring, Five or six inches square, Tied up so neatly with a string, A speck of grease nowhere. I watched one day and found what she Had in the lunch pack there Four little blocks, smooth as could be, Like pieces of bread cut square. She brought no lunch, but made believe My poor, proud little Sue. My heart ached so I couldn t conceive What the very poor must do. I told the girls and teacher, too, And our hearts were opened wide, And all to that poor girl were true, Our love we could not hide. We each brought more than we could eat And made her join the bunch, We voted her the highest seat When we took noonday lunch. Page forty-eight w Memories of Childhood HEN we were young, and children small, A happy home just held us all; The place where peace had ever dwelt, Where oft at mother s knee we knelt. The rose-tree climbed about the door; The buzzing bee came oft for store; There mother s face shone all the day, A holy light upon life s way. The pansies grew, so thick indeed, There was no place for grass or weed; And mignonette in clusters, too, Bloomed humbly there the summer through. And buttercups, with golden sheen, And hyacinths filled the nooks between ; Old-fashioned pinks, all laden low, Bloomed softly, too, all in a row. There every spring the swallow came And built her nest in place the same. Twas made of mud and sticks and string A fitting home for birds in spring. The grapevine, trailing in and out, Shared every trick we were about, And while it grew up towards the sky We played keep house, and made mud pie. Page forty-nine Memories of Childhood continued The old settee, all painted green How many memories round it lean, As on the porch, so broad and wide, It stood, by summer and winter tried. Out in the barn, to rafters tied, The swing hung down for us to ride; And, sometimes, out we d fall, and bump Our heads and faces "Oh, the lump!" Sometimes we d climb up in the mow, So full of hay we d wonder how The hens could hide their nests away, While we played all the livelong day. Now mother s gone, and father, too; Scattered the loved ones, tried and true, Some in the churchyard and some in the West; Deserted and empty, the dear home nest! In fancy I see them, in snowy white, Beckoning me to come tonight ; And when my work down here is done I ll meet and greet them every one. Page fifty F Thy Way Is Best ATHER, I know tis best for me This cup that Thou dost send; I may not all Thy meaning see As up life s hill I wend; And yet I know that neath this woe The struggling roots of flowers grow, And, when perfected by Thy grace, They ll bloom in many a sunny place. How often have I turned away From all these bitter things E en hoping for a brighter day, Wishing my roses had less stings ; And when the thorn that pierced my flesh Was turned by Thee to a caress I smiled and sang my sweetest song For lo, behold ! the thorn was gone. And so I ve come Thy way to know Familiar, like a path well worn; And when dark clouds loom high or low I rest content amidst the storm; Yea, though my sky be overcast, I know the blue will come at last, And I can trust when I cannot see ; For I know Thy way is best for me. Pag-e fifty-on I Cheerfulness N a work-a-day world like this, Where things go booming along, We are just as young as the heart is ; And this shall be my song. We can cry from now till doomsday, And frown till the wrinkles come, But the dearest thing on earth, I say, Is a cheerful heart at home. Cheerfulness puts the "growls" to flight, No matter where or when, When there are cheerful hearts in sight, Whether three score or ten. The children know when they see it Around the family hearth; Then let s live for cheer, and be it It s the dearest thing on earth. Page fifty-two A A Little Gleam LARGE frame house with comfort filled Between the prairie and the wood, Where young birds songs in passion thrilled And we found every good. Dear mother waiting at the door, The queen of all the place, The smile her dear face ever wore Bordered in finest lace. The cherry trees we planted there, My little sister and I, Flung out their blossoms sweet and rare Beneath a loving sky. There every spring the swallows come With all their chattering glee, And built their nests the very same In gable, bush and lea. A grassy lane, off the main road, With one big poplar tree, Where Pa oft halted with his load, We children there would be. The rows of corn we used to drop How long they grew some days ! While I helped father with the crop I d sandwich in my lays. Oh, those were happy days, dear, then, When life flowed like a dream, This picture I ve made with my pen Is but a little gleam. Page fifty - three N The Empty Nest one but God will ever know How hard it was to let him go ; The last, last birdling in the nest It may be, God knows, for the best. 1 try to be brave and smile through tears, But when I think of the lonesome years The tears well fast