ri3Rs Pr^ '^^r^7 
 Bool e ,A'77L4 . 
 
 COEfflRIGHT DEPOSm 
 
7^^ 
 
LEISURE HOURS 
 
NEWELL B. DAVIS 
 
THE DISTINGUISHED SERVICE CROSS 
 
LEISURE HOURS 
 
 A Book of Short Poems 
 
 BY 
 MRS. UDOLPHIA DAVIS 
 
 Revised by her son 
 NEWELL B. DAVIS 
 
 and enlarged by 
 
 HIS SOLDIER RHYMES 
 
 AND 
 
 SHORT VERSES 
 
 OSINCUP & PROCTOR 
 
 HOBNBLL, N. T. 
 
-V 
 
 <^1 
 
 Copyright, 1922, ky 
 ]Sr EWELL B. Davis 
 
 APR 29 1922 
 
 §)n!A66l771 
 
Dedication 
 
 This book, I dedicate to boys, 
 
 Denied through life. Dame Nature's joys ; 
 The Autumn's flush of rose and wine. 
 
 The sunset's afterglow decline. 
 The Winter's pine fringed mountain-sides, 
 
 Where rolls the mist like ocean tides; 
 Who's fancy only sees the gleam 
 
 Of sunshine o'er the fields of green ; 
 Who ne'er can chase the butterfly, 
 
 Amid the flowers, or descry 
 The woods mid Autumn's golden glow; 
 
 Or hear the trickling streamlet flow. 
 God's sweetest music, birds and brooks. 
 
 Can scarcely be confined in books. 
 And yet, perhaps, may be conveyed 
 
 To some poor, crippled, helpless maid 
 Some touch of beauty, by my pen. 
 
 And so I dedicate to them 
 This little book and wish it power 
 
 To gladden many a cheerless hour. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR 
 
Foreword 
 
 What pleasant hours Fve lingered o'er 
 
 This work of love ! What treasure store 
 Of beauty, in the simple ryhme, 
 
 Have I discovered ! Often time, 
 Deep springs of love held depths of gold. 
 
 Which search revealed her heart to hold; 
 And memory, seeing through the years, 
 
 Has dimmed my eyes with heartfelt tears. 
 Unfinished was her work, a task 
 
 She left to me, and could I ask 
 
 A richer treasure than I've found ? 
 
 The seeds, bestrewn o'er hallowed ground. 
 Though often touched with grief and pain, 
 
 Have ripened into golden grain. 
 
 NEWELL BENNETT DAVIS 
 8 
 
How I Came to Enlist 
 
 Not eiveryibodly oaires for poetry & md miamy ipeople , on opening 
 tbe covers of th'Ls liittle boiok and isie'eimg it m a toook of versed- 
 will promptly turn ito the next book on tlie sibelf, unlleiss there 
 is something 'of dniteirest, other tlian rhyme, to a/ttraiot their at- 
 tenJtioni. The reason for ithiis ddtsMike of poeitry miay not ibe 
 evMenice that they 'are not good jiudgeis of wha't is good in rhyme 
 anid verse. I think it iis' often qnite tthe oppoi;$ite. DeeipHy hid- 
 den, lin thei/r natures is a great love of the beauties of poetry — 
 a love they dio not realize — ^and they have a natural ear for 
 metre. Their ear is 'Sienisitlve and dis easily offended, when 
 miisitakes are 'ma'die. Perhalpis these people would ihave gone 
 far, had they followed^ this line, instead of turning away, be- 
 oaiuse of other^s' imiisitakes, when the albility to isee these imiis- 
 takeis was perhaps onily proof of great niatural albility as a 
 critic. One of imy frieaidis (a .shrewd ibusiuesis imian*) ad^vised 
 me not 'to halve my toook entirely composed of poemis and 
 verses. He isiaidi, "^Have a heart to iheart talk with the people 
 aoid teill them wiho you are aaild wiiy yioiu aire writing the book 
 and what 'haippened to you an France. Don't think you are 
 egotiisitical in doing thiis. You're not. The people want to 
 know. Then they'll read your verses and isay 'This hooik was 
 revised by that man Davis and hiis verses were taken from 
 things hie isaw.' " 
 
 I wias working in the iSteuben Sainitarium, in Hornell» 
 N. Y., when the United iStates declared war on Germany. I 
 had not drealmield lotf going until one day, on the corner of 
 Broadway and 'Main istreets, my ibrother a'sked me if I was 
 going to enlist. That idea kept hothering me until one day I 
 went upstalins in the Kreaison Block and told iSergeant Frazinre 
 to islign me uip for the infantry. He did, land on May 10th, 1917 
 
imy tlhiiirty-jfiiffcb Ibirthday) I took ithe oaith of aaiegianice at 
 OoliuimibuiS Barracks amd clonmed my undfonni. 
 
