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 JUS T JINGLES 
 
JUST JINGLES 
 
 ; ..0 
 
 By ARTHUR J^BURDICK 
 
 WMgi 
 
 The Peter Paul Book Company 
 Buffalo, New York 
 
 MDCCCXCVIII 
 

 2tVl02 
 
 Copyright, 1898 
 
 by 
 Arthur J. Burdick 
 
 TWO COPIES REC.iVED, 
 
 Printed and bound by The 
 Peter Paul Book Company, 
 in Buffalo, New York. 
 
TO 
 
 yiTiatt, mg Wiit 
 
 TO WHOSE ENCOURAGEMENT AND ASSISTANCE 
 
 I OWE WHATEVER SUCCESS I HAVE 
 
 ACHIEVED, THIS VOLUME IS 
 
 LOVING L Y DEDICA TED. 
 
Preface 
 
 In presenting this, my first volume of verse, to 
 the public, I have no apologies to offer. I make no 
 claims for my rhymes, literary or otherwise, beyond 
 that suggested in the title; they are "Just Jingles." 
 
 Some of these verses are now for the first time 
 given to the public ; the majority of them, however, 
 have appeared in print in various papers and mag- 
 azines. 
 
 To my friends, whose solicitations have induced 
 me to issue this volume, I say, "Here it is; may 
 it not prove disappointing to you "; to my readers 
 who have by their letters of appreciation encouraged 
 me in my literary attempts, " May you find as much 
 of inspiration and encouragement in these verses as 
 have I in your kind letters"; to my readers un- 
 known to me, "Here is to our better acquaintance ; 
 may you find entertainment in reading these jingles, 
 as I have in writing them" ; to the critic, " 'By the 
 lance are we healed ' ; your criticisms will not be taken 
 unkindly." 
 
 And now, as the bibulous Rip Van Winkle would 
 say, "Here's to your good health, and your future 
 families' good health ; and may you all live long and 
 prosper. ' ' 
 
 Arthur J. Burdick. 
 
Contents 
 
 Serious and Sentimental 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Living Chord, i 
 
 Lights by the Way, . 
 
 
 
 
 3 
 
 Thinking of You, 
 
 
 
 
 4 
 
 Light Celestial, . 
 
 
 
 
 6 
 
 One Song, .... 
 
 
 
 
 8 
 
 Only a Little Waiting, 
 
 
 
 
 9 
 
 To a Gull, .... 
 
 
 
 
 10 
 
 In the Afterglow. 
 
 
 
 
 II 
 
 Why I Love the Stars, 
 
 
 
 
 12 
 
 When the Heart Speaks, 
 
 
 
 
 14 
 
 Maidens Three, . 
 
 
 
 
 15 
 
 Echoes, 
 
 
 
 
 16 
 
 When I Meet You Again, 
 
 
 
 
 17 
 
 We Meet Again, 
 
 
 
 
 18 
 
 Sweetbrier, 
 
 
 
 
 19 
 
 A Truant Song, . 
 
 
 
 
 21 
 
 A Valentine, 
 
 
 
 
 22 
 
 The Leafless Tree, 
 
 
 
 
 23 
 
 Keep Singing Your Song, 
 
 
 
 
 . 25 
 
 Songs of Nature and the Seasons 
 
 The Seasons 31 
 
 Autumn Days, . 
 
 
 
 
 • 34 
 
 Fair Time, . 
 
 
 
 
 • 36 
 
 December, . 
 
 
 
 
 . 38 
 
 Winter, 
 
 
 
 
 . 40 
 
 A Springtime Song, . 
 
 
 
 
 . 42 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Two Songs to May, 
 Spoil-laden, 
 Song of the Plow, 
 The Lake at Sunset, 
 
 Narrative and Remiiiisceiit 
 
 Tidings, 
 
 The Old Home, . 
 
 Memorial, . 
 
 Oh, To Be a Boy Again ! 
 
 The Horse Fiddle, 
 
 The Old Meadow Brook, 
 
 Uncle Dan, 
 
 Old-time Days, . 
 
 Abdallah's Lesson, . 
 
 Bill, .... 
 
 Uncle Mat, 
 
 An Unlearned Lesson, 
 
 Aunt Keziah, 
 
 Skipper Ireson, . 
 
 The Witches of Salem, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 43 
 
 45 
 46 
 
 47 
 
 53 
 56 
 58 
 
 59 
 60 
 
 63 
 65 
 67 
 69 
 
 71 
 73 
 75 
 77 
 79 
 83 
 
 Children's Poems 
 
 Persevere, 
 
 The Hay Barn, .... 
 Tale of the Turk and the Tartar, 
 Sir Hubert's Ride, 
 The Runaway Boy, . 
 The Glorious Fourth, 
 A Lullaby, . . . . . 
 How Abed Saved His Head, . 
 The Boy and the Bouncing Bear, 
 A Bold Hold-up, 
 
 91 
 93 
 
 94 
 97 
 
 lOI 
 
 102 
 
 104 
 106 
 108 
 109 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 XI 
 
 When Uncle Sam Was Young, 
 
 Father Sun and Mother Moon, 
 
 Twins, .... 
 
 My Big Brother, . 
 
 The Fairy and the Burr, 
 
 The Brave Midget, . 
 
 How a King Lost His Christmas Dinner, 
 
 Slumber Street, . 
 
 The Thoughtless Three, . 
 
 The Grisly Grum, 
 
 The Little German Band, . 
 
 The Tables Turned, . 
 
 A Pair of Runaways, . 
 
 The Wicked Wambellee Woo, 
 
 Pussy's Valentine, 
 
 Timorous Tommy, 
 
 Orphan Billy, 
 
 Miscellaneous 
 
 If You've Only Got the Sand, 
 
 Don't You Think It Better? 
 
 The Brave Ones, 
 
 High Tide, . 
 
 The Woodland Pool, 
 
 Von Blinker the Tinker, 
 
 The Rose and the Thorn, 
 
 Take Courage, . 
 
 The Time for Dreaming, 
 
 Sunset on the Farm, . 
 
 Good Night, 
 
 PAGE 
 IIO 
 112 
 114 
 
 116 
 118 
 120 
 122 
 123 
 124 
 126 
 128 
 130 
 132 
 
 134 
 136 
 
 141 
 
 143 
 144 
 146 
 
 147 
 148 
 
 Acknowledgments are due the courtesy of The New England 
 Magazine, Godefs Magazine, The Peterson Magazine, The IVomati's 
 Magazine, The Penny Magazine, and The American Home Magazine 
 for reprint of some of the poems contained in this volume. 
 
Illustrations 
 
 To a Gull, facing page w 
 
 nI Spoil-laden, " ''45 
 
 si The Old Home, . . . . . " ''56 
 
 ^ The Woodland Pool, . . . . " " /^7 
 
SERIOUS AND SENTIMENTAL 
 
JUST JINGLES 
 
 SERIOUS AND SENTIMENTAL 
 
 The Living Chord 
 
 The harp, with its delicate, sensitive strings, 
 
 When tenderly touched with skill, 
 Awakes a melody sweet, that rings 
 On waiting ear ; and it wings and flings 
 The harmony rare, that finds and brings 
 To the heart a tender thrill. 
 
 My heart, hke a sensitive lyre that had known 
 
 No thrill of the artist's hand. 
 At thy tender touch found voice and tone. 
 Inspired by thy will alone, my own, 
 A melody rare and sweet has grown — 
 
 A symphony clear and grand. 
 
2 JUST JINGLES 
 
 And the quiver and throb, and the rhythmic thrill 
 
 Of my heart, thy hand swept o'er : 
 Nor time, in passing, nor death, can still, 
 Nor damp of the grave can chill or kill ; 
 But the sweet, vibrating music will 
 
 Continue, love, evermore. 
 
SERIOUS AND SENTIMENTAL 
 
 Lights by the Way 
 
 We meet in the world, on life's highway, 
 
 People sedate and people gay ; 
 
 And amid the hurrying, rushing throng, 
 That ever and ever is swept along 
 
 On this human tide of weal and woe. 
 
 Some passing face from that ebb and flow, 
 
 Some glance of an eye, or some plaintive tone 
 From a kindred soul, is briefly shown, 
 Then is borne away to the great Unknown. 
 
 But that passing glimpse of a brother soul, 
 Like a legend graved on a parchment scroll, 
 In memory's archives is laid away, 
 To appear again on some future day. 
 And who can tell, or who may know 
 How far the spell of that glance may go? 
 
 Some thrill of that soul may have pierced our own ; 
 From those eyes some laudable purpose shone. 
 That our pathway lights to the great Unknown. 
 
JUST JINGLES 
 
 Thinking of You 
 
 When I see a sky of blue, 
 Makes me think, my dear, of you ; 
 Brings to mind your blue, blue eyes. 
 Rivaling the azure skies ; — 
 Makes me think, my dear, of you, 
 When I see a sky of blue. 
 
 When the sun shines bright and clear, 
 Makes me think of you, my dear. 
 And your smile so cheery, bright. 
 Turning darkness into light ; — 
 Makes me think of you, my dear. 
 When the sun shines bright and clear. 
 
 Fields of roses, wet with dew, 
 Make me think, my dear, of you, 
 And the sweetness of your love. 
 Kissed by dews of heaven above ; 
 Love that's constant, pure, and true, — 
 Fields of roses, wet with dew. 
 
SERIOUS AND SENTIMENTAL 
 
 When the birds sing blithe and gay, 
 Think of you the Uvelong day — 
 Think, and.long your voice to hear, 
 Sweetest music to my ear ; — 
 Think of you the livelong day, 
 When the birds sing blithe and gay. 
 
 When the world seems dark and drear, 
 Makes me think of you, my dear ; 
 Long to hear your cheering voice 
 Bidding me again rejoice ; — 
 Makes me think of you, my dear, 
 When the world seems dark and drear. 
 
JUST JINGLES 
 
 Light Celestial 
 
 Light Celestial, lead, I pray ; 
 Guide me on my weary way. 
 
 If my path leads through the valley where the black- 
 est shadows lie. 
 
 Where along the darkened pathway sin-cursed de- 
 mons hover nigh. 
 
 Though I journey in the daytime or grope onward 
 in the night, 
 
 I will fear nor foe nor evil, if led by thy kindly light. 
 
 Light Celestial, lead, I pray ; 
 
 Guide me on my weary way. 
 Though my path leads up the mountain where the 
 
 way is rough and steep, 
 Over roads thick-strewn with pitfalls, or by fearful 
 
 chasms deep, 
 I'll o'ercome each threatened evil, and surmount 
 
 the steepest height. 
 Safely walk amid all dangers, if led by thy kindly 
 
 light. 
 
SERIOUS AND SENTIMENTAL 7 
 
 Light Celestial, lead, I pray; 
 
 Guide me on my weary way. 
 Lead me all along life's pathway, be my journey 
 
 short or long ; 
 Lead me from the paths of evil, guide me from the 
 
 fields of wrong ; 
 Ever let me keep thy welcome, guiding radiance in 
 
 sight ; 
 Lead me from a world of darkness to eternal day, 
 
 O Light. 
 
JUST JINGLES 
 
 One Song 
 
 Of all the multitude of songs 
 
 That reach my ear, 
 One only lodges in my heart — 
 
 Your song, my dear. 
 Your song, so tender, sweet, and true, 
 
 My soul awakes ; 
 My voice helps swell the melody 
 
 Your music makes. 
 
 From out the harmony that floats, 
 
 One song I hear, 
 Sweeter than all the others are. 
 
 Tender and clear, 
 It leads me past the singers all. 
 
 And to your side, 
 Where, dear, with love and you 
 
 I would abide. 
 
 No other singer has the power. 
 
 Of all the throng. 
 Dear one, to lure me from your side 
 
 And your sweet song. 
 Your song, so tender, sweet, and true, 
 
 My soul awakes ; 
 My voice helps swell the melody 
 
 Your music makes. 
 
SERIOUS AND SENTIMENTAL 
 
 Only a Little IVaiting 
 
 Only a few more miles ; only a little way ; 
 Heaven and home are just ahead, waiting at close 
 
 of day. 
 Only a few more days, a few more sighs and tears, 
 A few more stony hills to climb, a few more doubts 
 
 and fears. 
 
 Only a few more joys, a few more sunny hours, 
 
 A few more verdant hills to cross, a few more fra- 
 grant flowers ; 
 
 Only a few more smiles, a few more songs to sing; 
 
 A few more hours of sun and shade the journey's 
 end will bring. 
 
 Only a few more friends, to meet and know and love; 
 A few more partings, then the joy of greetings 
 
 sweet above ; 
 A few more days of toil, of earnest, weary quest ; 
 A {qw more waking, watchful hours, and then to 
 
 sleep — and rest. 
 
10 JUST JINGLES 
 
 To a Gull 
 
 Soul of bereaved one, troubled and tossed, 
 Searching the sea for the one who was lost, 
 Skimming the air or riding the wave, 
 Seeking forever that precious one's grave — 
 Bird of the sea, is it true, is it true, 
 That the soul of some mourning one lives within 
 you? 
 
 Whom art thou seeking? some brother or son 
 
 Who sank to his rest ere his voyage was done? 
 
 Or was it a husband, or lover so brave, 
 
 Who found an unmarked and untended grave? 
 
 Bird of the sea, is it true, is it true, 
 
 That the sea holds the one who is dearest to you? 
 
 Bird of the sea, when the dismal winds wail 
 And the breast of the ocean is swept by the gale, 
 When the demons of storm in their fierce anger 
 
 rave. 
 And you sink, 'neath their wrath, to a watery 
 
 grave — 
 Bird of the sea, is it true, is it true, 
 That the loved and the lost you find waiting for 
 
 you? 
 
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SERIOUS AND SENTIMENTAL 11 
 
 In the Afterglow 
 
 A MESSAGE I hold from my love, my love, 
 
 Who lies in the churchyard sleeping — 
 A message sweet that hid at my feet 
 
 As I stood by her lone grave weeping — 
 A missive sweet in a violet blue, 
 Saying, ' ' My love, I am ever true. 
 Watching ever, and waiting for you ; 
 In Heaven my vigil keeping." 
 
 Ah, delicate, beautiful message rare, 
 
 A fond and endearing token ; 
 A thought in bloom, to dispel the gloom 
 Of a heart that is well-nigh broken ; 
 Thrust from the cold and mold below, 
 A messenger sweet, to let me know 
 That love is as true in the afterglow 
 As when first our vows were spoken ! 
 
12 JUST JINGLES 
 
 IVhy I Love the Stars 
 
 Why do I love the stars ? Because the earth has 
 loved them so 
 
 Since first they sweetly smiled on her, long cen- 
 turies ago ; 
 
 Because they shine with steady light — are constant, 
 firm, and true ; 
 
 Because, my love, they light the way that leads 
 me unto you. 
 
 Why do I love the stars? Because the poets all 
 
 have sung 
 Their songs of love to those bright gems since this 
 
 old world was young ; 
 Because the stars have been the theme of songs so 
 
 grand and sweet : 
 With adoration, too, and song, their welcome light 
 
 I greet. 
 