till my eyes are dim, For, in all the world, I had but him. How often in childhood he knelt by me, His blue eyes full of sympathy, Telling me how he loved me so, That never from my side he d go. Now another calls him all her own I sit here alone, alone, alone ! And the heart aches so in my poor breast- A mother alone with her empty nest. Page fifty-four N The Secret of Happiness OT till we ve begun to live for others Do the sweets of life appear; When refining fire burns the dross it covers Then the best of life is near. When we ve solved the living problem That our Heavenly Father planned, Then we ll gladly help our fellowmen With loving, outstretched hand. And we all will grow wiser and better Each day as we truly live, And the old false ring will not fetter, For the true-hearted freely give. And we ll find in the joy of living A paradise below; We ll thrive all the better by giving And reap just what we sow. Page f if ty -f i v I / Love to Remember LOVE to remember mother Of all life s memory best, Her love for us like no other Made home a place of rest. I love to remember the beauty That shone on her patient face, As she told us, "The path of duty Was ever the dearest place." I love to remember the prayer Lisped at her tired knee ; The good that we ever found there Will live through eternity. I love to remember the blessing, The dear voice low and sweet, The kiss and the dear caressing That welcomed our coming feet. Oh, I know 111 remember forever The place she made so dear, And I ll never forget, no, never, How she ruled by love, not fear. Page fifty-six The Answered Prayer i N the light of a western gleaming A mother waits for her son, Tis of him alone she is dreaming As the lengthening shadows run. On her face are traces of sorrow And lines of weary care ; "Perhaps, he will come tomorrow," Is mingled with her prayer. The days of his happy childhood Pass fair before her eyes, When he was innocent, true and good, When she hushed his childish cries. Long years ago he left her To face the world s keen blast; No good-bye was spoken to mother He ran away at last. But she s kept the light in the window Thru all these weary years. How often it streamed o er the meadow As she softly wiped her tears. But her face is calm this evening As, with Bible on her knee, She forgets the pain and grieving God s love wells up so free. She has caught a glimpse of the glory That trusting always brings, For the Risen Christ and his story Have touched the hidden springs. Page fifty-seven The Answered Prayer She had often heard old Rover As he barked in the meadow lone, But tonight, somehow or other, Her heart felt less of pain. Yet, listen ! yes, tis something She hears a step without A familiar voice is chiding : "Now, Eover, you get out." A knock, and the latch is lifted A bearded man tis him! He looks so fine and gifted, Can that be her dear boy Jim? Strong arms are reached to hold her, His kiss is on her cheek, "Thank God you re living, mother!" How her old heart does leap. "For I ve come home to care for you, And love you, as I ought; Forgive me, mother, can you, For the sorrow I have wrought?" And the angels smiled with gladness At the beautiful picture there; Her face lost all its sadness, For God had answered prayer. Page fifty- eight I The Homesick Farmer M so weary of the city, Its fashion and its noise; The people here I pity, I long for country joys. "Give me the life that s simple, Old-fashioned, if you please, The curve of an honest dimple, My every-day clothes and ease. "I came to please my daughter Bess, To visit her a spell; But I ve stayed long enough, I guess- I don t feel very well. "Dear Bess is kind as she can be, She does the best she can; This life would never do for me I m but a farmer-man. "My coat is far too snug a fit, My collar chokes me quite, This necktie, I m not used to it, My shoes don t feel just right. "It s harder work than makin hay Or watchin taters grow To keep yourself dressed up all day, Just so s to make a show. "To smile and bow and simper Just for the sake of style, Would make an idiot whimper If he tried it all the while. Page fifty- nine The Homesick Farmer "I m homesick for the mellow light Of sunset on the farm; The clover blossoms pure and white That hold me with their charm. "Oh, waving grass and fields of grain, Ye beckon me to come ! I ll know no longing, know no pain When once in sight of home. "I guess I ll start right off today I must be homesick, sure; I ll not feel well till on the way There is no other cure." Page sixty SITY ) Bessie s LOWLY the cow-bells jingle Along the grassy lane, While distant noises mingle With scent of new mown grain. The crimson glory from the West Floods sky and field and plain, A belated robin from the nest Is flying home again. The lowing kine impatient Wait at the farm-yard gate; And father, on his work intent, Says, "Milkin s rather late." "I m