 From therte I wais -seait to Texaia to joim my regiimieiiit. On 
 Jime ISth, 1917 (laift^r a trip to Texiais mwl ba^ck) I sailed from 
 New York ha-nbor (for Fraimee. Our fleet, I believe, wais the 
 fLrsit to land i.nfaantry in Franice- One day, on the way 
 ■a-croiss, I wa^s stamding ini ,a line (wliich we ca'l'led the lohow- 
 Jdne) wiaiitinig for dinner, or imess as the soldi<ers ealled it, I 
 had a letter lin my pocket, which I had received, while in New 
 York hiarbon, from my ibrother and I 'turned to the tsokller, 
 istanding 'be'Mind me liin line, and i.^howed him the letter. He 
 took it, lanid to my ,siirprl:se, read it complie^tely through, retnrn- 
 ing it to me w'iith the remark, "Say do yon know yon're my 
 co'iisiin?" I thought he waa orazy and that I 'had' better 
 buimoT Ihiiim iso I isaid, **No, Is that so?" "Well," he ^aid, "Did 
 you ever know a m'atn ioi' Oaniisteo by the name of "Baiteman 
 MieKeani?" "Yes)," I isir.ld, "I had -an rnc^Ie, Bateman Mc- 
 Kean." "Weffl," mid he, "he wais imy ifathen." 
 
 ,He wais two years older than I and he pro'V'ed to he a very 
 aigreeialb'le 'coimipaniiioni. iHe had Ibeeu' dn the airnny nearlliy twenty- 
 five yeairs, coiunting dooiiWe time, w^hdicih lat one time was 
 alLowed for foreig'n serviice,. The verse entitled, "Old Mae," 
 wais written laibout him, just before I wais wounlded at Oanitigny. 
 He wais Sfaiter k'ilUed lat Soiissous. 
 
 After landing lin ;St. iNazaiLre we were isent to the town of 
 St. Amand,, lais descriihed in the verse "Hiardtaek Bill," and 
 unitil the 'Stprinig of 1918, were put through 'an exteusive eourse 
 of training, with only la ten days ti-Jip to the iSomervilMer Sec- 
 !t0'r, near Nancy. The early .sprinig of 1918 we suffered con- 
 isiderablly from the wet and cold. Once, while on imanenvens, 
 we isleipt in lan old French hiaim withi ithe doors and windows 
 'Openi to the we^ather, no fire, and the thermometer ten degreeis 
 ibelow zero. (However, we eadh hiad two hlianlkets, a ponich'.i, 
 ishelter-half, and lovercoat, hii!t no straw. Often I 'have seen 
 ®oldiieris, 'uniahle to release their shoes, 'wlMch were frozen to 
 the floor, istanid reveille io their iStocking feet in the isuow. 
 
 lO 
 
In the ^ring of 1918, my regimeiiit was iseii't to Sedichepriey 
 for a .thirty days -trip to the treniehes. iWe founld this rather 
 lai ibusy place a^d the timt Divi'sion lost, in killed, wounded 
 atnd imisising, thirty-eight offi'cers and five hundxed land four 
 men. 
 
 I 'Spent thinty-one day® there ((beiuig kept over one 
 day las giuide ifor troops relievinjg ns, and I had many close 
 calls anid wais ibadliy gaasied with tchlloi-ine gais. 
 
 'Cl'Oise calls, of course, are a part of a day'^s work in the 
 treniehes and a isoldier .rairely pays -much attention to the close 
 oneis but gO'es on 'until he is Mt, then,, iif lucl^y, he can rest 
 at ease in a nice white bed in the hO'Spital for months and 
 meditate on what a lucky fellow he was. Perhaps dt may nioit 
 be ani'iss to nuention a few 'such iniciden'ts which occurred to 
 me and which will no doubt find a parallel in the average 
 isolldier's experiemceis under .shellfii-e. 
 
 With a comlpany runner na^med Orr, I was lying in a slhal- 
 •low duigout, in Death Valley, near Cantigny, when a .large 
 Gernuan shell struck the ground so near ns as to rattle dli^rt in 
 our faces, bnt it idid not explodej- Orr lateT diied in my larinis, 
 as deisicrilbed 'in "Hardtack Bill," frokn the explosion <Nf an- 
 other isliell. The reist of the verse was taken fro'm other char- 
 acters. 
 