 Why do I love the stars? Because all lovers love 
 
 them too, 
 And hand in hand have wandered in their light 
 
 since earth was new ; 
 Because, while shedding their soft light on every 
 
 land and sea, 
 They still have left a world of love and light to 
 
 shed on me. 
 
SERIOUS AND SENTIMENTAL 13 
 
 Why do I love the stars? Because, when far from 
 
 you, my love, 
 I know your eyes, as mine, are turned to those 
 
 bright worlds above ; 
 So, most of all, I love the stars because you love 
 
 them too, 
 And their bright beams bring thoughts and dreams 
 
 and memories of you. 
 
14 JUST JINGLES 
 
 IV hen the Heart Speaks 
 
 Words are vain and useless things — 
 
 Sounds that fret the ear. 
 Lips and tongue may silent be ; 
 Soul and thought still wander free. 
 What are words to me, or thee, 
 
 When the heart speaks, dear? 
 
 Silence waxes eloquent 
 
 When thou, love, art near; 
 
 Soul to soul its message brings ; 
 
 Thought meets thought on fairy wings. 
 
 Words are vain and useless things 
 When the heart speaks, dear. 
 
SERIOUS AND SENTIMENTAL 15 
 
 Maidens Three 
 
 A FAIR maid was Fortune, so fair, I declare, 
 
 I was tempted to woo, to my ruing. 
 Though often she'd smile and beguile for a while 
 My heart, oh ! I found by my wooing, 
 That Fortune was fickle, 
 
 . Her smiles were a snare, 
 Her beauty deceiving. 
 Her promises — air. 
 
 Ah ! Fame, stately Fame, lured me next, with pretext 
 
 Of a friendship both strong and enduring. 
 Deluded, I fell 'neath the spell of this belle, 
 But her smiles were as false as alluring. 
 And Fame, too, was fickle ; 
 
 My wooing was vain ; 
 Her friendship brought nothing 
 But sorrow and pain. 
 
 A sweet, tender maiden drew near, with a tear 
 
 Of compassion her fair cheek adorning. 
 A glance of her shy, tender eye, and a sigh 
 For my sorrow, turned night into morning ; 
 For Love with sweet pity 
 
 And cheering words came, 
 And won my allegiance 
 From Fortune and Fame. 
 
16 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Echoes 
 
 All of the songs have once been sung ; 
 
 For Music had her birth 
 Ages ago, when Time was young — 
 When Joy and Sorrow first found tongue, 
 
 And Love came down to earth. 
 
 All of the tales have once been told ; 
 
 For all of joy or pain 
 That pens of poets now unfold 
 Has lived in hearts of men of old — 
 
 Are tales but told again. 
 
 All of the rhythm and the rhyme 
 
 That bards and poets know. 
 All the melody, sweet, sublime, 
 But echoes are, flung back by Time, 
 
 From the realms of Long Ago. 
 
SERIOUS AND SENTIMENTAL 17 
 
 IVhen I Meet You Again 
 
 The wind sighs drear in the mountain ; 
 
 The song of the robin is sad ; 
 The brook trills a sorrowful ditty ; 
 
 The sunshine no longer is glad ; 
 All nature is sighing and moaning ; 
 
 And my heart, it is heavy with pain ; — 
 My pathway will lie in the shadows 
 
 Till I meet you, my darling, again. 
 
 The wind sighs drear in the mountain ; 
 
 It moans in the tree tops below ; 
 It wails as it sweeps past the cottage — 
 
 It knows you are absent, I know ; 
 The bluebird is grieving and moaning ; 
 
 The lark sings a plaintive refrain ; 
 And my heart will beat time to their sadness 
 
 Till I meet you, my darling, again. 
 
 When I meet you again, my darHng, 
 
 The world will awaken to song ; 
 The birds, the brook, and the soft winds, 
 
 The musical notes will prolong ; 
 The clouds and shadows will vanish. 
 
 And my sad heart will lose all its pain ; — 
 The sunshine will gladden my pathway 
 
 When I meet you, my darling, again. 
 
18 JUST JINGLES 
 
 We Meet Again 
 
 I HAVE met you again, my darling, 
 
 And the world has awakened to song. 
 The absence has all been forgotten — 
 
 That absence so bitter and long. 
 The sunshine that's flooding the valley 
 
 No longer is streaming in vain, 
 For my heart, like the world, is illumined ; — 
 
 I have met you, my darling, again. 
 
 The pain and the sorrow of parting 
 
 Are drowned in a rapturous bliss. 
 Ah ! ' twere worth all the pangs of the parting 
 
 To know such a pleasure as this. 
 Gone, gone, are the heartaches and longings ; 
 
 Gone, gone, all the torture and pain ; 
 And life is again worth the living ; — 
 
 I have met you, my darling, again. 
 
 The sad wind that once sighed so dreary. 
 
 Now whispers sweet strains to the trees ; 
 And the joyous notes of the robin 
 
 Float down on the soft autumn breeze ; 
 The lark and the bluebird and linnet 
 
 Break forth in a happy refrain ; 
 And my heart, like all nature, is singing ; — 
 
 I have met you, my darling, again. 
 
SERIOUS AND SENTIMENTAL 19 
 
 Sweetbrier 
 
 Some wait for the lily, and some for the rose ; 
 But I bide my time till the sweetbrier blows ; 
 For down in the meadow, mid fragrance and dew, 
 I first won a promise, my true love, from you. 
 
 Sweetbrier and dew, — 
 
 Rare skies of blue, — 
 A smile and a kiss and a promise from you. 
 
 A smile and a kiss and a pledge to be true ; 
 A bud from the sweetbrier — a token from you 
 That when once again the brier blossoms hide 
 Mid settings of green I may claim my fair bride. 
 
 Sweetbrier and dew, — 
 
 Rare skies of blue, — 
 'Tis then I am coming, my darling, for you. 
 
 O breath of the springtime, your soft air I bless ; 
 You wake the sweetbrier with your tender caress : 
 And May, with your sunshine, most gladly I greet ; 
 You tempt into blossom my brier bush sweet. 
 
 Sunshine and dew, 
 
 Rare skies of blue, 
 Are bringing me nearer, my darling, to you. 
 
20 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Some wait for the lily, and some for the rose ; 
 
 But I bide my time till the sweetbrier blows. 
 
 The first gleam of green leaves, the first bud in 
 
 view, 
 The first breath of fragrance will take me to you. 
 Sweetbrier and dew, — 
 Rare skies of blue, — 
 Yes, fragrance and flowers will bring me to you. 
 
SERIOUS AND SENTIMENTAL 21 
 
 A Truant Song 
 
 There woke within my heart one morn 
 An inspiration, sweet, sublime — 
 
 A rhapsody, a song unborn, 
 A prophecy of dulcet rhyme. 
 
 I took my lyre and touched the strings, 
 And caught one sweet, exquisite strain, 
 
 When from my soul on startled wings 
 It swiftly sped — my rare refrain. 
 
 In vain I sought my truant song ; 
 
 The music from my heart had fled ; 
 My lyre, that voice so sweet and strong, 
 
 Was silent too ; its muse was dead. 
 
 ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 Though other strains have woke my lyre, 
 And other songs have stirred my tongue. 
 
 E'en now I most of all desire 
 To find again my truant song. 
 
22 JUST JINGLES 
 
 ^ A Valentine 
 
 I WISH not a valentine gaily bedecked 
 
 With cupids and ribbons aflutter, 
 With sweet turtledoves and hand-painted loves, 
 
 And the rhythmical nonsense they utter ; 
 One glance in the depths of your dreamy blue eyes. 
 
 One word by your lips softly spoken, 
 Were better by far than all valentines are, 
 
 No matter how costly the token. 
 
 I ask not a missive with arrow-pierced hearts, 
 
 And lovers' knots tied a la Cupid, 
 With typewritten trash and poetical hash 
 
 Served up by the witty or stupid ; 
 One brief billet-doux is all that I crave, 
 
 A note of your own sweet inditing, 
 A crisp little line to say you'll be mine, 
 
 Inscribed in your own dear handwriting. 
 
SERIOUS AND SENTIMENTAL 23 
 
 The Leafless Tree 
 
 Amid the blasts of winter's wrath, 
 
 With arms outstretched and bare, 
 Oi all its verdant glory shorn — 
 
 The picture of despair — 
 Alone, forsaken, on the plain, 
 
 Stands now the leafless tree, 
 A monument of what has been 
 
 And what again will be. 
 
 When clothed in lavish robes of green, 
 
 Beneath its welcome shade, 
 All through the sunny summer days. 
 
 The merry children played ; 
 And oft, in balmy moonlight nights, 
 
 Beneath its screening boughs 
 Have loving lads and lassies paused 
 
 To breathe their tender vows. 
 
 Now bare it stands, unsought by all 
 
 Who once its shelter knew ; 
 For outward glory, when 'tis gone, 
 
 Leaves one, of friends, but {q.sn. 
 Still bravely stands the tree upright. 
 
 Defying winter's chill. 
 For hearts of oak are far too strong 
 
 For winter's storms to kill. 
 
24 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Old tree, the dreary days will pass, 
 
 And spring will come again ; 
 And in the joy of bursting bud 
 
 Will vanish winter's pain. 
 One heart still loves thy leafless form, 
 
 For in it I can see 
 A monument of what has been 
 
 And what again will be. 
 
SERIOUS AND SENTIMENTAL 25 
 
 Keep Singing Your Song 
 
 Some days must be dark, and some nights must be 
 
 dreary ; 
 Some roads must be rough, and some ways must be 
 weary ; 
 But never despair ; 
 Some days will be fair ; 
 Just breathe a sweet song of good cheer on the air ; 
 Press steadily, faithfully, ever along : 
 Keep singing your song ; keep singing your song. 
 
 No day, howe'er dark, but your song will make 
 
 brighter, 
 No burden so heavy but it will grow lighter, 
 If, gentle and clear. 
 Your glad notes of cheer 
 Flow out from a heart that is true and sincere. 
 Press on with a will, and your music prolong : 
 Keep singing your song ; keep singing your song. 
 
 Keep singing your song; keep the sweet music 
 
 ringing ; 
 Some brother distressed may take heart at your 
 
 singing ; 
 
26 - JUST JINGLES 
 
 Some soul by the way, 
 O'ercome in the fray, 
 Some wandering one from the path gone astray, 
 The music may hear and be cheered and made 
 
 strong : 
 Keep singing your song ; keep singing your song. 
 
SONGS OF NATURE AND 
 THE SEASONS 
 
SONGS OF NATURE AND 
 THE SEASONS 
 
 The Seasons 
 
 When springtime's sunshine tints the vale 
 
 And gilds the mountain's splendor, 
 And birds are calling to their mates 
 
 In notes so soft and tender, — 
 When springtime's warmth into the earth 
 
 Is slowly, softly creeping, 
 And, gently touching hidden flowers, 
 
 Awakes them from their sleeping, — 
 'Tis then my soul is filled with joy. 
 
 My mouth is filled with singing, 
 My heart is full and running o'er 
 
 With pleasures life is bringing. 
 
 When summer's sun and summer's rain 
 Have ripened springtime sowing, 
 
 When golden grain and waving grass 
 I see the toilers mowing, 
 
 When browsing herds seek shady nooks, 
 And 'neath green trees are resting, 
 
 31 
 
32 JUST JINGLES 
 
 And when the birds their mates have found 
 And on the branch are nesting, — 
 
 'Tis then I praise fair Nature's ways 
 For her most lavish giving, 
 
 'Tis then I feel a thrilling joy — 
 The joy of simply living. 
 
 When autumn comes with garnered sheaves, 
 
 And storehouse filled to bursting. 
 With purple grape and mellow fruit, 
 
 And cider for the thirsting, 
 And gaudy tree with crimson leaf. 
 
 And corn all ripe for cutting, 
 And boys and girls — and squirrels too — 
 
 All eager to go nutting, — 
 'Tis then I feel a well of joy 
 
 Within my bosom springing ; 
 I raise my voice and heart in thanks 
 
 For gifts that autumn's bringing. 
 
 When winter's chill is in the air 
 
 And winter's winds are sighing, 
 When on the hill and o'er the vale 
 
 The drifting snow is lying. 
 When on the street I hear the noise 
 
 Of merry sleighbells jingling, 
 And when I breathe that bracing air 
 
 That sets the blood a-tingling, — 
 
SONGS OF NATURE AND THE SEASONS 33 
 
 'Tis then I breathe a prayer of praise, 
 
 And tune my voice to singing' 
 In thanks for mercies past and those 
 
 The future bright is bringing. 
 
34 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Autiinin Days 
 
 Who calls 'em "melancholy days, the saddest of 
 
 the year ' ' ? 
 Why, land o' sakes ! the autumn's full an' runnin' 
 
 o'er with cheer. 
 The garnered crops air in the barn, the apples in 
 
 the bin. 
 An', like the "lilies of the field," we neither toil nor 
 spin. 
 Bring out the old corn popper, 
 
 Put apples on the table ; 
 We'll dance an' sing an' eat our fill — 
 Take comfort while we're able. 
 
 Throw fuel on the roarin' blaze ; beside its ruddy 
 
 glow 
 We'll listen to entrancin' tales of magic "long 
 
 ago." 
 Put nuts to roastin' on the hearth ; invite the neigh- 
 bors in ; 
 Take down the fiddle, strike the tune, an' let the 
 fun begin. 
 Shake up the old corn popper 
 
 An' keep the corn a-toastin' ; 
 Rake out the coals upon the hearth 
 An' put the nuts to roastin'. 
 
SONGS OF NATURE AND THE SEASONS 35 
 
 The turkey's in the roastin' pan, the chicken's in 
 
 the pot, 
 The sparerib's in the oven ; an', when the table's 
 
 sot, 
 I'd Hke to find the feller sharp enough to find a 
 
 trace 
 O' sad or melancholy days a-hangin' round my 
 place. 
 Jes' pass the meat an' taters ; 
 
 Eat hearty an' be jolly ; 
 With friends to greet, an' lots to eat, 
 Who cares for melancholy ? 
 
36 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Fair Time 
 
 'Tis fair time and spare time, the farmer's time to 
 
 play, 
 And Labor dons his best attire and takes a holiday. 
 There's father with his Sunday suit, and mother 
 
 perk and prim, 
 And Jonathan the hired man — the hired girl with 
 him. 
 Oh, my ! look at the })umpkins — 
 
 Nuggets of Klondike size ! 
 Their yellow coats remind our throats 
 Of mother's luscious pies. 
 
 'Tis fair time and rare time, and time to take a rest 
 And lay on Labor's altar of nature's fruits the best : 
 Bring sleek and blooded cattle, and steeds of royal 
 
 line. 
 And sheep and pigs of pedigree, and fowls with 
 plumage fine. 
 Oh, my ! look at that turkey ! 
 Thanksgiving's just ahead ; 
 Alive he's fine, but how divine 
 He'll look when he is dead. 
 
