'"Mtmkfmt for Wmn 
 
 ff 
 
 By 
 
 Edward Brooks, Jr. 
 
 €@pirrliht@d, A. D. 191S. 
 
•a!) 
 
 
 0;A418151 
 
 D£C 23 1315 
 
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 1 1 O my grandmotlier^ 
 ^ to whom I owe a 
 great number of the joys 
 of my childhood^ this 
 little book is lovingly 
 dedicated. 
 
rime is long, distance great; 
 
 The mail is never sure of late^ 
 
 But when this finally does get through^ 
 
 'Twill tell you that I think of you. 
 
 rn' 
 
 m 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2011 with funding from 
 The Library of Congress 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/breakfastfortwooOObroo 
 
Wmxr 
 
 MtmMwA for ^ma. 
 
 A room in the early morning, a room that 
 
 contains just two, 
 Perhaps it appeals to me, much more than 
 
 it appeals to you. 
 Under certain conditions, this room is my 
 
 chief delight; 
 These make it ever the basis of man's 
 
 great might. 
 
 Life and its vital interests begin in the 
 early morn. 
 
 As you spring from your bed quickly at 
 the sound of the breakfast horn. 
 
 The meal must be quite ample, the com- 
 pany most kind, 
 
 In order that you may go through the day 
 in a peaceful frame of mind. 
 
 A day with a good beginning comes to a 
 happy close; 
 
 And many a man such happy days away 
 in hisi memory stows. 
 
 A room in the early morning, a room that 
 contains just two, 
 
 If things don't start out right, no one is 
 to blame but you. 
 
 MORAL) 
 
 Be cheerful in the morning, be cheerful 
 as you feed; 
 
 And leave the house with a blessing, and 
 a wishing of **God speed.'' 
 
"My Gramma's House." 
 

 M^ (^mmmu'B 1^0110^. 
 
 When I was a little boy, and a circus came 
 
 to town; 
 My mother asked me, if I'd rather go to 
 
 Gram 'ma's or to see the clown? 
 Now my Gram 'ma lived just ten miles off^ 
 
 in the country on a farm, 
 And my Gram 'pa kept a grocery store 
 
 beside his little farm. 
 I'd make up my mind at a moment's 
 
 thought; to Gram 'ma's house I'd say. 
 
 My mother thought that coffee was not 
 
 good for little boys. 
 Made them nervous, made them small, and 
 
 all that other noise. 
 My Uncle Will is six feet two» he weighs 
 
 two hundred pounds; 
 My Uncle Claude is five feet eight; they 
 
 never heard such sounds. 
 My Grandpa is a great big man ; he drinks 
 
 it every day. 
 Then why does mother always say it may 
 
 make you nervous, indeed it surely may. 
 
 When I'm out to Gram 'ma's I have near- 
 ly my own way; 
 
 My coffee it ain't only milk that tastes to 
 me like whay. 
 
 My Gram 'ma gives me cookies and she lets 
 me soak 'em too; 
 
 In fact my Gram 'ma let's me do most 
 what I want to do. 
 
At evening just before bedtime, there's a 
 
 seat outside the door; 
 It's just a wagon seat, but then it's springs 
 
 are not so poor; 
 Gram 'ma comes and sits beside me, and we 
 
 talk for most an hour. 
 Do you wonder that the circus has lost 
 
 for me its power. 
 
ffagir 
 
 l^i iorain, 
 
 There is a land far to the west 
 
 Beyond the western sea; 
 Where I at length will find a rest^ 
 
 And you shall rest with me. 
 A land of bliss beyond compare. 
 
 Of optimism pure; 
 A home where one may share his bread 
 
 With all deserving poor. 
 This land is El Dorado! 
 
 There is a land far to the west^ 
 
 A land of El Dorado! 
 Where I at length shall find a rest, 
 
 A land without a shadow. 
 A land of joy sublime and fair, 
 
 A land of mirth and laughter; 
 To many men this place is known 
 
 As the land of the hereafter. 
 