hungry, too, I want to sup; The cows have waited long. Now hurry, wash the dishes up, You dream too much, it s wrong. But Bessie gazes at the sky, Forgetful of where she is; The maiden has a poet s eye For just such scenes as this. Slowly she drags herself to work, Hiding the tears that come, Wishing she could only shirk Or else be blind and dumb. Page sixty-one A An Old- Fashioned Memory H, they pass like the breeze o er the clover The pictures that memory leaves. Though I ve traveled this wild world over, They re the sweetest that fancy weaves. The cottage, the woodland, the sheep in the meadow, The sun slanting low in the west; The porch and its woodbine, the slow climbing shadow So calm with its hallow of rest. The orchard, the laugh, the chat in the twilight, The first kiss and afterwards two The cows and the bars, the starlit night, The fairest I ever knew. The cellar, the milk pans, the sound of the strainer, What memory was ever more sweet? The smile, and the blush, no admission was plainer While shyly our hands would meet. The long cozy talks by the old front gate ; The moon almost hid by the trees, Her mother s soft whisper, "It s getting late," The lingering clasp and squeeze. But why I should think of all this tonight I m sure I never can tell, Unless it s because her sweet face, as I write, Holds for me the same old spell. Page sixty-two The Christmas Turkey (A Fact) o LD Green was a merry cobbler Pegging all day with a will. He had his eyes on a gobbler Seven wee girls stomachs to fill. But I heard some news this morning They had another one, And he was raving and storming Because it wasn t a son. But I could hardly blame him Eight girls all in a string. Ah, one little boy could tame him With all that love could bring. He never looked at the darling The little red shivering mite He just went around and was snarling- They all kept out of his sight. The little tots hid in the corner Whenever he d come in, The house was like when the mourners Are begging because of sin. But mother was resting easy (She d had the same old smile), While dear, darling sister Lizzie Said, "He ll quit after a while." Page sixty-three The Christmas Turkey (A Fact) He declared he d give up the turkey Because it wasn t a boy, But they noticed his eyes grew murky ; From his pocket, he drew a toy. Ma said, "Pork and beans would do For us this Christmas year." When law me ! he jes took out a chew And said, "The turkey s here." M The Lord Loves His Own Y neighbor has lost her baby, The hearse is at the door; I know, though she s a rich lady, Her heart must be very sore. I hugged my own more closely For the loss across the street; I pity that mother, so lonely, Her baby was so sweet. I see the carriages lining In rows, there, over the way, I question then, tears shining, Why her baby was taken away. That question I could not answer. The mother sits there alone. . . Ah, hark ! I have got the answer : "God loves, and takes his own." Page sixty-four H The Roadside Well ER dress was an old-fashioned print of blue, She stood by the roadside well, Sweet, demure and dainty too, With a manner that became her well. Along the road a horseman came Riding an iron gray, And life was never quite the same To either after that day. She held the dipper in her hand, It was made of common tin, And neither one could understand How bright it grew, out and in. I ll ask her for a drink, thought he, And that will break the ice While blushing red as she could be She filled the dipper twice. No water ever seemed so clear As this from that old well. Twas perfect bliss to see her near, His love now he must tell. There they stood beneath the blue, A picture for any poet, For well he knew he loved her too And couldn t help but show it. Page sixty-five A The Roadside Well continued "Dear maiden will you marry me?" (He said it like a man), While she as innocent as could be Said, "Yes, sir, if I can." She put her dimpled hand in his And had no thought to falter, Thus proving that which true love is, That time nor fate can alter. Now this is all there is to say, My simple tale is done ; They met each other there that day And each a true heart won. No flirting or saying, "Wait awhile," They sealed it with a kiss. She s standing near me with a smile While I am writing this. A Good Combination KIND word costs so little, dear, A smile costs even less, And these combined will bring good cheer To some soul in distress. Page sixty-six T Prohibition Has Come to Stay HERE goes a man, his nose is red ; His children at home are crying for bread; He takes the world easy, drinks poisonous gin; While his poor, patient wife is growing so thin. The neighbors they pity and say, "It s too bad, Smith s children are ragged and looking so sad." The brewer he smiles and drives his fat horses, While the drunkard falls in the street as he crosses, And men of good sense all sit at their ease, And