SONGS OF NATURE AND THE SEASONS 37 
 
 'Tis fair time and stare time — time to feast the 
 
 eyes — 
 Time to gaze about you in wonder and surprise — 
 Time, ye thrifty housewives of neighborhood re- 
 pute, 
 To bring your golden butter, preserves, and pickled 
 fruit. 
 My ! look at those canned peaches ! 
 
 Sakes ! gaze at that cream cheese ! 
 Who cannot find things to his mind 
 Is difficult to please. 
 
 'Tis fair time and spare time, the farmer's time to 
 
 play. 
 And Labor dons his best attire and takes a holiday — 
 A festival of harvest, a brilliant, rare display 
 Of cunning, skill, and patient toil, spread out in 
 grand array. 
 Here, then, is to the farmer. 
 The monarch of the soil : 
 May nature bless with rare success, 
 And recompense his toil. 
 
38 JUST JINGLES 
 
 December 
 
 Oh, December is a jolly month a-brimmin' o'er 
 
 with joys — 
 With skatin' an' with sleighin' fer all the girls an' 
 
 boys, 
 With the music of their laughter, an' the merry 
 
 bells thet jingle, 
 An' the watchin' an' the waitin' fer thet jolly old 
 
 Kris Kringle. 
 
 Oh, the frosty flakes a-flyin' an' a-flittin' through 
 
 the air, 
 An' the hurry an' the scurry of the cutters ev'ry- 
 
 where, 
 An' the bracin', bitin' breezes thet jest sets the 
 
 blood atingle, 
 An' the watchin' an' the waitin' fer thet jolly old 
 
 Kris Kringle ! 
 
 An' oh, 'tis in December thet all the kinfolks dear 
 
 Drift in at the old homestead to partake of Christ- 
 mas cheer ; 
 
 An' the music of their laughter an' the noise of 
 chatter mingle 
 
 As they sit before the fireplace waitin' fer thet old 
 Kris Kringle. 
 
SONGS OF NATURE AND THE SEASONS 39 
 
 Oh, jest give me old December with its bluster an 
 
 its blow, 
 With the hills an' valleys sparklin' with their cov- 
 
 erin' of snow, 
 With its crisp an' frosty atmosphere, thet makes 
 
 the warm blood tingle, 
 An' the watchin' an' the waitin' fer thet jolly old 
 
 Kris Kringle. 
 
40 JUST JINGLES 
 
 IV inter 
 
 The frost is on the tree twig, 
 
 The frost is on the pane ; 
 The grimy street is covered 
 
 With clean white snow again ; 
 The bells begin to jingle, 
 
 The sleighs begin to glide ; 
 The boys and girls get out their sleds 
 To 
 
 take 
 
 a 
 
 litde 
 
 slide. 
 
 The sled flings snow before it 
 
 As down the hill it skips ; 
 The breeze flies swiftly by them, 
 
 And nose and ear it nips ; 
 Their cheeks get red and redder, 
 
 They shout with might and main ; 
 They quickly reach the bottom, 
 
 again, 
 up 
 back 
 climb 
 Then 
 
SONGS OF NATURE AND THE SEASONS 41 
 
 'Tis thus in life's long journey: 
 
 In labor, as in play, 
 We seldom find a level road 
 
 To take us on our way ; 
 We've hills to climb with toiling. 
 
 And oft a level plain, — 
 
 A valley and a mountain : 
 
 and 
 up down 
 
 'Tis again. 
 
42 JUST JINGLES 
 
 A Springtime Song 
 
 Ah ! the birds are swinging, singing mid the 
 
 nodding, bending trees, 
 And the echo of their sweet notes gently floats 
 
 adown the breeze. 
 There is hint of mint and myrtle in the aromatic air ; 
 There is stream and gleam of sunshine; there is 
 
 beauty everywhere. 
 
 All around the sound of springtime falls entrancing 
 
 on the ear, 
 And my heart is madly, gladly leaping to the music 
 
 clear. 
 There is time and rhyme and sweetness in the 
 
 happy springtime song 
 That is sounding and resounding and abounding 
 
 all day long. 
 
 Winter's snow and blow have vanished; and the 
 
 world begins anew, 
 And, replete with sweet profusion, brings her many 
 
 charms to view ; 
 And she wakes and takes the sweetness that to 
 
 springtime months belong, 
 And she weaves the balm and beauty into one grand, 
 
 tuneful song. 
 
SONGS OF NATURE AND THE SEASONS 43 
 
 Two Songs of May 
 
 Daisies and buttercups, fields full of clover, 
 Grassy green billows in which to roll over. 
 
 Days full of sunshine— sweet songs by the way,— 
 Who lacks a welcome for bright, sunny May? 
 
 Orchards of bloom wet with dews of the morning- 
 Sweet, liquid gems, their rare beauty adorning,— 
 
 White blossoms, pink blossoms, modest or gay,— 
 Who lacks a welcome for sweet-scented May? 
 
 Spice of the woodland adown the breeze drifting, 
 Health-giving sunlight through leafy screens sift- 
 ing, 
 
 Luxuriant landscapes in charming array,— 
 Who lacks a welcome for rare-tinted May ? 
 
 Brooks running over with laughter and singing, 
 Echoes gone mad, back the glad music flinging. 
 
 Sunshine and perfume and song all the day,— 
 Who lacks a welcome for musical May? 
 
44 JUST JINGLES 
 
 II 
 
 A BURST of melody divine 
 
 From where the leafy branches sway, 
 A glimpse of blue — sweet violets — 
 
 Amid the grasses by the way, 
 A breath of perfume on the breeze, 
 
 The vagrant brook's soft, liquid lay, — 
 And this is May. 
 
 A sheeny glimmer on the lake, 
 
 Where soft and dancing sunbeams play, 
 
 A hazy, mazy, shifting cloud 
 Of giddy, basking insects gay ; 
 
 A medley rare of scent and sound, 
 A dream of sweetness all the day, — 
 And this is May. 
 
46 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Song of the Plow 
 
 Pierce the earth. O point of steel ! 
 Bring the fertile soil to light ; 
 Hide the stubble whereon grew 
 Last year's bounty, from the sight; 
 
 Cover all the past from view ; 
 
 We are seeking treasures new. 
 
 Pierce the earth and cleave the turf; 
 
 Roll the rich soil from the share ; 
 
 Let the earthy odors rise 
 
 Like sweet incense on the air ; 
 
 Loose the hidden powers below — 
 Powers that make the rich grains grow. 
 
 Scar the earth, O shining steel ! 
 
 You will labor not in vain, 
 
 Though your marks will hidden be 
 
 By the fields of waving grain ; 
 
 Earth, like hearts, must furrowed be. 
 Ere the flowers or fruit we see. 
 
SONGS OF NATURE AND THE SEASONS 47 
 
 The Lake at Sunset 
 
 The glaring sun has sought the mists that hover in 
 the west ; 
 
 The wanton wind has tired of play and gently sunk 
 to "rest ; 
 
 The lake lies placid mid the fields and rugged, tree- 
 clad hills, 
 
 Fed by the river of the plain and singing mountain 
 rills. 
 
 Belated swallows gaily skim its waters clear and 
 bright ; 
 
 And far across its calm expanse the golden, glan- 
 cing light — 
 
 The parting kiss of the warm sun— spreads glory 
 on the scene, 
 
 And tints with gold the verdant tinge cast by the 
 forest green. 
 
 The sun slips gendy out of sight adown the western 
 
 sky, 
 And darker grow the shadows that upon the waters 
 
 lie ; 
 The swallows seek their forest homes and chirp 
 
 themselves to rest. 
 And birds of night come forth to sport above the 
 
 lake's calm breast. 
 
48 JUST JINGLES 
 
 The gold fades from the sunset sky ; the bright stars 
 
 gleam and glow, 
 And view their sparkling, mirrored forms within 
 
 the lake below ; 
 A passing breeze the calm lake stirs, with tender 
 
 touch and light ; 
 And rippling echoes seem to breathe the world a 
 
 a fond good-night. 
 
NARRATIVE AND REMINISCENT 
 
NARRATIVE AND REMINISCENT 
 
 s 
 
 Though tidings ill must oftentimes intrude, 
 The messenger ne'er earns our gratitude. 
 
 Beneath a purpled canopy, all day 
 
 Upon his dais Egypt's monarch lay ; 
 
 And from the palace top, with eager eyes 
 
 He watched the point where earth and eastern skies 
 
 Seemed joined as one, for there would first appear 
 
 The messenger, to pour into his ear 
 
 The news of battle. Half the day had passed 
 
 When from the east a herald came at last : 
 
 A tiny speck first, 'gainst the azure sky ; 
 
 A blot of black anon ; and then, drawn nigh, 
 
 A gaunt and fainting form that, swaying, still 
 
 Pressed on to bear the message, good or ill. 
 
 53 
 
54 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Up sprang the eager monarch from his bed 
 And met the faithful man. " What news ? " he said : 
 "Are Egypt's hosts triumphant in the fray?" 
 With drooping head the herald answered, " Nay." 
 * ' Nay? Dog ! and bringest thou that word to me?' ' 
 "E'en so, O king, for Egypt's armies flee." 
 The angry king rained curses on his head — 
 A flash of steel — the messenger lay dead. 
 
 The day grew old, when, lo ! another came 
 With message of defeat : his fate the same. 
 And when the shadows stretched across the plain, 
 Another still was numbered with the slain. 
 
 The shadows thickened. Night succeeded day. 
 Beneath the monarch's gaze, all silent, lay 
 The sleeping city ; black the clouds o'erhead. 
 And by his side, in calm repose, the dead. 
 The weary hours passed slowly, one by one. 
 Until the noon of night. At last he hears 
 Approaching steps. Another herald nears. 
 The steps are not of haste ; but measured, slow, 
 They firmly fall upon the flags below. 
 The anxious watcher rises to his feet 
 And forward steps, the messenger to meet. 
 "What message bring ye?" "This: The tide hath 
 
 turned. 
 And Egypt's hosts the enemy have spurned." 
 
NARRATiyE AND REMINISCENT 55 
 
 The monarch from his arm a bracelet takes : 
 "Wear this," he cries; "a bauble, but it makes 
 The wearer henceforth bearer of my cup. 
 And to a rank exalted lifts him up." 
 
 Who brings us welcome news we aye commend, 
 And call him by the sacred name of friend. 
 
56 JUST JINGLES 
 
 The Old Home 
 
 You talk about your palaces 
 
 Fixed out in modern style, 
 With roofs of slate an' brovvnstone fronts 
 
 An' floors all laid in tile, 
 With water hot, an' water cold, 
 
 An' steam instead of fire. 
 An' all the modern gimcrack things 
 
 A body could desire : 
 Them kind o' buildin's are all right, 
 
 But somehow don't tempt me; 
 I like the old-style houses best, 
 
 Jest like they used to be. 
 
 Give me the old-time cabin home 
 
 Amid its bed o' flowers, 
 Where first I saw the light o' day 
 
 An' spent my boyhood's hours. 
 The fields o' green grass all around 
 
 In which I used to roll. 
 An' let the streamin' sunlight warm 
 
 Shine through upon my soul ; 
 An' then the tangled wild wood near. 
 
 The air so pure an' free, 
 A hundred thousand birds or so 
 
 A-singin' songs to me. 
 
Give me the old-time cabin home 
 Amid its bed o' flowers. 
 
NARRATIVE AND REMINISCENT 57 
 
 Oh, palaces ain't in it much 
 
 Along o' my old home, 
 With meadows wide on every side, 
 
 An' room to romp and roam. 
 I wouldn't trade the balmy air 
 
 An' scent o' flowers so sweet 
 Fer all the brownstone palaces 
 
 Upon a city street. 
 It sets my heart to achin' like 
 
 Fer childhood's days once more, 
 An' a sight o' that old cabin, 
 
 With posies 'bout the door. 
 
58 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Memorial 
 
 A SONG in the fulness of springtime ; 
 
 A tribute of love to the brave ; 
 A wealth of God's fair, fragrant blossoms 
 
 To lay on each dead hero's grave; 
 A nation all eager to honor, 
 
 On this our Memorial Day, 
 The soldiers who sleep 'neath the roses 
 
 We shower o'er the blue and the gray. 
 
 We give you a wreath of God's blossoms ; 
 
 And over each dear, sacred grave 
 The banner you fought for and died for 
 
 Shall proudly and peacefully wave. 
 We have pride for the land that you saved us ; 
 
 We have love for the flag that you bore ; 
 We've a tear, and a sigh, and a heartache 
 
 For the brave lads we'll see nevermore. 
 
 We give you a wreath of God's blossoms, 
 
 And we murmur, "God bless you !" and go. 
 The love and devotion we offer 
 
 Disturbs not your resting below. 
 Then sleep in the soil you made sacred 
 
 By the blood which you gallantly shed, 
 While we breathe benedictions above you 
 
 And weep o'er the ones that are dead. i 
 
 4 
 
NARRATIVE AND REMINISCENT 59 
 
 Oh To Be a Boy Again! 
 
 Oh to be a boy again, 
 
 Now fishing time has come ; 
 To get away from driving toil 
 
 And traffic's busy hum ; 
 To take my Hne and hickory pole, 
 
 And sit beside the stream, 
 And let my fish line idly float 
 
 The while I sit and dream ! 
 
 Oh to be a boy again, 
 
 Now May has come once more ; 
 To roam the fields in search of flowers 
 
 As in the days of yore ; 
 To scour the wood and climb the trees 
 
 And chase the nimble squirrel ; 
 To just escape, for one brief day, 
 
 From business' dizzy whirl ! 
 
 Oh to be a boy again, 
 
 And old companions see — 
 The boys and girls of childhood's days, 
 
 Who were so dear to me ; 
 To revel in the old-time sports, 
 
 And breathe the balmy air 
 Of shady groves and running streams, 
 
 Away from toil and care ! 
 
60 JUST JINGLES 
 
 The Horse Fiddle 
 
 'Spect the folks in Genesee 
 (Thet's where my home usto be) 
 Haven't all on 'em forgot 
 (Some scart yit, as like as not) 
 Time lis boys, one summer's night, 
 Give the village sech a fright. 
 
 Back o' where the village stands 
 Air the elevated lands 
 Known as Langvvorthy's Big Hill, 
 Owned by him 'at owned the mill 
 Down by the other side o' town, 
 Where his youngest boy got drown. 
 
 There was me, Dan, Tom an' Bill, 
 Sam an' Joe dumb up thet hill 
 With a great big box ; an' Dan 
 Had some rosin in a can. 
 Time thet box was to the top 
 We was tired enough to stop. 
 
NARRATIVE AND REMINISCENT 61 
 
 Thet boss fiddle ! Ever make 
 One? Tell ye how. You jest take 
 An' put some rosin on a box, 
 Then draw a rail acrost it. Jocks ! 
 'Twill make a noise to wake the dead 
 An' make a live man lose his head. 
 