 The men of old and modern times 
 
 Have sought to gain it's portals; 
 It's gates today they stand ajar 
 
 For all we sinful mortals. 
 The prince stands at the city gate, 
 
 And bids all come who will; 
 The feast is set, the guests are met^^ 
 
 Why do you linger still? 
 

 This life of ours is but a speck 
 
 Compared with life tomorrow; 
 A life so grim and full of pain^ 
 
 So filled with many a sorrow, 
 A life not worth the price it costs 
 
 In richest blood of sacrifice, 
 Were we not sure of one more day^, 
 
 Of one more sun to rise. 
 
 There is a land far to the west 
 
 Beyond the western sea; 
 Where 1 at length shall find a test^ 
 
 And you shall rest with me. 
 A land of bliss beyond compare, 
 
 Of optimism pure; 
 A home where one may share his bread 
 
 With all deserving poon 
 
"My Grandpa was a Soldier." 
 
9m^ 
 
 jig ^raiti^fta mm a ^tiihxn. 
 
 My Grandpa was a soldier, he went 
 through the Civil War; 
 
 He tells me many stories, of how the 
 
 battles were. 
 When Grandma pops me popcorn, he says 
 
 it sounds to him 
 Like the sound of far off firing from a 
 
 rebel gun machine. 
 
 My Grandpa says that soldiers have no 
 
 easy time at all; 
 That when the bugle sounds they must 
 
 answer every call. 
 My Grandpa was with Sherman in his 
 
 march down to the sea, 
 He didn't have to walk because, he was in 
 
 the cavalry. 
 
 Bis commander was Kilpatrick, and the 
 men all loved him too; 
 
 It wasn't for himself at all, but for just 
 what he could do. 
 
 I like to hear the bugle play the march 
 down to the sea; 
 
 I love to think that Grandpa was fighting 
 there for me. 
 
 tf in years to come this country calls for 
 volunteers again, 
 
 1 hope I may be counted with the coun- 
 try's truest men. 
 

 K Higift Alum an ®t|^ Praim* 
 
 I sit alone in the darkness, and all is still 
 around ; 
 
 The far off bark of the coyote has a 
 cheering sort of sound. 
 
 The murmur of the breezes as they whis- 
 per through the grass, 
 
 Gives a sound like to the cadence of a 
 softly chanted mass. 
 
 Like an evening benediction comes the 
 starlight from the skies, 
 
 A.S I lay my head in my saddle, and peace- 
 fully close my eyes. 
 
 To my mind is brought the weakness^ of 
 we mortals little power 
 
 Of the mightiness of nature, and that 
 
 great and lofty tower, 
 
 That extends a distance upwards, that is 
 
 known to none how far. 
 Then I fall asleep a-dreaixiing of a life 
 
 that is to be, 
 In a bright and happy country far beyond 
 
 our life's dull sea. 
 

 Temptation sits upon you, 
 
 As a crown upon a queen ; 
 You're the fairest little maiden 
 
 That ever eye has seen. 
 
 Your lips are like a rosebud 
 
 That is touched with morning dew; 
 
 My mind it turns to kisses, 
 As my eyes are held to you. 
 
 Your eyes are black as carbon 
 With a diamond glint behind; 
 
 Yet they show a heart that's beating 
 With a love of all mankind. 
 
 Your cheeks are like the morning, 
 As its born far in the east; 
 
 Just to cast one's glance upon you 
 Is to give one's eyes a feast. 
 
 There is joy in vast abundance 
 In the pleasure of your smile, 
 
 It alone and not one other 
 
 Is the joy that is worth while. 
 

 ®Jjf ISlxtih (Stump i^g. 
 
 A little tramp dog in the city street, 
 Passed each day by many feet; 
 With an eye as kind as a thoroughbred, 
 Or a poodle who sleeps on a downy bed. 
 Who wags his tail in a friendly way, 
 As the people pass him every day- 
 Is not a tramp from choice. 
 
 A little tramp dog who is sick and cold, 
 Whose blood runs slow, tho' he's not old, 
 Whose hair comes out for lack of food; 
 Who falls in the tracks where he should 
 have stood. 
 
 He has no other choice. 
 