ask God to bless this great curse, if you please ; While the children are reared in this hotbed of sin A country that flows in wine, brandy and gin. The groans that are rising are filling the air, While heartbroken women are kneeling in prayer, And lives are o errunning with anguish and pain Because of the rule of rum s heartrending reign; Alas, o er our country the cry has gone up : "God keep our boys from the poison cup." We look at the tender, untried feet That pass as we go along the street, While we hug our little ones to our side ; For the stream that is flowing is deep and wide. When the seething waters come so near, Is it any wonder we shudder with fear? Page sixty-seven Prohibition Has Come to Stay Ah, ye in homes of peace tonight, What have ye to say of rum s sad blight; Of lives made wretched, hearts torn and bled, And hungry little ones crying for bread, And staggering footsteps coming to meet Homes where the bitter is more than the sweet? Too long have we watched for a rift in the cloud, With hearts all crushed and heads all bowed; But now we must rise in the strength God has given, And plead that our cries may pierce yon heaven, And show to the world we mean what we say That Prohibition has come to stay. H Perfect Trust APPY are they who all the day Can on the Lord their burdens lay; Can look up through the mist and tears, And see the light ahead that cheers, Knowing that all these trials given Are but the pruning tests for Heaven ; Content to know God leads and lives, That what is best for growth He gives. They who have never known this trust Stand back and languish, as they must, Missing the good for every soul, The leaven that leaveneth the whole. Page sixty-eight D The Good Word Now ONT wait till death has set me free To lay flowers on my brow ; If you have one good word for me Make haste to say it now. I want to hear while I am living The best your heart can give. True words, kind and forgiving, To help me while I live. Don t wait till the bell is tolling To chant my praises, dear, Give me some word consoling, To comfort while I m here. To put flowers in a pulseless hand Is mockery I trow; Don t silence love at your command But say the good word now. Page sixty-nine w Whose Mother Is It ? HEN mother gets too poor and old They don t want her around. They go to her, so I am told, And tell of a place they ve found. They tell of porches broad and wide That reach around the place; Where she in comfort can abide And wear fine caps of lace. Where everything is clean and nice, Not a particle of dirt; And they are willing to pay the price (To make her old heart hurt). And then poor mother begins to shiver, She nearly turns to stone ; Forgets, almost, that God s a giver, She gets no love from her own. The birds build in the porches there, They warble and they sing, While mother sits with whitened hair, Her love s a forgotten thing. Soon the empty nest hangs from the bough And life goes on the same. Thank God, dear mother s resting now Where love is a living flame ! Page seventy N Not As I Will OT as I will," dear Lord, I pray, Give me the strength to see That Thy way is a better way Than mine could ever be. Not as I will," oh, make it plain So I can see my way To follow Thee through loss or gain, My burdens on Thee lay. "Not as I will," the thought is sweet, To leave it all with Thee, My will, my gifts, my all complete Just what is best for me. "Not as I will," I am His child, He loves me, this I know; He makes me glad and reconciled, He calms the storms that blow. Page seventy-one A The Plains of Peace FTER all the work and trying, After all our grief and pain, There s a bright spot underlying, Like sunshine after rain. No good will He withhold us Who loves us all the time, In crucible He holds us, Your wayward heart and mine. While we in stubborn blindness Cry oft as children do, The while His loving kindness Makes ways for me and you. It takes so long for us often To understand God s ways. He has His way our hearts to soften And plans all the delays. At last we reach the valley Of dear content and peace, The place where angels rally, The plains where sorrows cease. Page seventy-two I The New Baby HEARD a new noise in the house I never had heard before ; It sounded like a squealing mouse Hidden behind the door. Pa s face was all aglow with smiles, The nurse smiled knowingly, too ; The neighbors all came in for miles Baby was on review. We dressed him in his Sunday best Embroidered bib and all; The way they hauled him out of his nest Would make any baby squall. I grew indignant at them all For handling my baby so ; I ordered Pa the nurse to call And tell them all to go. Page se v e n t y - t h r e e A What A Good Word Did GOOD word started out one day; Its mission to fulfill. It went where happy children play And made them happier still. And then it hurried on apace To a poor widow s cot; It brought the