 Once, at .Seicheprey, I was sliifcting on a ipowder cam in the 
 tretoiches when Liien tenant iMorrdson, of the 28th Infantry, 
 motioned to me. I had sca'rcely left the place where I was 
 sitting when a ishelil exploded, blowing three large holes ini the 
 powder canu After motiioning to me. Lieutenant Morrisoo 
 (wiho later died of wounds) told me to take /two .men and go to 
 /the first line treniehes to isee if I could obtain news of two 
 sconts sent across No /Hani's Land. I choose a man named 
 Livin|gs and another and we .started out through the commnii- 
 icating trench toward a little ValU'ey, which we musit pass 
 through lin go/ing to the front iinea. There were no trenches 
 in the ivalley, as any ditch dug would promptly fill with water, 
 
 II 
 
ISO the only protection we had was la fence imade of bruslh to 
 hidje us from the view of the GremmaoQis. 
 
 The iGermiainisi were droppinig Large ishelils there lui'til the 
 air wais full of flyintg meital and I knew it wa^s lalmoist sure 
 death to try to Iplaisg. Hoiwever we .bad our orders and there 
 wais no turniiuig Ibaick. We 'm'ust iget 'tlirou£,*ii- -rnsit a;s we 
 a^rrived lat the valley, the 'Germ'anis, if or 'Some reason, stopjied 
 isendiing the isheilLsi there. We orosisedi in safety, ■aicconipriis'hed 
 (Our imiisisiion and returned, Ibut bad scarcely recrossed the dian- 
 ^erouis pliaice wheo the Germian ishelLs again set up their 
 thunderous iroair. 
 
 12 
 
The Battle of Cantigny 
 
 The ndght of M:ay 2Tth, 1018. we of the 2Sth Infantry em- 
 bark^ed m truck-s for tlie treiichesL We h'ad 'been honored by 
 Greneral Pershing, being chosen as the r^gimeat to take Can- 
 tigny (and 'S'trai-gli'ten the Allied line ait that point. The F.reneh 
 land Biiiitiish troops bad both tried to taike Cantigny bu(t failed, 
 so it wais regarded as a very hot plaoe in the line. 
 
 'Cantigny was the fiast battle of the war in which the 
 Amerjidan forces hjad an offentsdve p:irt, iSo every preloaution was 
 taken to linoure siwoeeis.^ We were strengthened by fourteen 
 tanks and twenty aeropkne^' and aliso by a company of French 
 troops with Mquid fire. 
 
 We had, far back of the Idneis,. rehearised tbe work we were 
 to do untia the officer.? and men had a fair iDndersfcandinig of 
 what wais expected of them. RidiLng thirouigh the towns and 
 villages we were enthaisiiaistacally greeted by the Fremoh and 
 we waved and cTieered in returm. As we da-ew near the battle 
 front we heiaird the /roar, am:! saw, continually, the fliaish of guns. 
 
 The open Fre^nch trucks in whit'h we rode were iSO crowded 
 wiith men and equipment we had little room to isit down, and 
 a latrge gaisoLmie itanik in ea<5li miade smoking danigerous. The 
 truicks followed closely one behind the other over the isplen'diid 
 French road's, making very good tiime passing through towns 
 neiar the front, wMch were nearly destroyed by isihelLs from 
 long irangie guns and bombs dTopped dncning aeroplane Tiaid®. 
 
 We siaw men and women isiititinig sadly on their door-isteps, 
 ihield In those idanigerouis (places by their love of home. How- 
 ever, a® gais ihas been known to kill fifteen jniles, we isa/w very 
 few woimen lor oivlliians as we neared the baittle front. We rode 
 umtil iwlthin danger of the enemy gunis, then unloaded and 
 maTchied into the itrenehes. 
 
 The equipmenit earried by eaich imamt conisisited of a I'igtot 
 
 13 
 
paic-ik, -two icaniteeiiis of water, (riifflei, biaiyonet, steei -helmet, two 
 giais maisk's ia'n>dl two 'bumidred land twenty pooioid's of lamttnuntition. 
 In itlie paick we carried po-mcbo, isliel'ter-hiaiLf, clothing, meisskit, 
 sha'vin;g ouitfiit, toilet artidles anid personial 'belongings. AVe 
 bad left our Iblanikets bethiimd a® ithe weather wais wiarm. 
 
