Part 14 (1/2)

And yet I gladly stand the strain, And count the task worth while, Nor will I dismally complain While Buddy wears a smile.

What's one mouth more at any board Though costly be the fare?

The poorest of us can afford His frugal meal to share.

And so bring on the extra plate, He will not need a cup, And gladly will I pay the freight Now Buddy's got a pup.

The Little Church

The little church of Long Ago, where as a boy I sat With mother in the family pew and fumbled with my hat-- How I would like to see it now the way I saw it then, The straight-backed pews, the pulpit high, the women and the men Dressed stiffly in their Sunday clothes and solemnly devout, Who closed their eyes when prayers were said and never looked about-- That little church of Long Ago, it wasn't grand to see, But even as a little boy it meant a lot to me.

The choir loft where father sang comes back to me again; I hear his tenor voice once more the way I heard it when The deacons used to pa.s.s the plate, and once again I see The people fumbling for their coins, as glad as they could be To drop their quarters on the plate, and I'm a boy once more With my two pennies in my fist that mother gave before We left the house, and once again I'm reaching out to try To drop them on the plate before the deacon pa.s.ses by.

It seems to me I'm sitting in that high-backed pew, the while The minister is preaching in that good old-fas.h.i.+oned style; And though I couldn't understand it all somehow I know The Bible was the text book in that church of Long Ago; He didn't preach on politics, but used the word of G.o.d, And even now I seem to see the people gravely nod, As though agreeing thoroughly with all he had to say, And then I see them thanking him before they go away.

The little church of Long Ago was not a structure huge, It had no hired singers or no other subterfuge To get the people to attend, 'twas just a simple place Where every Sunday we were told about G.o.d's saving grace; No men of wealth were gathered there to help it with a gift; The only worldly thing it had--a mortgage hard to lift.

And somehow, dreaming here to-day, I wish that I could know The joy of once more sitting in that church of Long Ago.

Sue's Got a Baby

Sue's got a baby now, an' she Is like her mother used to be; Her face seems prettier, an' her ways More settled-like. In these few days She's changed completely, an' her smile Has taken on the mother-style.

Her voice is sweeter, an' her words Are clear as is the song of birds.

She still is Sue, but not the same-- She's different since the baby came.

There is a calm upon her face That marks the change that's taken place; It seems as though her eyes now see The wonder things that are to be, An' that her gentle hands now own A gentleness before unknown.

Her laughter has a clearer ring Than all the bubbling of a spring, An' in her cheeks love's tender flame Glows brighter since the baby came.

I look at her an' I can see Her mother as she used to be.

How sweet she was, an' yet how much She sweetened by the magic touch That made her mother! In her face It seemed the angels left a trace Of Heavenly beauty to remain Where once had been the lines of pain An' with the baby in her arms Enriched her with a thousand charms.

Sue's got a baby now an' she Is prettier than she used to be.

A wondrous change has taken place, A softer beauty marks her face An' in the warmth of her caress There seems the touch of holiness, An' all the charms her mother knew Have blossomed once again in Sue.

I sit an' watch her an' I claim My lost joys since her baby came.

The Lure That Failed

I know a wonderful land, I said, Where the skies are always blue, Where on chocolate drops are the children fed, And cocoanut cookies, too; Where puppy dogs romp at the children's feet, And the liveliest kittens play, And little tin soldiers guard the street To frighten the bears away.

This land is reached by a wonderful s.h.i.+p That sails on a golden tide; But never a grown-up makes the trip-- It is only a children's ride.

And never a cross-patch journeys there, And never a pouting face, For it is the Land of Smiling, where A frown is a big disgrace.

Oh, you board the s.h.i.+p when the sun goes down, And over a gentle sea You slip away from the noisy town To the land of the chocolate tree.

And there, till the sun comes over the hill, You frolic and romp and play, And of candy and cake you eat your fill, With no one to tell you ”Nay!”