smiles to her poor old face Like sunshine in a garden plot. And all this time the sun grew low Out in the western sky, And still it lingered, could not go, It heard somebody sigh. And Sorrow peeped from out her door And whispered, "Do come here, My breaking heart is, oh, so sore ! I need a little cheer." It went in there though it was night, . That little word so strong; It touched a pillow where, wan and white, A woman had lain years long. It brought the glow of health to her, Bright smiles where once were tears ; And proved love s dear interpreter, Brought gladness to her years. If one little word can do so much "What may not a whole lot do, If they start forth with a loving touch And tell their story true? Page seventy-four T Her First Love Song ONIGHT when I put down the bars, And drive out the lowing kine, I ll tell my story to the stars And tell it all in rhyme. For, oh, me! I must tell some one About this love I ve found, How when the closing day is done I love to have him round. I know that they will never tell He kissed me yesterday; Ah ! they will keep my secret well And all I have to say. I ll tell them how my fate I met In life s dear winding lane; How Love came in with quiver set ; I wasn t a bit to blame. And, also, how he came to me, A ray of joy and mirth, Bringing his heart aflame to me, This kingly son of earth. How I, a bashful little maid, Just saw him passing by, How I, a little bit afraid, Looked at him rather shy. Page seventy-five Her First Love Song continued This love of mine is something new, It s changed my life complete; I hear him now, he s singing too, It echoes across the wheat. I feel the thrill of a new song now Since my love loves me so. Why, every bird upon the bough Warbles, "I know, I know." F A Lost Thought ROM o er life s ever-changing sea A grand thought floated out to me, As though an angel brought it, too, The music was most rare and new. My waiting heart thrilled with delight At glowing words that I should write, I aimed to catch them on the wing Then sat me down my song to sing. When lo ! at distance, dim and gray, My thought like seaweed whirled away. I sat all day by the changing shore But that dear thought returned no more. Pag-e seventy -six S For the Children s Sake HE married me, a poor young man, According to the modern plan ; The first year was a year of bliss ; She never failed a true wife s kiss. Fool that I was to dream that she Could live her whole life loving me. The very glance of her dark eyes Proclaimed the depths of hidden lies. But I kept on unmindful yet Of all the pitfalls fate had set, My poor heart almost turned to stone Hungry I sat among my own. Now with my coffers full of gold And all of life s tales almost told, I look, alas, with tear-dimmed eyes At all the ruin that round me lies. There is no love between us now The silver rim is on my brow Tis only for the children s sake Life s straight appointed way we take. Page s e v e n t y - s e v e n I Spring Had Come NEVER knew the poppies were out Till I heard the children laugh and shout, Coming home with their hands all full Of the golden cups so beautiful. Mid the city s noise and crowd and din, By four walls almost hidden in, I never dreamed that spring had come Till the children brought the flowers home. I placed them on the mantelpiece, Then sat me down for a short release, Gazing at them with hungry eyes; The children had taken me by surprise, And I was delighted, like a child, For spring had come, and I was wild. o A Little Streak WHAT a beautiful streak in the sky I called my neighbor too, And both spellbound, she and I, The smile on our facejs grew. Twas only a little streak, you know, But it started the day aright ; It led us out where violets grow, Where angels walk in white. We needed no preacher nor dim church aisle To tell us we had a God : We peeped out every little while At coaxing sky and sod. Page seventy-eight Berrying H OW we used to hunt for berries Do you remember, dear, How we wandered o er the pasture When the days were bright and clear? How they hung in luscious clusters . Enough to tempt a king? How glad we were to find them And home to mother bring? How the birds sang trills of gladness Tempting us out at morn? How welcome was the echo Of the sounding dinner horn? Do you recollect the grassy lane That stretched so far away, And the very corner where we sat To twine the flowers of May? Oh! those were happy days, dear, When you and I were young, And the days we went a-berrying, Are in my memory hung. Ah, the fairy land we found then ! What dreams will now compare To the castles we built then, dear, In the berry-scented air? Ah, dear, have I been dreaming? Come, let me kiss your brow The old place is sold to strangers And we buy our berries now. Page seventy-nine W They Are Babies Yet HEN the children hung about my knee, And life was full of care ; A holy joy hung over me, A