 'Twas 'long 'bout ten o'clock, I s'pose, 
 An' folks was seekin' their repose, 
 When fust we drew thet rosined rail 
 Acrost the box. My ! what a wail 
 The old thing give ! Then we pitched in 
 An' made thet fiddle howl like sin. 
 
 Down in the town, I heard it said, 
 The folks come tumblin' out o' bed, 
 An' some on 'em begun to pray, 
 Thinkin' fer sure 'twas jedgment day, 
 An' some ran wildly in the street 
 In scant attire an' bare o' feet. 
 
 One lad, who wasn't in our fun, 
 Had started home up Woodchuck Run, 
 When thet weird wailin' smote his ear 
 An' nearly stopped his heart with fear. 
 If 't hadn't been fer lack o' breath, 
 I believe he'd run himself to death. 
 
62 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Old Boozy Ben was well bowled up, 
 But he foreswore the poison cup, 
 
 Said he'd ne'er drink another drop 
 If thet blamed thing 'ud only stop, 
 
 An' went home soberer, they say. 
 Than e'er he had fer many a day. 
 
 Fer nigh an' hour, er thereabout, 
 We kept it up, an' then dug out ; 
 
 But half the folks set up all night 
 A-prayin' fer the mornin' light, 
 
 An' some there be thet to this day 
 
 Think Satan came, thet night, their way. 
 
NARRATIVE AND REMINISCENT 
 
 The Old Meadow Brook 
 
 Sometimes now I get to thinking of the rippHng 
 meadow brook, 
 
 Where in childhood's days I angled with the worm- 
 bait-hidden hook ; 
 
 And I seem to hear the music of the pebble-fretted 
 stream 
 
 Floating o'er the gulf of lost years, like a gentle, 
 soothing dream. 
 
 I can see myself, an urchin, with my limber green 
 birch pole. 
 
 Stealing cautious-like and silent to some well-known 
 fishing hole, 
 
 And with bated breath, all eager, drop my fish- 
 enticing hook 
 
 In the purling, curling waters of that dear old 
 meadow brook. 
 
 And the trout, so shy and wary, with his speckled, 
 
 glist'ning side, 
 When from out his secret hiding place my wriggling 
 
 bait he spied, 
 Would dart with lightning swiftness, and would 
 
 gobble up my hook, 
 And then find himself jerked quickly from the 
 
 laughing meadow brook. 
 
64 JUST JINGLES 
 
 And, when I had tired of anghng, and the fish 
 
 would bite no more, 
 I would quickly slip from out my clothes, and leave 
 
 them on the shore 
 The while I went in swimming in some deep and 
 
 watery nook 
 Of the cool, refreshing waters of the cleansing 
 
 meadow brook. 
 
 Ah ! the years have swift been speeding since those 
 
 happy days of yore. 
 And now other merry urchins play upon the grassy 
 
 shore ; 
 But my heart is filled with longing once again to 
 
 stand and look 
 On the dancing, gleaming waters of the dear old 
 
 meadow brook. 
 
NARRATIVE AND REMINISCENT 65 
 
 Uncle Dan 
 
 Uncle Dan is long at rest ; ruined stands the an- 
 cient mill ; 
 
 Passed from memory, almost, as the rest of us soon 
 will. 
 
 All the boys loved Uncle Dan ; always cheerful, 
 always gay, 
 
 And was ever quick to join and to lead our child- 
 ish play. 
 
 Time had bent his manly form ; white his head, made 
 whiter still 
 
 By the sifting, drifting dust of the grain ground in 
 his mill. 
 
 What a wonder was that mill, with its busy wheels 
 
 awhirl, 
 Driven by the great turbine by the waters set 
 
 atwirl ! 
 What a pleasure to explore all its dusty crannies 
 
 queer. 
 Pausing in some dark recess, with an awe akin to 
 
 fear, 
 At a row of dust-white posts, like some grim and 
 
 ghostly clan 
 Waiting eager to entrap either us or Uncle Dan ! 
 
66 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Ruined stands the ancient mill ; Uncle Dan has 
 
 gone to rest, 
 And the violet and rose long have blossomed o'er 
 
 his breast ; 
 And the boys are scattered far, like the leaves 
 
 before the breeze 
 That still haunts the old mill site, sighing sadly 
 
 'mong the trees. 
 Still the idle, wanton stream frets the pebble-studded 
 
 shore. 
 Where the whirling wheels once woke the glad 
 
 echoes with their roar. 
 
 When I reach the golden shore, I doubt not that I 
 
 shall see. 
 In some quiet, sheltered nook, with the children 
 
 'bout his knee, 
 Good, kind-hearted Uncle Dan, with his honest 
 
 face aglow, 
 Happy up there with the boys, as he always was 
 
 below ; 
 And when I select my place up in Heaven, if I can, 
 I will stop among the boys, by the side of Uncle 
 
 Dan. 
 
NARRATIVE AND REMINISCENT 67 
 
 Old-time Days 
 
 There's a world o' pleasant mem'ries cluster round 
 my youthful days, 
 
 An' it sort o' sets me sighin' fer the good old-fash- 
 ioned ways 
 
 Thet were common 'mong the people when my 
 youthful bride an' me 
 
 Launched our bark upon the billows of life's matri- 
 monial sea. 
 
 We tuck on a quite a cargo in thet little ship o' ours, 
 But it wasn't gold nor silver, but was mostly love 
 
 an' flowers ; 
 We'd a deck load of ambition an' of hope an' 
 
 persevere. 
 An' while freighted with such cargo our small craft 
 
 wa'n't hard to steer. 
 
 I suppose the people now days at our simple ways 
 
 would smile. 
 We gave most our thoughts to comfort, an' but 
 
 little heed to style. 
 Folks weren't courted fer position, nor fer wealth, 
 
 nor yet fer birth, 
 But fer gentleness o' manner, an' fer honesty an' 
 
 worth. 
 
68 JUST JINGLES 
 
 When we got an invitation to some social or infair, 
 Didn't have to stop an' wonder whiche'er outfit 
 
 we should wear : 
 No ! the matter of our wardrobe was the least of all 
 
 our woes ; 
 All we had to do in them days was put on our 
 
 "other clothes." 
 
 Our good neighbors wasn't critical about our style 
 
 o' dress, 
 An' about departed ancestors they cared a good 
 
 deal less. 
 Our society four hundred took in every one we 
 
 knew, 
 Irrespective of his station, if his heart was only 
 
 true. 
 
 Yis, I like to let my mem'ry wander back to days 
 o' yore. 
 
 An' I find myself a-wishin' thet them times were 
 here once more ; 
 
 Though they lacked the style an' polish, still I can- 
 not help but praise 
 
 Them 'ere simple, gentle manners of the good old- 
 fashioned days. 
 
NARRATIl^E AND REMINISCENT 69 
 
 AbdallaJis Lesson 
 
 Abdallah, pious above all mankind 
 
 Who dwelt in Mecca, morning, noon, and night 
 His voice to Allah raised in prayer. Contrite 
 
 Was he, and humble — pure in mind. 
 
 Inspired of Heaven he : not so his wife ; 
 She daily stood the market place within. 
 And bought and sold, nor deemed it any sin 
 
 To mingle there in scenes of toil and strife. 
 
 While thus he prayed, she earned the food he ate ; 
 But oft he reprimanded her. Said he : 
 "Thou shouldst devote thy life to prayer, like me. 
 
 Serve not thyself; Allah, alone, is great." 
 
 At last his words sank deep into her heart. 
 
 Said she : "While Allah shall my poor life spare, 
 My voice to him I'll raise in holy prayer. 
 
 Henceforth of righteousness I am a part." 
 
 Abdallah' s heart was glad ; and, side by side. 
 They prayed until the sun in heaven was high. 
 Then hunger to the pious man drew nigh 
 
 And loudly clamored to be satisfied. 
 
70 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Abdallah's wife still prayed : no food was there. 
 
 The good man's soul was vexed. '"Tis plain," 
 he said, 
 
 "That even piety must needs be fed. 
 And man cannot exist alone by prayer." 
 
 And thus he learned, "Faith without works is 
 dead." 
 And, profiting by what he learned, straightway 
 He went to work, and prospered from that day, 
 
 And thanks to Allah gave for daily bread. 
 
NARRATIVE AND REMINISCENT 
 
 Bill 
 
 Bill was a coward — thet all of us said — 
 Wasn't a single brave hair in his head. 
 Why! don't you think? he fainted dead away 
 Jest watchin' on 'em kill a cat one day. 
 An' when it come hog-killin' time, he hid — 
 Bill did. 
 
 Boys usto try fer to git Bill to fight ; 
 But Bill, he wouldn't, coz he said 'twa'n't right ; 
 But we allowed 'twas coz he was afraid, 
 An' we would call 'im "baby" and "ole maid"; 
 But he would say, "Talk boys, if it does you 
 good" — 
 
 Bill would. 
 
 Me 'n' Tom 'n' Phil 'n' Joe hed heaps o' fun 
 A-coonin' melons nights. Would Bill tech one? 
 Not much ! he said 'twas stealin', but we thought 
 'Tvvas jest coz he was 'fraid o' gettin' caught. 
 Thieves didn't go to Heaven when they was dead, 
 Bill said. 
 
72 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Found out at last, though, thet air Bill could fight. 
 When we was pesterin' a dog one night. 
 Bill snatched away a battered ole tin pail 
 Thet we was splicin' onto thet pup's tail. 
 An' fought ! He knocked out me 'n' Tom 'n' Phil — 
 Did Bill. 
 
 Guess a'ter all Bill isn't much afraid. 
 He's cur'ous like, but thet's the way he's made. 
 He won't let fellers pick on boys thet's small. 
 Or dogs. He's tender-hearted — thet is all. 
 Wa'n't tender, though, 'ith me 'n' Tom 'n' Phil — 
 Wa'n't Bill. 
 
NARRATIVE AND REMINISCENT 
 
 Uncle Mat 
 
 Old and feeble and bent and gray, 
 
 Visage furrowed by grief and pain, 
 Feebly tottering along life's way, 
 
 Staying his steps with his broomstick cane, 
 Tanned by sun his wrinkled skin, 
 
 Matted his hair 'neath his brimless hat, 
 Bristling stubble upon his chin, — 
 
 Poor old wandering Uncle Mat. 
 
 Clouded his brain with weight of woe. 
 
 Haunted by sorrows and griefs of the past — 
 Pleasures departed long ago. 
 
 And happy days too sweet to last : 
 Trouble dwelt on his time-marked face ; 
 
 Grief on his wretched visage sat; — 
 Wandering ever from place to place, — 
 
 Poor old demented Uncle Mat. 
 
 Uncle Mat fell asleep one day, 
 
 And dreamed of the happy days of old 
 When children round his knee did play, 
 
 Ere friends proved false and theworld turned cold- 
 Of the happy home and the loving wife 
 
 That were his ere trouble his woes begat ; 
 He smiled as he dreamed of that blissful life, — 
 
 Weary and wretched Uncle Mat. 
 
74 JUST JINGLES 
 
 So sweet was the dream, he awoke no more ; 
 
 Peacefully sank to his long, long rest. 
 All of his troubles and travels are o'er, 
 
 And he lies by the ones he loved the best ; 
 And the grave, kept green by the sun and rain, 
 In that quiet, peaceful, restful plat. 
 Shields from all trouble, grief, and pain 
 The worn-out body of Uncle Mat. 
 
NARRATIVE AND REMINISCENT 75 
 
 /In Unlearned Lesson 
 
 A SAGE there was, in days of old, 
 
 Rich — not in paltry land or gold — 
 
 But, blessed with wealth from wisdom's store, 
 
 His mind with wholesome truths ran o'er. 
 
 From far and near there daily came 
 
 Those intellectually lame, 
 
 And he right gladly, without price. 
 
 Gave helpful words and good advice. 
 
 One day, among the rest, there came 
 A man unlearned, Pambo by name, 
 Who, like the others, wisdom sought. 
 And asked that sacred truths be taught. 
 "Teach me," he said, "some psalm, I pray, 
 To guide my conduct day by day." 
 
 Then from the shelf the wise man took. 
 
 With reverence, the holy book. 
 
 And opening, began to read ; 
 
 And thus he read : " I will take heed 
 
 Unto my ways, that I sin not 
 
 With mine own tongue." Thus far he got 
 
 When Pambo bade him read no more. 
 
 " I will retire to think this o'er 
 
 And learn this lesson first," said he, 
 
 ' ' Then once again will come to thee. 
 
76 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Swift sped the months, full half a score, 
 Yet to the wise man came no more 
 The knowledge seeker ; but one day 
 They chanced to meet upon the way. 
 "How now?" the wise man to him said, 
 "Thy psalm remaineth still unread. 
 Canst thou not come and lend thine ear 
 Still other words of truth to hear?" 
 But Pambo gravely shook his head : 
 "Not so, my worthy sage," he said; 
 "My lesson still remains undone; 
 I seek not yet another one." 
 
 When half a century rolled by, 
 Yet likewise Pambo made reply. 
 
hIARRATlVE AND REMINISCENT 77 
 
 /Itmt Ke^iah 
 
 Old Aunt Keziah is laid away — 
 Jest attended her fun'ral today. 
 Cur'ousest woman I ever see, 
 Allers a-sayin', "Dutell! lame!" 
 But never excited er surprised. 
 Whatever had happened, she'd surmised 
 That air same thing would happen thet way. 
 "La me! jest as I thought," she'd say. 
 
 Onst, when the cars run over her cow, 
 
 Some o' the neighbors, says they, "Ah! now 
 
 Old Aunt Keziah will have a spell." 
 
 But all that she said was "La me ! du tell ! 
 
 I've been expectin' it all the spring, 
 
 Fer thet air cow was a careless thing. 
 
 She was the poorest cow I had : 
 
 'Twasn't old Brindle ; fer thet I'm glad." 
 
 There come a big storm one summer day, — 
 
 Carried the roof of her barn away. 
 
 "Now she will surely excited be," 
 
 The neighbors cried ; but she said, "La me ! 
 
 What a blessin' 'tis ! fer don't you know? 
 
 I'd said this week thet ruff must go, 
 
 Fer rotten 'twas an' needed repair. 
 
 It's done me a kindness, I declare ! " 
 
78 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Death came an' laid his hand on her head : 
 "I have come to claim my own," he said. 
 But she only said, **La me ! du tell ! 
 I've been expectin' ye quite a spell." 
 
 'K 'K 'K '> 
 
 When entered she the City of Love 
 
 An' saw the glorious sights above, 
 
 I venture to say she said, "La me ! 
 
 Heaven's jest the place I thought it would be," 
 
}JARRATIVE AND REMINISCENT 
 
 Skipper Iresoff' 
 
 In that green plat where the silent lie. 
 The village of Marblehead hard by, 
 Where ever is heard the ocean's roar, 
 As its waves belabor the rugged shore. 
 In a grave mid mossy, crumbling stones, 
 There rest today poor Ireson's bones — 
 Old Ben Ireson,t victim of wrong. 
 Mistaken in deed, misjudged in song. 
 