 You feed the man who comes to your door^ 
 You feed him once and he asks for more; 
 Yet you throw no bone to the wayfaring 
 
 dog, 
 Who's not spent his life at imbibing grog. 
 You have made a foolish choice. 
 
 A dog has no power to earn his bread, 
 He cannot ask, but he must be fed; 
 There is within him the heart of a friend, 
 His own life's blood for you he'd spend. 
 Oh, give him a better choice. 
 
Mifttm 
 
 ^pxingilmt. 
 
 In the morning very early ere the dew 
 
 has disappeared, 
 Long before the sound of school bell has 
 
 my morning walk discheered. 
 Then the blue bird, sweetly singing, 
 
 singing for a mate, 
 Flies so swiftly cross my vision that he 
 
 must be late 
 To his trysting place. 
 
 From the bushes close beside me into the 
 
 still air, 
 Goes a robin homeward flying with a 
 
 piece of hair. 
 Flowers are springing by the roadside, 
 
 trees are budding out; 
 Oh, 'tis joy to just be living, let's set up 
 
 a shout. 
 
 Across my pathway comes a maiden, fair 
 
 as any maid is fair, 
 With bright smiles her face is laden, here 
 
 begins my care. 
 Birds and flowers are soon forgotten, 
 
 schools and their text books ; 
 All give preference to the maiden, and 
 
 her bright and winning looks. 
 Such is youth in spring. 
 

 ©in? eillitririj ffldli. 
 
 Vve taken sich a awful cold, and Mary 
 
 Ann has too; 
 It's ben two weeks last Sunday since it 
 
 started out and grew\ 
 The parson he was preaching on truth and 
 
 sich as that; 
 While a draft from some blame winder 
 
 done hit us where we sat. 
 [ w^as glad when it was over, and the 
 
 people all arose, 
 But when I got up on my feet they both 
 
 was darn near froze. 
 
 The next day Ezry Hopkins came out 
 
 along our way; 
 r warn't disposed to help liim for to put 
 
 up some more hay; 
 But he's awful hard for squelchin' and 
 
 I had to go by gee. 
 We worked till half past leven, and we 
 
 certainly did sweat; 
 Then we stripped and went in swimmin' 
 
 I can feel that water yet, 
 And it felt a darn sight better than it 
 
 ever did before ; 
 Water is that refresliin/ when you^re 
 
 sweatin' to the core. 
 
 After that my cold got worser till f took 
 
 some catnip tea ; 
 But I'll tell you very frankly that they's 
 
 no more drafts for me. 
 
The murmur of the insects is music in 
 
 my ear; 
 The noisy little brooklet is sure to give 
 
 me cheer; 
 My evil mood is going with a solemn sort 
 
 of treadj 
 As if 'twere loath to leave me quite free 
 
 of any dread. 
 
 And the wood is all around, , 
 
 O'er my mind a joy is stealing that I 
 
 cannot quite compare 
 With the joy I feel with others as I travel 
 
 here and there. 
 Art, literature and culture have their 
 
 pleasures for mankind^ 
 But the solitude is better for the 
 
 pleasures of the mind. 
 
 When the wood is all around. 
 
 This is joy beyond conception of the man 
 
 who lives in town; 
 His is the joy of glory^ and the lusting for 
 
 a crown. 
 Life to me is never sweeter, nor at any 
 
 time more dear, 
 Than when I help a fellow to a bit of 
 
 nature's cheer = 
 
 Where the wood is all around. 
 

 We speak of a clay that is finer, 
 Of a mind that is more refined, 
 Of a heart that beats much stronger 
 For the benefit of mankind. 
 
 But God is above in the heavens ; 
 He has created men all the same; 
 We live, and we blame our brothers 
 For what we are ourselves to blame. 
 
 Do we think that a polish of kindness, 
 That a veneer of gospel song 
 Will lighten the pathway of blindness, 
 Will banish from earth all the wrong? 
 
 If so we are sadly mistaken 
 In the work we were meant to do; 
 Let us give our hand as a token, 
 To all, not just to a few. 
 
iiRRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 liliiiiiiHii, 
 
 018 602 285^ W