joy we all could share. They d often step upon my toes, Climbing up for a kiss ; But, oh, such little slips as those Could never mar our bliss. But who on earth would ever check The touch of those little hands? The dimpled arms about my neck Were so many jewel bands. And life went on with a merry rush My babies are grown up now; But the song in my heart will never hush, They are babies yet, somehow. Page eighty H One Mother s Heart E was my last dear loving boy; Each day he brought me some new joy. Our lives went on like a peaceful dream, His love for me the one bright gleam. I made such plans where he would climb, I loved him well, that boy of mine. I never thought the time would come When he would grace another home. I know tis the way that all birds do, To leave the nest and build for two. I must stay here in the nest alone, Wish them the happiness I have known. Though another calls him "all her joy," He is mine still, my boy, my boy! My tears drop on this as I write I miss him, I miss him so tonight. Page e igh ty - on I My Babies MISS you, my babies, I miss you, Your sweet childish prattle so dear; I reach out my arms to caress you, But find only emptiness here. In your beds neath the grasses and daisies You know not the depth of my pain. I want you, my babies, my babies, Why sleep you out there in the rain ! I stand by the window in waiting, My treasures, ah, where have you flown? Do you know mother s warm heart is breaking, My darlings, my babies, my own? The rain patters down on the clover, The robin chirps low in the wheat ; Sad, sad is the heart of your mother, As softly your names I repeat. I call you at morning, at evening No voice answers back to my cry, And I sit here alone in my grieving, And ask why my darlings should die. Then out of the silence that greets me, A rainbow of promise appears ; God s love is the solace that meets me. And bravely I smile thru my tears. Page eighty-two w God s Tenderness E wonder sometimes at the testing God gives His children here. Why He sends us the storm before the resting When the beautiful blue is near. We wonder at the way He leads us, Poor, blind mortals that we be, When for His work down here He needs us, Poor, unworthy you and me. Every day we find some blessing His goodness ever sends, The tender grass our feet are pressing With His great love it blends. Where er we look His tenderness Is shown in everything. Then we, how could we love Him less, Or fail His praise to sing? Page eighty-three o The Way of The Cross H, neighbors old and young and gray, Bowed down with loads of care, For you I ll sing a song today, Your load I ll help to bear. I know your heartache and your tears- (Show me where they are not), I want to say a word that cheers, I know the heart s sore spot. I ve suffered, too, and that is how I know your pain so well, And that is why I m anxious now The way of the cross to tell. I see you when the shadows fall At noon and morning time. It seems there is a cross for all, Your shoulders as well as mine. But, oh, they vary in size and weight, I wonder why tis so. Some reach way beyond Heaven s gate And Christ s dear message show. I see some trailing in the dust, Oh, where do they belong? Neglected, trampled, lost to trust, Their owners going wrong. Page eighty-four The Way of The Cross I see another small and neat, A tiny little cross, The owner lives across the street, Her soul has suffered loss. The only little one she had The Master took one day, And though she smiles, her eyes are sad, She s learned "God s will" to say. Another lost her only son When grown to man s estate; But in his loss a crown she won, Her cross has lost its weight. And others still have lost their health, Their plans are all laid low. They plead in vain for life s best wealth, Their cheeks have lost their glow. Tis then they know their weakness best, No one but God can cure; Yet when we show our meekness best He helps us to endure. Another was a drunkard s wife, The cross was hard to bear, And often the sharp pruning knife Left deep scars everywhere. Page eighty-five The Way of The Cross And yet she held that cross of woe, Close to her bleeding breast, And through it all God loved her so, He planned her way the best. Her cross grew beautiful and bright, No more it crushed her down; The words she sang thrilled with delight, "No cross without a crown." A Little Word of Prayer N OT less of sorrow, Lord, I ask today of Thee, But strength to bear the load A bit more patiently. Not easier paths for me, But greater length of grace, That I Thy follower may be In every time and place. Not empty hands to hold, But plenty sheaves to bring. When all life s story s told Thy praises still to sing. Page eighty-six A Two Babies FTER the painful battle was fought Not one baby, but two, they brought. I looked at the tiny, helpless things: Two little angels, minus wings. Then all the love that