 Crushed was his spirit, broken his heart,— 
 Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart 
 By his neighbors of Marblehead. 
 
 One pen that thrilled the world with its spell, 
 That wrote many truths and wrote them well. 
 Deceived by rumor, one ill-timed day, 
 Was sadly led into error's way. 
 Let mine be the hand and mine the pen 
 To right that wrong in the eyes of men. 
 
 *When the poet Whittier wrote the story of "Skipper Ireson's 
 Ride " he was not aware of the fact that some of the sailors, upon 
 their' deathbeds, had made confessions- that cleared Ireson of the 
 charge of having willinglv left the crew of the Active, of Portland to 
 perish for want of assistance — a charge that hung over him to the day 
 of his death. To Captain Samuel A. Fabens, of Salem, Massachusetts, 
 and Samuel Rhodes, Junior, of Washington, District of Columbia a 
 former resident of Salem, I am indebted for the facts recorded in this 
 
 ^^^Tireson's name was "Ben," and not " Flud," as represented in 
 Whittier's narrative. 
 
80 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Let Skipper Ireson arise again, 
 And tell the story in language plain — 
 That bitter tale of a broken heart, 
 When, tarred and feathered, he rode the cart 
 Through the village of Marblehead. 
 
 *' 'Twas a boomin' sea an' wicked gale, 
 An' the Betty, bearin' all 'er sail, 
 Was leavin' astarn the Cape Cod light, 
 When the Active, o' Portland, hove in sight. 
 She had run 'er distress to top o' the mast. 
 An' Gibbons, he calls, 'We're sinkin' fast!' 
 Says I : ' My men, here's work to do ! 
 We'll drop aour anchor an' just lay to. 
 An' when the wind an' sea go daown, 
 We'll take them fellaows straight into taown 
 To their famblies in Morblehead.* 
 
 << i Yer daft ! ' they cried. * Lay to in this sea 
 An' faounder aoursel's? No, no, not we ! 
 When ye talks o' that, we all rebels ; 
 Aour duty naow is to save aoursel's.' 
 An' spite o' my talk, an' efforts too, 
 I had to yield to that stubborn crew. 
 The Active an' Gibbons war left behind, 
 An' likewise, as well, my peace o' mind ; 
 An' my horrt seemed sinkin' too, that day, 
 Along o' that ship in Chaleur Bay, 
 As we sailed into Morblehead. 
 
NARRATIVE AND REMINISCENT 81 
 
 "But some war rescued — come home next day. 
 What did my caovvardly sailors say ? 
 ' We wanted to stop an' holp,' says they, 
 ' But old Ben Ireson had his way, 
 An' wouldn't allaow of aour turnin' back, 
 But left 'em to perish with the wrack.' 
 The folks believed 'em, an' thus it came 
 That I was loaded with scorn an' shame, 
 An' taunted an' currst for my horrd horrt, 
 Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt 
 By the people o' Morblehead. 
 
 "Yaas, torr'd an' futherr'd! Ah ! do ye ken 
 What cruel things are oft done by men? 
 I, who war allers praoud o' my name, 
 To thus be covered with scorn an' shame, 
 Jeered by the rabble, an' currst by all. 
 Despised an' hated by great an' small ! 
 Do ye wunner that I crept away. 
 An' shunned mankind from that bitter day? 
 Do ye wunner that it breaked my horrt — 
 Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt 
 By my neighbors o' Morblehead ? ' ' 
 
 Old Ben Ireson this many a day 
 Has beneath the turf been laid away ; 
 And the guilty sailors, at death's gate, 
 Confessed the wrong, but, alas ! too late. 
 
82 JUST JINGLES 
 
 All of our verses, all of our songs 
 
 Never can right poor Ireson's wrongs; 
 
 But to his memory I would give 
 
 These lines, that the right, with the wrong, may live 
 This, to the man with the broken heart, 
 Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart 
 Through the village of Marblehead. 
 
NARRATIVE AND REMINISCENT 83 
 
 The IVitches of Salem 
 
 Ah, the town was In terrible plight ! 
 Oh, how the people shivered with fright ! 
 Ha ! the dread objects that roamed the night. 
 When the witches came to Salem ! 
 
 The good people all turned white with fear, 
 As they met, the grewsome tales to hear, 
 Of the babes made sick, of the milk turned sour, 
 Of the broomstick rides at the midnight hour, 
 Of the cream, bewitched in the old stone churn, 
 That labor could not to butter turn, 
 O^ revels held in the forest deep, 
 When the saintly folks were in bed asleep, 
 Of the Evil One, who nightly came 
 To council hold with some ugly dame 
 Who'd sold her soul and was bound to do 
 Whatever the Devil wished her to ; 
 And the thousand other things they heard, 
 Of horrible Import, that occurred 
 When honest people were all in bed. 
 Filled their timid hearts and souls with dread. 
 The witches had come to Salem ! 
 
84 JUST JINGLES 
 
 The self-complacent and pompous squire 
 Of a sudden lost his stately air, 
 And cowered with fear when he walked at night, 
 E'en as some cowardly urchin might; 
 And the worthy judge, whose sober tread 
 Scarce jostled the wig upon his head, 
 His pace would quicken at close of day. 
 Lest night should o'ertake him on the way. 
 And the parson in his priestly gown, 
 Felt strangely queer when the sun went down ; 
 The governor, too, without a doubt. 
 Misgivings had when the light went out ; 
 And the common people all held their breath, 
 And shivered all night, half scared to death, — 
 When the witches came to Salem. 
 
 Steps should be taken, they all agreed, 
 That from this evil they might be freed ; 
 And so they met in the council hall. 
 And weighed the statements of one and all ; 
 And elders, and chiefs, and judges wise, 
 There evidence found — to their surprise — 
 That friends and neighbors of good repute. 
 Whose morals no man had dared dispute, 
 0( late had bargained their souls away. 
 And now were under the Devil's pay; 
 And those who had always loved the good 
 And lived the lives the righteous should. 
 
N^RRy^TIl^E AND REMINISCENT 85 
 
 Of a sudden found their chief delight 
 In mounting a broom at dead of night 
 And galloping madly to and fro 
 In company of the imps below. 
 They addled the milk and people's wits, 
 And gave the innocent children fits, 
 And carried on in various ways 
 That kept the good people in a daze, — 
 Those witches that dwelt in Salem. 
 
 The path of duty seemed very clear ; 
 Yes, the magistrates must be severe 
 And deal in a way that once for all 
 Would place the witches beyond recall : 
 So fully a score of dames and men, 
 Who happened beneath the judge's ken, 
 Were bundled off in the Salem cart 
 To test the executioner's art. 
 Some begged for life, with piteous wail, — 
 They found their pleadings of no avail ; 
 Some meekly, silently, met their fate, 
 The victims of ignorance or hate ; 
 And one aged man, with furrowed cheek, 
 Was tortured to death, but would not speak. 
 Thus man and maid, thus neighbor and friend 
 Came to a sad and untimely end 
 When the witches came to Salem. 
 
86 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Error one day took wings and fled, 
 And Humiliation came instead : 
 The governor, he of honored name. 
 His reverend head bowed down with shame; 
 And they who sat upon Justice's throne 
 Reaped part of the sorrow they had sown ; 
 The parson, he who had judged men's ways. 
 Repented in anguish all his days : 
 For Hatred, and Malice, and Envy too. 
 Deceit and Cunning — a fiendish crew — 
 Superstition, too, mistaken Zeal, 
 With Ignorance treading on her heel, — 
 These were,' as those worthies now found out, 
 The only witches there were about — 
 These the dread witches of Salem. 
 
 They of this story have passed away, 
 And enlightened Justice now holds sway. 
 Love, Liberty, and Right today 
 Are the witches found in Salem. 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS 
 
 Persevere 
 
 List, my boy ; a thought for you : 
 In this hfe, whate'er you do, 
 Be your labor great or small. 
 Do it well — or not at all ; 
 And whatever you begin, 
 Work until success you win. 
 
 Keep your courage, never fear ; 
 
 You can reach the goal, my dear, 
 
 If you only persevere. 
 
 If some object you'd attain. 
 Keep at work with might and main : 
 All things come to him who works ; 
 Never to the one who shirks. 
 Fall not out beside the way ; 
 Labor faithfully each day. 
 
 Never falter, never fear ; 
 
 You will win the prize, my dear, 
 
 If you only persevere. 
 
 91 
 
92 JUST JINGLES 
 
 There are rich rewards to win ; 
 If you'd have them, now begin. 
 Bear in mind, my boy, that luck 
 Is another name for pluck. 
 All things good are waiting you, 
 If you're faithful, honest, true. 
 
 Keep your courage, keep your cheer ; 
 
 You can win success, my dear, 
 
 If you only persevere. 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS , 93 
 
 The Hay Barn 
 
 Of all the fine places to frolic and play, 
 Just give me the hay barn upon a wet day — 
 Its beams and its braces just fitted to climb, 
 And its haymow the place to have a good time. 
 
 Ah ! there's many a nook mid the oats and the rye 
 Where a fellow can hide when playing " I spy " ; 
 And when playing at circus, an elegant thing 
 Is the rope stretched over the mow for a swing. 
 
 To walk the big beam is a feat, you'll allow. 
 Or, hang by your heels from the rope o'er the mow ; 
 To walk hand o'er hand 'cross the purlin is fun. 
 Then stand on your head on the mow when you're 
 done. 
 
 There are hens' eggs to hunt, and mice nests to find. 
 And wasp nests o'erhead you can rob if inclmed. 
 Of all the fine places to frolic and play, 
 Just give me the hay barn upon a wet day. 
 
94 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Tale of the Turk and the Tartar 
 
 Mahmoud was a Turk in the town of Yanar, 
 Who kept, years ago, a fine Turkish bazaar ; 
 
 And his place was renowned 
 
 All the country around, 
 For there the best raiment could always be found, 
 
 With rings for the nose 
 
 And fingers and toes, 
 And bracelets the ankles and arms to enclose. 
 
 Ben Chan was a Tartar, who happened one day 
 To call for a moment, when passing that way ; 
 
 And he priced Mahmoud's rings 
 
 And bracelets and things, 
 And allowed that the raiment was fitted for kings. 
 
 He was filled with delight. 
 
 But it puzzled him quite 
 To select him a robe with so many in sight. 
 
 At last, 'tvvixt two robes of an elegant make 
 He paused, undecided which garment to take. 
 
 No difiference in price, 
 
 Both equally nice. 
 All the odds were in color and plan of device; 
 
 But he finally said, 
 
 "You may give me the red ; 
 'Twill become me, I think, when over me spread." 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS 95 
 
 So Mahmoud, well pleased, wrapped the garment 
 
 with care, 
 And passed it across to Ben Chan, waiting there. 
 
 As he took it, he said, 
 
 "I half fear I'm misled ; 
 I believe I prefer the yellow instead. 
 
 'Twould accommodate me 
 
 If you'd trade, sir," said he. 
 And Mahmoud said, "Surely, to that I'll agree." 
 
 The change was soon made, and Ben Chan walked 
 
 away, 
 First bidding the merchant politely "Good day"; 
 
 But the merchant cried : "Hold ! 
 
 My good friend, I make bold 
 To ask for the pay for the goods I have sold. 
 
 You forgot it, no doubt. 
 
 But were going without 
 Leaving the price we were talking about." 
 
 The Tartar replied, "You forget, sir, our trade — 
 The garment of red for the yellow robe paid." 
 
 Said the Turk, "Yes, I know ; 
 
 I'll admit that is so. 
 But yet for the garment of red you still owe." 
 
 "Why, how can that be ?" 
 
 Said the Tartar. ' ' You see 
 You still own that robe — you can't charge it to me.' 
 
96 JUST JINGLES 
 
 The Turk for a moment in thought hung his head ; 
 "I guess you are right," he rekictantly said, 
 
 "Though it doesn't appear, 
 
 Just this moment, quite clear, 
 Yet the raiment of red, as you say, is still here." 
 
 Then Ben Chan walked away ; 
 
 And the Turk, so they say. 
 Is puzzling his head o'er the problem today. 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS 97 
 
 Sir Hubert's Ride 
 
 In olden times, when valiant knights rode gaily- 
 through the land 
 
 To rescue ladies in distress and lend a helping hand 
 
 To all the needy and oppressed, whoever they 
 might be. 
 
 There lived a young and sturdy knight, Sir Hubert 
 Fyddledee. 
 
 Sir Hubert long had sought in vain to test his 
 mettle true ; 
 
 But none there were in dire distress among all whom 
 he knew, 
 
 And nowhere in his neighborhood could he a foe- 
 man find : 
 
 It seemed that fate to Hubert brave was woefully 
 unkind. 
 
 He rode the country round about, astride his noble 
 
 steed, 
 Caparisoned from head to foot — a goodly sight, 
 
 indeed. 
 The peace that reigned about him was distressing 
 
 to his mind ; 
 No tyrant lord, or robber bold, could poor Sir 
 
 Hubert find. 
 
98- JUST JINGLES 
 
 One evening, riding homeward from a day of fruit- 
 less quest, 
 
 The bright moon shone behind him o'er the moun- 
 tains in the west ; 
 
 And lo ! there, just before him, riding boldly, same 
 as he. 
 
 Another knight now loomed in sight, all armed he, 
 cap-a-pie. 
 
 "Hold! hold!" cried Hubert, "who art thou that 
 
 rides by night so bold? 
 Halt, I command, until to me your mission you 
 
 have told." 
 But never paused this somber knight, nor deigned 
 
 to make reply. 
 Nor seemed to notice that there was another rider 
 
 nigh. 
 
 "Zounds!" quoth Sir Hubert, "this is strange; 
 
 perhaps he did not hear." 
 So once again he shouted ' ' Halt ! " in accents loud 
 
 and clear ; 
 But still no pause, but onward moved the doughty 
 
 knight and steed, 
 And to Sir Hubert's challenge bold gave not the 
 
 slightest heed. 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS 99 
 
 * ' Gad zooks ! ' ' cried Hubert, ' ' we will see what 
 
 means this bold disdain" ; 
 Then sank his spurs deep in his horse and rushed 
 
 with might and main 
 Straight toward the strangely silent knight; when, lo ! 
 
 he sprang ahead, 
 And down the road with fearful speed the knightly 
 
 horseman fled. 
 
 And riding swift, and riding fast, with vengeance in 
 
 his eye, 
 Adown the road Sir Hubert and his noble steed did 
 
 fly- 
 
 But strive with all his strength and skill, and strive 
 
 with all his might. 
 Sir Hubert could not overtake the swiftly flying 
 
 knight. 
 
 Mile after mile adown the road the chased and 
 
 chaser fled. 
 The strange knight never losing ground, but always 
 
 just ahead. 
 He urged his steed to greater speed, but all of no 
 
 avail ; 
 His charger's breath came thick and fast, his 
 
 strength began to fail. 
 
100 JUST JINGLES 
 
 At last he staggered, stumbled, fell, and in the dust 
 
 and dirt 
 The knightly Hubert sprawling lay, but luckily 
 
 unhurt. 
 He quickly scrambled to his feet, and searched with 
 
 eager eye 
 Along the dusty road before, the stranger knight to 
 
 spy. 
 
 And lo ! there just before him was the object of his 
 
 chase. 
 The horse prone in the broad highway, the knight 
 
 before his face ; 
 And poor, chagrined Sir Hubert could but scarce 
 
 believe his sight, 
 When he saw that 'twas his shadow he'd mistaken 
 
 for a knight. 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS 101 
 
 The Runaway Boy 
 
 Oh, the naughtiest, sauciest, wickedest boy 
 
 That ever I chanced to see 
 Was the ragged and tattered and runaway boy 
 
 Who happened to Hve near me. 
 
 Oh, his parents and teachers he never would mind, 
 
 And from school he'd run away. 
 With some other audacious and runaway boys. 
 
 To indulge in idle play. 
 
 And the wob-ble-te-gob-ble-te-ketch-a-boy man 
 
 Was one day passing that way, 
 And he captured that boy in the wink of an eye, 
 
 And carried him far away. 
 
 He carried him deep in the wire-brier wood, 
 
 And he left him all alone, 
 Where the bob-by-us-jump-py-us howled and 
 roared, 
 
 And the big boo-boo made moan. 
 
 And the hip-pi-o-hop-pi-o-nos-si-ri-nos. 
 
 He growled and prowled all day ; 
 But which one of the hobgoblins made off with the 
 boy 
 
 I'm not quite ready to say. 
 
102 JUST JINGLES 
 
 The Glorious Fourth 
 
 Hurrah ! hurrah ! the Fourth is here, 
 The loudest day of all the year. 
 
 'TIs roar and clang, 
 
 And pop and bang. 
 
 And 'tis fizz, whiz, sizz ! 
 
 What a day it is ! 
 What a glorious, and uproarious, patriotic day it is .! 
 
 The cannons boom, and trumpets blare 
 And martial music fills the air. 
 
 And 'tis pum, bum, 
 
 Of big bass drum ; 
 
 And 'tis toot, toot, toot, 
 
 Of the horns, and shoot 
 Of the crackers, guns, and rockets that toward the 
 heavens scoot. 
 
 And then the gaudy, grand parade ! 
 The troops in uniform arrayed, 
 
 And tramp of feet 
 
 Adown the street, 
 
 And 'tis flip, flap, flare 
 
 Of the flags in air, — 
 Of the glorious spangled banners waving gaily in the 
 air. 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS 103 
 
 Hurray ! and how the people shout ! 
 Hurray ! and how the speakers spout ! 
 
 And whoop ! hurray ! 
 
 For the splendid day 
 
 With its fun and noise 
 
 And its woes and joys, 
 The gladdest day in all the year for our patriotic 
 boys. 
 
104 JUST JINGLES 
 
 A Lullaby 
 
 The shades of night are falHng, falling ; 
 The birds their mates are calling, calling ; 
 The fiery sun has sunk to rest ; 
 The birdie seeks its tiny nest : 
 Come, baby, lie upon my breast, 
 And sleep, baby, sleep. 
 
 Lullaby, lullaby, sleep, baby, sleep. 
 Angels will come and watch o'er thee keep. 
 Sweet be thy dreams, thy slumber be deep. 
 Lullaby, darling, sleep, baby, sleep. 
 
 The moon o'er hill is beaming, beaming; 
 In sky the stars are gleaming, gleaming ; 
 And Dreamland's boat now waits for thee, 
 To waft thee over Slumber Sea : 
 Safe, yes safe, thy voyage will be, — 
 O sleep, baby, sleep. 
 
 Lullaby, lullaby, sleep, baby, sleep. 
 Angels will come and watch o'er thee keep. 
 Sweet be thy dreams, thy slumber be deep. 
 Lullaby, darling, sleep, baby, sleep. 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS 105 
 
 Sweet sleep o'er thee is creeping, creeping; 
 Ah ! soon thou wilt be sleeping, sleeping ; 
 And as I lay thee in thy bed, 
 May blessings from above be shed 
 In showers upon thy tiny head : 
 So sleep, baby, sleep. 
 
 Lullaby, lullaby, sleep, baby, sleep. 
 Angels will come and watch o'er thee keej). 
 Sweet be thy dreams, thy slumber be deep. 
 Lullaby, darling, sleep, baby, sleep. 
 
106 JUST JINGLES 
 
 How Abed Saved His Head 
 
 Abed Ben Haded, a wise Mussulman, 
 
 Who dwelt in a hut where the broad Tigris ran, 
 
 Once made a remark which the caliph displeased, 
 
 And he swore that his wrath could not be appeased 
 
 By anything short of Ben Haded' s demise. 
 
 "And yet," said the caliph, "since he is so wise. 
 
 If he will make answer correctly to three 
 
 Simple questions to be propounded by me, 
 
 His life shall be spared ; but if not," with a smile, 
 
 ' ' His presence no longer the earth shall defile, 
 
 Ben Haded agreed — what else could he do? — 
 And asked that the ordeal be hurried through. 
 So the caliph began, with a smile of grim glee : 
 "What is it I think? that's the first one," said he. 
 "Ah ! that is quite easy," Ben Haded replied. 
 "You think I can't fathom the thoughts that abide 
 Unexpressed in your brain; but I have, as you see; 
 And thus the first answer is right, you'll agree." 
 And the caliph, well pleased with this clever reply. 
 Said: "That those were my thoughts I cannot deny. 
 
 To answer the next one will not be such play. 
 The question is this : " What next will I say ? " 
 Ben Haded his head bowed a moment in thought : 
 "I think you will say — at least, sire, you ought — 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS 107 
 
 That your highness can illy afford to dispense 
 With one who's endowed with both wisdom and 
 
 sense." 
 " Well said ! " cried the caliph; "your answer is 
 
 right ; 
 I hadn't before viewed the thing in that light. 
 Your life shall be spared if the last of the three 
 Is answered as aptly as these two," said he. 
 
 "What next will I do? tell me that, if you can ; 
 That's a problem I think is unknown to man." 
 But Abed Ben Haded said : "This you will do : 
 Because I've amused and entertained you — 
 Your heart is so kind, generosity great — 
 You will give me a title and handsome estate." 
 And it was even so, for the caliph straightway 
 Made Abed Ben Haded grand vizier that day ; 
 For said he, " I can illy afford to dispense 
 With one who's endowed with both wisdom and 
 sense. ' ' 
 
108 JUST JINGLES 
 
 The Boy and the Bouncing Bear 
 
 This is the story, as far as it goes, 
 Of the boy and the bouncing bear — 
 
 The bear with the black, inquisitive nose 
 And the long and shaggy hair, 
 
 And the boy with the melting eyes of blue 
 
 And a love of stories — about like you. 
 
 The bear, he dwelt in a deep, dark wood, 
 
 And he hunted, day by day. 
 For tender boys, — just as he should, 
 
 For bears are built that way, 
 And it's really a duty for bears to eat 
 Each tender boy that they chance to meet. 
 
 Now, the boy with the melting eyes of blue 
 Went seeking the bouncing bear ; 
 
 For he liked to have his stories new. 
 And he said he didn't care 
 
 For stories after they'd once been told. 
 
 "They lose their flavor," said he, "when old.' 
 
 So thus it occurred that he went one day 
 
 Into the forest deep. 
 And there, where the shadows thickest lay, 
 
 And the sunshine dare not creep, 
 He met the bear with inquisitive nose, — 
 And this is as far as the story goes. 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS 100 
 
 ^ Bold Hold-up 
 
 While walking out the other day, 
 Now, whom do you think I met? 
 
 The Greatest Rogue That Ever Was, 
 And The Biggest Rascal Yet. 
 
 The Greatest Rogue That Ever Was 
 Said, "Uncle, Helen and I 
 
 Are going down to the candy store 
 An all-day sucker to buy." 
 
 The Biggest Rascal Yet, she says, 
 "An' I'se got ve money — see? 
 
 Vere's but one cent, an' I des wish 
 You'd dive anozzer to me." 
 
 There was I, on the street held up 
 By that bold and rascally two ; 
 
 I promptly passed the money o'er. 
 For what could a fellow do? 
 
 And then the robbers let me go ; 
 
 And off with a skip and a hop, 
 The Rogue and Rascal, hand in hand. 
 
 Went on to the candy shop. 
 
110 JUST JINGLES 
 
 When Uncle Sam Was Young 
 
 When Liberty first spread her wings, and Free- 
 dom found her tongue, 
 
 When Independence Day was new, and Uncle Sam 
 was young, 
 
 When came the jolly Fourth around — the first 
 grand celebration — 
 
 With fi.m and noise for all the boys, with joy and 
 exultation, 
 
 Do you suppose those old-time lads, so many years 
 ago, 
 
 Knew half the joys the merry boys of recent dec- 
 ades know? 
 
 Did Andrew Jackson fireworks have? If so, do you 
 suppose 
 
 He got excited, burned his hands, and set on fire 
 his clothes? 
 
 And did the youthful James Monroe, when shoot- 
 ing off a rocket, 
 
 Forget and drop his lighted punk with crackers in 
 his pocket ? 
 
 Did Madison and Jefferson and Burr upon that day 
 
 At early dawn shoot cannons off and scare the 
 infant Clay? 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS 111 
 
 I wonder if Ben Franklin, with approving smile, 
 stood by 
 
 And watched the brilliant rockets as they sailed 
 across the sky. 
 
 And Hancock, he whose heavy hand signed Free- 
 dom's proclamation, 
 
 Do you suppose his bosom swelled with rapture and 
 elation? 
 
 And from a flag-enveloped stand did Washington 
 proclaim. 
 
 And call in bursts of eloquence on Freedom's sacred 
 name? 
 
 Do you suppose a grand parade passed by the 
 
 speaker's stand, 
 The columns moving gayly to the music of the 
 
 band ? 
 And did they have fantastics, and all kinds of 
 
 games and races, 
 And a thousand glad surprises at all sorts of times 
 
 and places? 
 What all was done upon that day? I'd really like 
 
 to know 
 Just how they spent that old-time Fourth so many 
 
 years ago. 
 
112 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Father Sun and Mother Moon 
 
 Good father Sun and mother Moon, a many years 
 
 ago, 
 Looked down upon the cold, dark earth so many 
 miles below. 
 "How dark and drear," 
 Said he, "my dear, 
 Those hills and valleys there appear ! 
 And we have light to spare, up here." 
 Says she, "That's so, that's so." 
 
 Says father Sun to mother Moon: "My dear, let 
 
 you and I 
 Hereafter keep our lanterns burning brightly in the 
 sky : 
 I'll shed my light 
 By day ; at night 
 
 You can the darkness put to flight 
 With your soft beams so clear and white." 
 Says she, "I'll try, I'll try." 
 
 So all day long good father Sun his lantern holds 
 
 on high, 
 And slowly carries it across the blue arch of the 
 
 sky. 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS 113 
 
 When in the west 
 He sinks to rest, 
 Then mother Moon is manifest, 
 And all night long she does her best 
 The world to glorify. 
 
114 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Twins 
 
 Sweet four-year-old Fannie sits on mamma's 
 
 knee : 
 "I love you, I love you, dear mamma," says she. 
 "How much do you love me, you elf?" mamma 
 
 said. 
 Then, thoughtfully, Fannie inclined her wise head: 
 The problem of love was not hard to decide ; 
 " I love you with all of my heart," she replied. 
 
 Then her papa she sought and gave him a kiss, 
 And he on the subject then questioned the miss. 
 ' ' How much does my girl love her papa, my dear? ' ' 
 He asked, as he playfully pinched her pink ear. 
 She gave him a hug, and a pat on the head : 
 "I love you with all of my heart, too," she said. 
 
 "Now, how can that be?" said her pa, puzzled 
 
 quite. 
 "On this funny problem please give me some light : 
 If you love your mamma with all of your heart, 
 Pray, how can that leave me the whole or a part?" 
 He smilingly waits her solution to hear. 
 "I think that my heart must be twins, papa dear." 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS 115 
 
 My Big Brother 
 
 My big brother, you ist ought 'o know him ! 
 
 He knows ve mostest fings : 
 He can tell wight off ve kind a bird is 
 
 Ist by ve song it sings ; 
 'N' he knows ist vare vey all make veir nests ; 
 
 'N' one time he took me 
 To vere vey was a nest wiv some wee birds, 
 
 'N' helt me up to see. 
 
 My big brother, he knows how to kill warts 
 
 When you've handled a toad. 
 You ist take 'n' rub ve wart wiv a stone, 
 
 Ven lay it in ve road ; 
 'N' nen whoever turns vat stone aroun', 
 
 Vey gets ve wart, you see. 
 But I don't handle toads, you bet ! fer I 
 
 Don't want no warts on me. 
 
 'N' my big brother, he can whistle, too, 
 
 Ist ve bulliest kind. 
 'N' my big brother, he don't cry ; ven ma 
 
 Whips him, ven he don't mind. 
 Wisht I could do vat way, but I ist howl 
 
 Ven ma or pa whips me. 
 Wisht I was big as him, but brother says 
 
 Vat some day I will be. 
 
116 JUST JINGLES 
 
 The Fairy and the Burr 
 
 A CHESTNUT burr, with prickly fur, 
 
 Upon the parent tree, 
 One autumn day was heard to say 
 
 To Mr. Bumblebee : 
 "How sad am I, who cannot fly 
 
 Or run or leap or hop 
 Like beast or bee, but on this tree 
 
 Am always doomed to stop ! 
 
 "The birds and bees float o'er the trees ; 
 
 The rabbits leap or run ; 
 The nimble squirrels, and boys and girls. 
 
 Indulge in active fun ; 
 But day and night I'm stuck here tight, 
 
 And though I long to roam. 
 As you'll perceive, I ne'er can leave 
 
 My leafy tree-twig home, " 
 
 A fairy small, who'd chanced to call, 
 
 O'erheard this fretful talk. 
 She shook her head and gently said : 
 
 "Your wish to fly or walk 
 I'll grant to you. Which will you do? 
 
 Just name it and 'tis done." 
 Then cried the burr, "I'd much prefer 
 
 To be a beast and run." 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS 117 
 
 A gentle wave the fairy gave 
 
 Of jeweled wand so small, 
 When, with a bound, unto the ground 
 
 The burr was seen to fall. 
 Lo ! there appear eyes, mouth, and ears, 
 
 Four legs, a tail, some feet, — 
 Strange, you'll agree, — and then we see 
 
 A porcupine complete. 
 
118 JUST JINGLES 
 
 The Brave Midget 
 
 Some years ago, in good old times, 
 
 When giants were in style. 
 And fairies, nymphs, and midgets small, 
 
 Deigned on mankind to smile, 
 A cruel giant vexed the land 
 
 And all the world defied ; 
 And none were found among the brave 
 
 To conquer his fierce pride. 
 