heart could hold Rushed out both darlings to enfold. Oh, me ! how well I remember the bliss Of having those little dears to kiss. So much alike, you could not tell And Grandma kept saying, "Well, well, well! The clothes you made are all too big; Not one of them is worth a fig." But only one, God let me keep Softly one morn one went to sleep; But still I had a treasure left, My poor heart was not quite bereft. And now I smile through tearful eyes, My babies beckon from the skies. And some day, and it won t be long, I ll sing with them a holier song. Pag-e eighty-seven If I Could Have My Way i F I could always have my way, Be care-free all the live-long day, With nothing to hinder or molest, I wonder if it would be best? To have life s sorrows vanish quite, My pathway ever fair and bright, Life s sweetest roses on my breast, I wonder if it would be best? To have the smoothest path of life, With no touch of the pruning knife, My heart says, No, it would not be The best or wisest thing for me. Some plants need more of shade than sun To make the perfect colors run; And oft sharp pruning in the spring, That they abundant fruit may bring. If this, dear Lord, be what I need, Prune Thou, then, though the branches bleed, And water with Thy grace divine Each tiny root that makes the vine. Till every stalk, and stem, and shoot, Has Thy inspiration at the root, That my life-vine may bloom, and bring Blest fruitage for Thy garnering. Page eighty -eight o Our Best H, for a heart that s cheery, Oh, for a soul that s strong, To lean on when we re weary, When days seem sad and long. Oh, for a word of kindness, Trifles we think they are, They are gems of rarest fineness And, oh, they reach so far. Oh, for the good most needed As we go up and down, Were our best thought but heeded We all would wear a crown. Oh, be a cheerful liver, Helping where er you go, Thanking the Gracious Giver For all the good we know. Oh, for a heart that s humble, True and good and kind, Oh, God, don t let us grumble, Help us "Our Best" to find. Page eighty-nine P If Wed Forgive LENTY of love there is, and boundless; Still lives starve each day around us, Hungering for a child s sweet kiss And little things that make life s bliss. All too slow are we in giving What would make a life worth living. Hoarding, yielding such paltry dole, When we might help a human soul. Ah! the plan that God intended All the way with love is blended; We would heal hearts by the score, If we d forgive, be like Him more. w The Happiest Soul E all love cheerful people best, No matter where we go, Be it North or South or East or West, Smiles will make a sad heart glow. Human hearts are about the same When it comes to love and cheer, It s not very hard to start the flame When enough of love is near. A sour face and hard old frown Will drive anyone away, And the happiest soul in town Is one who smiles today. Page ninety s Life s Best Pleasure HE brought me a rose to cheer me, She knew I loved them so ; As the scent of the rose came near me My heart began to glow. With the rose she brought good feeling, And kindness in her heart; Real love for me revealing With all its magic art. As I thanked her for the flower With all a child s delight; I thought how simple a dower May make a sad heart light. For I had been feeling lonely, The Sabbath day was long; But when she brought the rose to me, My heart burst into song. Page ninety-on I Gathering 1 Home HEAR the tramp of coming feet, Loved ones gathering home, To me it s music dear and sweet As from their work they come. Husband, father, brother and son, Each one gathering there After the toiling day is done, The joys of home to share. I see a father take the hand Of his toddling little one, And then it is I understand How beautiful love can run. I see the mother at the gate With kisses for large and small, As patiently their turn they wait, She has enough for all. I love to think, as I hear them come, Of a gathering over there, Where we in that celestial home Eternal joys will share. Page ninety-two T My Meadow HE walls of my room seemed to bind me, I wanted to get away Where the Angel of Freedom could find me And there in gladness stay. A glimpse of blue at my window Framing a golden glow Made my heart bloom out like a meadow Where early wild flowers grow. A home-loving robin in passing Warbled a song in her flight, And I like a child trespassing Sang, too, with all my might. The blooms in my meadow were blowing To the music of wideawake dreams, While my little wild flowers were throwing The perfume, that lives, and redeems. Page ninety-three N How Mother Rested OW I sit me down to rest, Not a speck of dirt; Every chick has left the nest, How my heart does hurt. Every day is just the same, Silence all about; Tell me not love s but a name, 0, for a child to shout! Give me dirt and give me noise I d endure it all If I could only have my boys Near me when I call. Children never seem to think When they go away, How a mother s heart will sink If they go to stay. Pagre ninety-four Where The Praise Belongs o H, I want to be humble, Lord, And work where er I may be And leave some comforting word That breathes of love and Thee. There are hungry hearts about us Here, there, and everywhere. Out from our lethargy rout us To work for Thee anywhere. 