 A king there was — there always is — 
 
 Who had a daughter fak- ; 
 And, though he loved her very much, 
 
 At last, in his despair, 
 He ofiered her — they always do — 
 
 To that brave one who should 
 The giant slay or drive away 
 
 From out the neighborhood. 
 
 A midget just six inches tall 
 
 This proclamation read ; 
 And, hast'ning to the royal court, 
 
 The king he sought, and said : 
 * ' I fain would try to win the hand 
 
 Of your sweet daughter fair, 
 So on the morrow I will slay 
 
 The giant. Thus I swear ! ' ' 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS . 1^9 
 
 Down at the midget gazed the king, 
 Half speechless with surprise. 
 ''This is indeed a merry jest," 
 
 He laughingly replies : 
 "Go bring to me the giant's head 
 And win the princess' hand, 
 And to that royal prize I'll add 
 One half of all my land." 
 
 Now, when the giant heard a foe 
 
 Was come to take his life, 
 He buckled on his armor bright 
 
 And hurried to the strife ; 
 But when he saw this tiny man, 
 
 He gasped and caught his breath ; 
 He coughed and choked in sheer surprise,— 
 
 And laughed himself to death. 
 
 The rest, of course, you all can guess — 
 
 All fairy tales end so : 
 The giant's head he carted back 
 
 The doubting king to show ; 
 A wedding grand at once was made, 
 
 And he the princess wed ; 
 And ever afterward they lived 
 
 Quite happily, 'tis said. 
 
120 . JUST JINGLES 
 
 How a King Lost His Christmas 
 Dinner 
 
 The stately banquet hall was trimmed with ever 
 
 greens galore ; 
 The lengthy tables groaned with food ; a hundred 
 
 plates or more 
 Were waiting for the noble guests who, at the 
 
 king's command, 
 Were coming to partake of cheer — the best in all 
 
 the land. 
 
 When all assembled, cried the king, "Go bring the 
 
 yule log in, 
 And when its fire lights bright these walls, then let 
 
 the feast begin" ; 
 And, eager to obey his voice, twelve yeomen, lusty, 
 
 stout. 
 With salutations to the king rushed down the hall 
 
 and out. 
 
 There in the snow the great log lay — 'twas full 
 
 three fathoms long : 
 But little cared the yeomen ; they were willing, 
 
 brave, and strong. 
 They dragged it through the open door and down 
 
 the long, long hall, 
 And rolled it on the ruddy blaze amid the cheers 
 
 of all. 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS 121 
 
 Now, when the woodman picked this tree out from 
 
 among the rest, 
 He knew it not, but in its heart was hid a wild 
 
 bees' nest. 
 It being cold, the bees within were stiff, and made 
 
 no sign ; 
 And thus they too — against their will — came with 
 
 the king to dine. 
 
 Scarce seated were the guests around the festive 
 
 Christmas board, 
 Ere from the smoking yule log streamed the bees, 
 
 an angry horde. 
 They spared not, neither high nor low, but drove 
 
 them from the hall : 
 Lords, ladies, dukes, and king as well, fled quickly, 
 
 one and all. 
 
 In time the fire burned low and died ; the frost 
 crept through the door ; 
 
 The angry bees were numbed with cold, and fell 
 upon the floor ; 
 
 But ere the king dared back to come within the 
 banquet hall. 
 
 The hungry hounds the feast had found and straight- 
 way eaten all. 
 
122 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Slumber Street 
 
 Oh, miles and miles of beds in a row, 
 Acres of coverlets white as snow, 
 Pillows and pillows, and sheets galore. 
 Blankets and quilts by the hundred score — 
 Ah ! these are the sights that each night greet 
 The children who go to Slumber Street. 
 
 Hush-a-byes, hush-a-byes, soft and low, — 
 Rhythmical murmurs, both fast and slow, — 
 Ditties and hymn tunes, and ballads rare. 
 Melodies gay and with plaintive air, 
 Lullabies tender and soft and sweet, — 
 This is the music of Slumber Street. 
 
 Visions delightful, happy, and gay. 
 
 Of wonderful toys and merry play ; 
 
 Fanciful pictures of rare delight. 
 
 Of verdant fields and skies that are bright — 
 
 Oh ! these are the dreams the children meet 
 
 Who travel each night to Slumber Street. 
 
 Oh, scores upon scores of weary heads 
 Peacefully resting in miles of beds ; 
 Each pair of eyelids is closed up tight, 
 And each pair of eyes is hid from sight. 
 Resting bodies and tired little feet — 
 This is the business of Slumber Street. 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS 123 
 
 The Thoughtless Three 
 
 The flutter-by and the hopper-grass and the 
 
 humble-bumblebee, 
 Set forth one day in the month of May the wide, 
 
 wide world to see. 
 Said they, "We'll go where flowers grow and 
 
 there's never a fret nor care, 
 And the summer through we'll sip the dew and 
 
 inhale the perfume rare." 
 
 As they wandered down through the orchard bloom, 
 
 the ant they chanced to spy ; 
 ''Come, come," cried they, "with us and play" ; 
 
 but the ant replied, ' ' Not I ; 
 I have work to do ere the summer's through, for 
 
 winter will soon be here : 
 And, friends, you too will sadly rue the time you 
 
 waste, I fear." 
 
 The flutter-by and the hopper-grass and the 
 
 humble-bumblebee. 
 As they danced away on the breath of May, at the 
 
 thought laughed merrily. 
 But alas ! alas ! it came to pass that the summer 
 
 swiftly sped. 
 And the thoughtless three perished miserably, while 
 
 the ant was housed and fed. 
 
124 . ■ JUST /INGLES 
 
 The Grisly Gniiu 
 
 Oh, the quarrelsome, 
 Worrisome Grisly Grum 
 
 Delights in a fracas and noise ; 
 And he lingers about 
 To watch for a pout 
 
 On the faces of girls and boys. 
 
 Now, this Grisly Grum 
 Is completely o'ercome 
 
 By a smile or a word of good cheer ; 
 But he bellows with joy 
 When he sights a bad boy, 
 
 And he smiles with a horrible leer. 
 
 If the Grisly Grum 
 Should happen to come 
 
 When the children are pouty and bad, 
 And whisk them away 
 In the night or the day, 
 
 Oh, bless me ! but that would be sad. 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS 125 
 
 > 
 
 For fear that he may, 
 It is best, when at play, 
 
 To be pleasant, and gentle, and good ; 
 For he has, so 'tis said, 
 An unconquerable dread 
 
 Of those who behave as they should. 
 
126 JUST JINGLES 
 
 The Little German Rand 
 
 Hurrah ! the little German band has come to town 
 
 once more : 
 Just see them in their uniforms as they pass by the 
 
 door ! 
 They stop upon the corner, and the children gather 
 
 near, 
 And eagerly they crowd around the music sweet to 
 
 hear. 
 'Tis "Tootle-te-tootle-te-too" and " Oom-te-tarty- 
 
 tay": 
 How the children run to see the fun when the band 
 
 begins to play ! 
 
 There's Jimmie Lee, gone mad with glee, a- walking 
 
 on his hands ; 
 And Kittie Brown is waltzing on the walk with 
 
 Johnnie Sands ; 
 And all the babies in the block are rushed upon the 
 
 street, 
 That they may share with others in the rare and 
 
 wondrous treat. 
 'Tis "Tootle-te-tootle-te-too" and "Oom-te-tarty- 
 
 tay " : 
 How the children run to see the fun when the band 
 
 begins to play ! 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS 127 
 
 And the old folks, too, look out from the window or 
 
 the door. 
 And it almost makes them feel as though they too 
 
 were young once more. 
 And they listen, and they smile, and they nod their 
 
 heads in time 
 To the ripple and the flow of the melody sublime. 
 'Tis "Tootle-te-tootle-te-too" and " Oom-te-tarty- 
 
 tay ' ' : 
 How the children run to see the fun when the band 
 
 begins to play ! 
 
 The hats are passed, and up the street a-marching 
 
 then they go, 
 With half a hundred children a-foUowing in tow ; 
 And soon we hear the distant tune, in faint and 
 
 softened notes, 
 Like hazy dream of pleasures past, as down the 
 
 breeze it floats. 
 'Tis "Tootle-te-tootle-te-too" and " Oom-te-tarty- 
 
 tay": ' 
 How the children run to see the fun, when the band 
 begins to play ! 
 
128 JUST JINGLES 
 
 The Tables Turned 
 
 Three little girls in a row, oh ho ! 
 
 Three little girls in a row : 
 
 And one saucy face is hidden by curls, 
 And one in her hand her sunbonnet twirls, 
 And all are wee, saucy midgets of girls — 
 
 Three little girls in a row. 
 
 Three little boys hid near by, oh my ! 
 
 Three mischievous boys, my eye ! 
 
 And one cried, "Bah!" with a terrible shout. 
 And two cried, "Boo !" as they all rushed out, 
 And put these three little girls to rout 
 
 With their strange and startling cry. 
 
 ' ' Boo hoo ! ' ' cried the girls in alarm, ' ' boo hoo ! ' ' 
 Oh, what shall we do, we do?" 
 
 " Te he ! " cried the boys, as they ran ; " te he ! 
 
 Such fun as this we never did see." 
 
 And they danced and shouted and laughed in 
 glee. 
 And made a great hullabaloo. 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS 129 
 
 "Oh ho!" cried three mammas with switches, 
 
 "oh ho! 
 There's mischief afoot, we know": 
 
 And they captured those boys in the wink of an 
 
 eye, 
 And out of their jackets they made the dust fly, 
 And, merciful me ! how those urchins did cry ! 
 Such a sorrowful time, oh ho ! 
 
130 JUST JINGLES 
 
 A Pair of Runaways 
 
 ' Way down in the wood — in the deep, dark wood 
 
 In a quiet, safe retreat. 
 There dwelt a growlery grizzly bear. 
 
 And her dear cub, Nimblefeet ; 
 And often she told her baby bear 
 
 Of the dangers of the wood, 
 And warned him ever to stay at home, 
 
 Just as a little bear should. 
 
 In a cottage small, beyond the wood. 
 
 With his mother kind and true, 
 There lived a frolicsome, laughing boy, 
 
 Just about as big as you ; 
 And often this mother told her child 
 
 Of the dangers of the wood, 
 And warned him ever to stay at home. 
 
 Just as a little boy should. 
 
 But it chanced one day, when from her home 
 
 Mrs. Bear was forced to go. 
 That the baby bear crept slyly out — 
 
 For a little walk, you know ; 
 But the sights were all so strange and rare 
 
 That before he -hardly knew, 
 He had wandered far into the wood, 
 
 And his home was lost to view. 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS 131 
 
 Now it also chanced that afternoon 
 
 That another runaway — 
 Thehttle boy, from his cottage home — 
 
 Came into the wood to play; 
 And just when the shadows longer grew, 
 
 In a dark and gloomy place, 
 The timid bear and the frightened boy 
 
 Came together, face to face. 
 
 With a snort, a squeal, and whine of fear 
 
 The litde bear turned and fled; 
 While with screams and cries, with equal haste, 
 
 The little boy homeward sped. 
 And now, it is said, the httle bear 
 
 Stays at home, just as he should; 
 And the boy no more desires to play 
 
 In the shadow-haunted wood. 
 
132 JUST JINGLES 
 
 The IVicked IVainbellee IV oo 
 
 A WICKED old Wam-bel-lee Woo, 
 Goes about in the dark crying, "Boo!" 
 And I tremble o' nights, when the light is put out, 
 For fear that this creature, in roaming about, 
 May chance upon me and then wickedly shout 
 His weird and uncanny cry, "Boo !" 
 
 That this wandering Wam-bel-lee Woo 
 May be harmless, I'll grant may be true ; 
 But his shadowy form and his great, glaring eyes, 
 And the swish of his inky-black wings, as he flies, 
 Will alarm me, I'm sure, as he pauses and cries, 
 In the night, by my bedside, his "Boo!" 
 
 This wicked old Wam-bel-lee Woo 
 I have never yet seen — nor have you — 
 But I have a queer feeling that, roaming about. 
 There is just such a creature, without any doubt ; 
 And some night he'll scare me, I'm sure, with his 
 shout — 
 His startling and terrible "Boo !" 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS 138 
 
 Pussy s Valentine 
 
 Said a purring, persuasive Thomas Cat 
 
 To a meek little Molly Mouse: 
 "You're the sweetest creature, I really think, 
 
 To be found in all the house. 
 You look so cunning, so lovely, so fair, 
 
 I trust that you'll not decline 
 To grant me the favor I most desire: 
 
 'Tis to be my valentine." 
 
 Said the flattered, deluded Molly Mouse, 
 
 To the purring Thomas Cat, 
 " Such language as yours I have seldom heard - 
 
 So gallant and all o' that : 
 So I will confess that your tender tone 
 
 And manner superbly fine, 
 Have awakened a fondness in my heart ; 
 
 And I'll be your valentine." 
 
 So the Thomas Cat and the Molly Mouse 
 
 Wandered gaily, side by side, 
 To the cozy nook by the woodshed door 
 
 Where the pussy cats abide. 
 Then what do you think that Thomas Cat did 
 
 When he sat him down to dine? 
 He pounced upon this poor little mouse. 
 
 And ate up his valentine. 
 
134 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Timorous Tommy 
 
 Just listen a moment, and I will tell 
 Of a strange adventure that befell 
 A timid youngster I knew quite well — 
 Young Timorous Tommy of Glenwood Dell. 
 Just out of the dell, half up the hill, 
 There stood a towering, tall windmill, 
 And still beyond stood a cottage small, 
 Where lived a lad named Timothy Hall, 
 A playmate of Timorous Tommy. 
 
 One night young Tommy essayed to go 
 To Timothy's house — for a call, you know. 
 The thin, new moon, with its faint, pale glow. 
 Scarce lighted the objects on earth below. 
 As Timorous Tommy stole up the road 
 Toward the cottage small where his friend abode. 
 His heart grew sick with a nameless fear ; 
 He felt some danger was lurking near — 
 Apprehensive Timorous Tommy ! 
 
 Then, what do you think? Alack ! alack ! 
 A terrible thing stood in his track ; 
 'Twas tall and shadowy, and weird and black, 
 And its waving arms seemed warning him back, 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS 135 
 
 While there came a grinding, munching noise, 
 As though the creature were eating boys. 
 With a cry of terror he turned and fled, 
 And down the road to his home he sped — 
 Poor, terrified Timorous Tommy ! 
 
 He trod that road the following day. 
 
 And then discovered, to his dismay. 
 
 That the creature fierce which blocked his way 
 
 And led him such terror to display 
 
 Was naught but the busy, long-armed mill, 
 
 That clanked and creaked as, with hearty will, 
 
 It labored all day and turned all night. 
 
 Innocent of all intent to fright 
 
 This trembling Timorous Tommy. 
 