1 The fields are white for the harvest The laborers are few." Now help us, Lord, to do our best; And praise to Thee is due. Page ninety-five o Roses H, how I love the roses, The tiny buds and all, Their gold hearts where the bee reposes, Their leaves that drop and fall. I grew up a child among the roses, Happy all day long. No one knew better than I the posies That made my life a song. There was one rose I loved to see, Large as a saucer, and pink, It scattered its leaflets over me When I was too small to think. And there was still another In clusters pure and white, The favorite of my mother That gave her most delight. But the dear bush of my childhood Grew up by mother s door, Blooming in clusters a blood-red brood Where their thorns my dresses tore. And yet I loved those roses best For all the thorns they had ; For mother would sit by them and rest, Smiling to see us glad. Page ninety-six Continued In that dear holy rose-lit place, We children at her feet, The roses falling about her face In benediction sweet. Oh, how I do love roses, Red or pink or white ! Though mother in Heaven reposes She s in this thought tonight. o The Call HEAR the wild birds calling, Calling me to the door; The apple blossoms falling All over the porch and floor. I drink in all this beauty God made it to revel in I hear no call to duty, I feel no touch of sin. These wild birds with their singing Do each their little part. So may I, my song bringing, Touch some poor weary heart. P a g- e ninety-seven o Sunset Colors UT of all the pain and sorrow, Out of all heartache and tears ; I can see a bright tomorrow, As the edge of it appears. Like a cloud that drifts at sunset, Mid the colors of the west; God s care around my life has set, And brought me peace and rest. I have trusted Him in plenty, I have trusted Him in woe ; Now my life is never empty, More care and love I know. In the past He gave me patience, He knows now what I need; I find His loving recompense Is something sweet indeed. I can see the risen glory, Of a faith that covers all; And my pen will tell the story, Till I hear the angels call. Page ninety-eight T Mother HE dearest songs that I could sing, All the eloquence I could bring Would never half begin to tell Of that dear one we loved so well. She knew how so to make a home ; She welcomed every one that come, Daytime or night, her love was there For every one of us to share. Her very presence brought us bliss, We asked no greater joy than this: To be near her the live-long day While we were happy at our play. She loved us, and she loved God, too, Twas this that made our home life true ; She taught us faith at her dear knee, Her trust deep rooted like a tree. The good she taught us children then, Tho we are now grown women and men, Runs through our lives a filtering stream Of which this song is but a gleam. Page ninety-nine Not Unkind, But Careless o H, the rarity of thoughtfulness And real kind desire, When a little love and kindness Would start the hearthstone fire. We are too slow with goodly deeds, The ones poor souls require, When empty hearts with all their needs, Stand pleading love s desire. Oh, how we all do hesitate And say, "some time we will," When many outside our garden gate Are passing hungry still. Ah, well ! the world isn t as heartless As some would have us believe. The trouble is we grow so careless, Forget the good to leave. Page one hundred w Content ITH this little view facing East I m perfectly content. I sit and feast, and feast, and feast, Thankful for mercies sent. I can see the blue sky yonder And the green hills sloping down, The velvet grass a field of wonder And on every hill a crown. The Artist who made the pictures Knew just the way to do, So that we poor, needy creatures Could revel in the view. While here I sit in the sunshine, A mother growing old, Thank God for His dear love divine, Tis strong to keep and hold. Page one hundred one G Pass Me On OOD-BY now friends, you ve read me through; Don t hide me quite away, But pass me on to some one who Still struggles on the way. The world is wide, and love is sweet; So pass it down the road, And reach a hand to those you meet Who have a heavier load. We cannot live for self alone And claim the best there is. The heart where others love is grown Will find no end of bliss. tXS ^v THE * \ UNIVERSITY | / THE END Page one hundred two UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Due two weeks after date. S EP 29 loi. U. C. BERKELEY LIBRARIES YC M 6 58 291902