136 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Orphan Billy 
 
 Young Billy hasn't any ma 
 
 To tell him w'at to do. 
 To make him mind, an' comb his hair, 
 
 An' keep him in a stew. 
 He doesn't hafto wash hisself, 
 
 Ner mind about his clo'es — 
 ] tell vQ Bill has mostest fun 
 
 Of any boy I knows. 
 
 'N' Bill kin go a-fishing, too, 
 
 Whenever he's inclined, 
 'N' he kin stay away all day 
 
 'N' no one ever mind. 
 I tell you, orfuns has a snap : 
 
 I most wisht I was one ; 
 My ma an' pa watch me so clost 
 
 I can't have any fun. 
 
 ' N' Bill kin stay out late o' nights. 
 
 Till nine o'clock, or ten ; 
 But let me stay till half past eight, 
 
 'N' sompthin' happens, then! 
 'N' you ist ought to see Bill's clo'es. 
 
 All tored up into bits ; 
 But if mine's tared a little mite 
 
 My ma ist gives me fits. 
 
CHILDREN'S POEMS 137 
 
 Yis, orfuns has a snap, fer sure : 
 
 Still, when I come to think 
 About not havin' any ma, 
 
 I kind o' hafto wink 
 To keep the tears from comin' out ; 
 
 Fer ma is awful kind, 
 'N' treats me nice an' lovin', too, 
 
 1st 'cept when I don't mind. 
 
 She gives me pie an' cake 'tween meals, 
 
 'N' helps me make my kites, 
 'N' sets fer hours beside my bed 
 
 When I am sick o' nights, 
 'N' softly, gently strokes my head, 
 
 'N' calls me her dear son — 
 I think I'd druther keep my ma, 
 
 'N let Bill have the fun. 
 
MISCELLASEOL'S 
 
MISCELLANEOUS 
 
 If Yoiive Only Got the Sand 
 
 Are you struggling on life's journey 
 
 For a place toward the top? 
 Are you sometimes faint and weary 
 
 And almost inclined to stop ? 
 Do not falter, but keep going ; 
 
 Grasp your staff tight in your hand ; 
 Push ahead ; you'll surely get there 
 
 If you've only got the sand. 
 
 Do you wish to be a soldier, 
 
 Fighting battles for the right? 
 Strap your knapsack on your shoulder, 
 
 Grasp your weapons firm and tight ; 
 You can lead the hosts to batde, 
 
 You the armies can command, 
 You can reach the front and stay there 
 
 If you've only got the sand. 
 
 141 
 
142 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Would you gain an author's laurels, 
 
 Winning hearts with ready pen, 
 Setting words to pleasant music, 
 
 Shaping thoughts and wills of men? 
 Would you help the world be better? 
 
 Help drive evil from the land? 
 Buckle in ! you'll surely get there 
 
 If you've only got the sand. 
 
 Or, is there some fond position 
 
 That you eagerly desire? 
 Does fame hold some crown above you 
 
 To gain which you would aspire ? 
 Make a start, if you would win it ! 
 
 Pluck is always in demand. 
 There is naught you cannot conquer 
 
 If you've only got the sand. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS 143 
 
 Don't You Think it Better? 
 
 If the sun were always shining, 
 
 And the sky were always blue, 
 Then the grass would miss the raindrops 
 
 And the flowers would miss the dew. 
 If the night ne'er brought the darkness, 
 
 Then the stars would never shine. 
 Don't you think that it is better 
 
 Light and darkness to combine? 
 
 If we never had to battle 
 
 With temptation or with sin, 
 We could never test our mettle, 
 
 We could never victories win. 
 If we never had to labor. 
 
 We could ne'er enjoy the rest. 
 Don't you think that toil and trouble, 
 
 After all, are for the best? 
 
 If our paths were always level. 
 
 And we ne'er climbed mountain heights, 
 We could not gaze o'er the landscape 
 
 At its grand and pleasing sights. 
 If this world contained no sorrow, 
 
 Joys would hardly be complete. 
 Don't you think that it Is better, 
 
 Mixing bitter with the sweet? 
 
144 JUST JINGLES 
 
 The Brave Ones 
 
 It is easy to smile when the bright sun is shining, 
 
 And Fortune is #valking along by your side ; 
 It is easy to laugh with our friends all about us, 
 
 When nothing of evil or illness betide ; 
 But brave are the ones who, with skies that are 
 darkened, 
 
 And Trouble attending, and fair Fortune fled, 
 Will continue to smile, nor succumb to disaster, 
 
 But, firm and unyielding, keep pushing ahead. 
 
 It is easy to sail over life's bounding billows 
 
 When the wind and the tide keep moving our 
 way ; 
 And 'tis easy to sing when the fates are propitious, 
 And blue are the heavens, and calm is the day ; 
 But when fiercely the storm king is raging and 
 roaring. 
 And dangers press thickly upon every side, 
 How brave is the man who will shrink not from 
 danger. 
 But bend to the oars, and pull strong 'gainst the 
 tide! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS 145 
 
 'Tis not hard to do right when the Tempter Is ab- 
 sent, 
 And duty's demands are a joy to obey ; 
 When kind friends surround you, who ever are 
 ready 
 To lend their assistance to help on the way. 
 The hero Is he who alone struggles onward. 
 
 Who meets with the Tempter, nor yields to his 
 wiles. 
 Who can sufifer, and struggle with Ills that beset 
 him, 
 And still face the world with kind words and 
 sweet smiles. 
 
146 JUST JINGLES 
 
 High Tide 
 
 High tide ! The angry ocean fiercely charges on 
 
 the shore ; 
 Its mighty waves beat on the rocks with sullen, 
 
 baffled roar : 
 The path I thought to walk along lies buried 'neath 
 
 the wave, 
 Like hopes I fondly cherished once, that early found 
 
 a grave. 
 
 From far out o'er the ocean's breast the mighty 
 
 billows roll, 
 Like trouble sweeping swiftly on to overwhelm my 
 
 soul ; 
 My pathway seems forever lost, and joy forever fled, 
 And tumult, storm, commotion fierce, before my face 
 
 are spread. 
 
 But while I stand with sinking heart and trembling 
 
 with my fears. 
 Behold ! the tide hath swept away, the pathway now 
 
 appears ; 
 And where my way was hidden deep beneath the 
 
 waters' whirl, 
 Lo ! on the sands, just at my feet, the waves have 
 
 laid a pearl. 
 
Would I might stay, like the laughiiis; i)rook, where lie the shadows cool 
 For comfort hides and joy abides beside that woodland pool. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS 147 
 
 The IVoodland Pool 
 
 Deep in the woodland dell, where the white birch 
 
 lovingly leans, 
 And the lily's gold from the sun's glance bold is 
 
 sheltered by leafy screens, 
 The laughing brook its current stays where the 
 
 shadows fall so cool. 
 And, by green banks pressed, its waters rest in the 
 
 placid woodland pool. 
 
 The playful squirrel, the sportive hare, the wily fox 
 
 draw near ; 
 They slyly glance — and bathe, perchance — within 
 
 its waters clear. 
 The deer so fleet his nimble feet stays on its mossy 
 
 brink 
 To view his mirrored form below and of its waters 
 
 drink. 
 
 The song bird builds its tiny nest in leafy bowers 
 above. 
 
 And all the day it trills a lay — a symphony of love. 
 
 Would I might stay, like the laughing brook, where 
 lie the shadows cool, 
 
 For comfort hides and joy abides beside that wood- 
 land pool. 
 
148 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Von Blinker the Tinker 
 
 Years ago, when this country was wilder and newer, 
 When customs were diff'rent and people were fewer, 
 There passed through the land an itinerant tinker 
 Who bore the proud title of Gottlieb Von Blinker — 
 Von Blinker the tinker, a most profound thinker 
 Philosopher, traveler, Gottlieb Von Blinker. 
 
 He mended the pans for the justice and mayor, 
 For Peter the blacksmith and John the surveyor. 
 For Andrew the fisher and Charles the musician. 
 For Henry the farmer and Paul the physician — 
 
 Did the tinker Von Blinker, a most profound 
 thinker, 
 
 Philosopher, traveler, Gottlieb Von Blinker. 
 
 And day after day, while Gottlieb was mending, 
 He listened to gossip and tattle unending. 
 At Peter's he learned of the faults of the farmer. 
 And Henry disclosed the weak points in John's 
 armor 
 To the tinker Von Blinker, a most profound 
 
 thinker. 
 Philosopher, traveler, Gottlieb Von Blinker. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS 149 
 
 The rich blamed the poor for their humble condition ; 
 The poor cursed the rich for their social position ; 
 And each man would point to some neighborhood 
 
 sinner, 
 And paint a dire picture for Gottlieb the tinner — 
 For the tinker Von Blinker, a most profound 
 
 thinker, 
 Philosopher, traveler, Gottlieb Von Blinker. 
 
 The result of his years of profound observation 
 At last was brought out in a brief conversation : 
 " Ouf you mix een von pag der poor unt der richer. 
 You nefifer couldt dell der vich vrom der vicher. 
 
 Said the tinker Von Blinker, a most profound 
 thinker. 
 
 Philosopher, traveler, Gottlieb Von Blinker, 
 
150 JUST JINGLES 
 
 The Rose and the Thorn 
 
 You doubtless have read what the pessimist said — 
 
 "ThereVa thorn hiding close to each rose" ; 
 But who, tell me, pray, for the thorn stays away 
 From the loveliest flower that grows? 
 
 Who minds the slight prick of the thorns 
 When seeking the sweet-blooming rose ? 
 Who cares for their sting when they bring, 
 
 when they bring 
 The fragrant and beautiful rose. 
 
 One always can find, if to sad views inclined, 
 
 Some sting hidden near to each joy ; 
 But sad is the heart that will let the slight smart 
 Of the thorn all his pleasures destroy. 
 Why ! I welcome the prick of the thorn 
 If it brings me the scent of the rose ; 
 Its clinging caress I will bless, I will bless, 
 If it brings me the sweet-blooming rose. 
 
 Yes, give me the sting of the thorns, for they bring 
 Rare pleasures along with the smart ; 
 
 And this all must know — wherever we go, 
 Joy and sorrow are never apart. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS 151 
 
 a 
 
 But what of the prick and the pain? 
 But what of the pang when one knows 
 That each smart and each sting to our hearts 
 
 soon will bring 
 The fragrance and balm of the rose? 
 
152 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Take Courage 
 
 The task that looked so difficult 
 
 When first it met your view, 
 Completed brings its meed of joy 
 
 And recompense to you. 
 The way that looked so long and steep 
 
 Leads you to heights sublime ; 
 The mountain view is rich reward 
 
 To those who choose to climb. 
 
 The day that looked so dark and drear 
 
 And promised so much pain 
 Has been endured, and brought, no doubt, 
 
 Some pleasure or some gain. 
 The starless night which filled with dread 
 
 Your timid, shrinking breast 
 Brought peace unto your weary soul, 
 
 Unto your body rest. 
 
 Then courage take, and bravely meet 
 
 Each changing scene of life. 
 Assured that strength and wisdom come 
 
 With labor and with strife. 
 Each piercing thorn foretells the rose 
 
 That soon will meet your view ; 
 Each sorrow whispers of some joy 
 
 That lies in wait for vou. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS 15^ 
 
 The Time for Dreaming 
 
 When the day is dead, and the sun has fled, 
 
 And the beautiful stars are gleaming, 
 Bedecking the skies, and the soft wind sighs, 
 
 Ah ! that is the time for dreaming ; — 
 When refulgent the skies with bright, watchful eyes, 
 
 Ah ! that is the time for dreaming. 
 
 Each beautiful star that is shining afar 
 
 Is a thought, a memory, streaming 
 From the heavenly blue, and is bringing to you 
 
 Sweet, shadowy myths for your dreaming; — 
 Down, down from the blue are floating to you 
 
 Sweet, mystical thoughts for your dreaming. 
 
 Each soft, gentle beam is a dream, is a dream, 
 
 A phantom, with all of the seeming 
 Of the real and the true, and they drift down to you 
 
 Sweet fallacies, born of your dreaming ; — 
 They float down to you, seeming real, seeming 
 true — 
 
 Sweet rhapsodies, born of your dreaming. 
 
154 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Sunset on the Farm 
 
 Down behind the western hill the red sun sinks to 
 rest. 
 All the world is weary, and I am weary too. 
 The partridge seeks its covert, and the redbird seeks 
 its nest, 
 And I am coming from the fields, dear heart, to 
 home and you. 
 Home when the daylight is waning — 
 Home when my toiling is done ; 
 Ah ! down by the gate sweet watching eyes wait 
 My coming at setting of sun. 
 
 The sheep from off the hillside haste to the shep- 
 herd's fold, 
 For death lurks in the mountains and darkness 
 comes apace. 
 The fleeing sun looks backward and turns the sky 
 to gold, 
 Then folds the mantle of the night across Its crim- 
 son face. 
 Home when the daylight Is waning — 
 Home when my toiling is done ; 
 Ah ! down by the gate sweet watching eyes wait 
 My coming at setting of sun. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS 155 
 
 Lay aside the hoe and spade, and put the sickle by ; 
 
 All the world is weary, and I am weary, too. 
 Gendy fades the rosy light from out the western sky, 
 And I am coming from the fields, dear heart, to 
 home and you. 
 Home when the daylight is waning — 
 Home when my toiling is done ; 
 Ah ! down by the gate sweet watching eyes wait 
 My coming at setting of sun. 
 
156 JUST JINGLES 
 
 Good Night 
 
 Good night, tired world : the sinking sun 
 
 Leaves you to silent rest ; 
 The darkness throws its sable robes 
 
 Across your weary breast ; 
 And Erebus the curtain draws, 
 
 Excluding Phoebus' light ; — 
 So take your rest, O weary earth — 
 
 Good night, tired world, good night. 
 
 Good night, O weary laborer. 
 
 Whose task of day is done ; 
 You too may take your well-earned rest 
 
 As fades the setting sun. 
 A blessing on the weary one 
 
 Who labors for the right ; 
 Sweet sleep and peace thy portion be — 
 
 Good night, true one, good night. 
 
 Good night, fair youth, whose idle sport 
 
 Hath filled the happy day ; 
 The welcome light is fading fast. 
 
 So lay aside thy play. 
 The merry game must now be dropped. 
 
 The toy hid from the sight ; 
 Now Morpheus comes to claim his own — 
 
 Good night, sweet youth, good night. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS 157 
 
 Good night, old age ; thy weary march 
 
 Adown the way of years 
 Hath brought fatigue, but now, before, 
 
 The Hall of Rest appears ; 
 For with the fleeing of the years 
 
 Thy burdens take their flight. 
 And sleep and rest are thine at last — 
 
 Good night, old man, good night. 
 
C 32 
 
 89 "isr 
 
II 
 
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 "W" f^' \/ .♦^'" \.^^ -^^ 
 
 HECKMAN 
 
 BINDERY INC. 
 
 DEC 88 
 
 ^^^ N. MANCHESTER, 
 ^ ^ INDIANA 46962