 Of 'the two gais-maisks we considered the Euglis'h respirator 
 superior to the Frenich masik w.hit-h we ca>rrieid to use if the 
 Enigllish respira'tior wais to>m toy bu'lletsi or shi'iapnel. The belt 
 conitaimimig one bundred rounds o-f lamtmunition we 'bad wom 
 m all OUT bikeis >aind drills-. For tbils battflie we bad beeni isuip- 
 plied wiltb two extra bandoliers containlnig .sjixty rouudts eacb, 
 which we wore over our sihoulderis. Many boya a^Lso filled their 
 pockets with exitra eantrid^eia 
 
 lOn leaivimg the trucks we imiaiicbed In the Toad's ais daTk- 
 nesis bad faiHen. It wais not necesisiary for the iregiment to keep 
 together. The 'Conilpany eommanldens understood tiie position 
 itbeir itroops were to occupy in the trendheis so they proiceeded 
 by di^f erenit Toadis. 
 
 We tratveled as quietly ais posisibile, all ordens toeing paisised in 
 whaisperis. We anarcbed in long rowis, eaob man about ten feet 
 beibind: the man ahead of him. A isihell exploding in our ranks 
 would not wound or kiHl so miamy mem marching in siu<!'b 
 foiraniaition. 
 
 iMy position wais at the rear of our comipany to wa'tcb itbe 
 liin^e. It would ba-ve been very eaisy to lose a man badly 
 wounded In the darknesis. We remained in the roadis ais long 
 as we could. The Oermanis bad the babiit of islbelling tbiem at 
 itotervaHs to catch troops entering or leaving the treniches. 
 Tbey kniew the location of itbe roads toy aeroplane mapis. 
 
 The i^ellis toeigao ibunsting dlose to us. We took to tihe 
 fiijeldis. We goit a little nervous tout foirtunately did not lose 
 aniy imien. lAlong the road was strung a great tangile of barb- 
 wire and we bad difficulty in getting tbrough with our loads. 
 We had gome onliy a isborit diistamce tbrouigh the fields wihen we 
 
 H 
 
were again, h'eaivily shelled. By crouchiimg down and taking 
 adivtaoaitage of islidll holes we again eslcaped injury. 
 
 Laiter we were obliged to wait and hug the gromid while 
 Geranian laercfplaneis hovered overhead. We 'knew the German 
 aeroplanes from the French iby the hum of the motors and ex- 
 pected every momerut to he discovered. Rocket® from the 
 trenic!h>e:s soared hiigh in the adr anid floiatinig lom small paira- 
 chuteis lighted the sky, mafein'g our isltuatLon very dantgerous'. 
 
 Owing no doiiibt to the color of our clothing laand 'to the 
 fact that small clouds in llie sky sent ishadowis aicrosis the open 
 fields we were not discovered and flinially reached our iposiiitions 
 in ithe trencllnes. 
 
 There we found the Frenieh troops. They left for the rear 
 when we relieved them. The company of the 2Sth Infantry had 
 not yet aa-rived on our 'left, iso the Frenchmen' in thait sector 
 had to istay. The French entered or left the tren^ehes by twos 
 or three's, but we were at alii timeis lied hy our officers 
 atod we entered and (left the treniches in eiinigle file. 
 
 The Germianis were shellinig on our left with- dMorinie ©as- 
 s'hella and las the wind l>lew the fumes toward us wie ihad to 
 put on our gais-ima'Sks and the Fienich also put on itheirs. As 
 it wais imy duty to test the adr for gais and decide wlheni lit was 
 isafe to iremove our ma'sks, I did not get any isleep that night. 
 Soime of the boys caught shiort naps. 
 
 I iremembeir the dugout of our Captain Tact. It wa® a hole 
 dug ini the side of the trench with a heavy Ibliamlket nailed oiver 
 a frame work entrance, preventing light from esealping and atf- 
 fording slight protection from gais. Thiree or four itimes dur- 
 ing the night when the fumes were more pronounced, I warned 
 him of gais as he 'Sat working over his maps. 
 
 iGodng over to visit the French troops, I found one of the 
 
 sentries neiar a dugout door not weaTing his gais^miaisk. As he was 
 
 sitaniding in a low place, and ga® is heavier than lair, I mein- 
 
 tioned. the danger of leaving it off. We coujld not underataoid 
 
 ^5 
 
each other veTy weltl, "but when I showed him jstome o,f the other 
 sentries with )t:heir imas'ks on, he put on- his mask. 
 
 Albout 4 :45 in the imto.rni.ng our artillery sitaTted 'a very 
 heaivy ihairnaige upon the town €lf Cantigny and Ihe Ger^main 
 poisition®. Our guns -were vei-y heavy and we had collecteil 
 an unusual num'bea*. In fact our officers had t'old Uis it was 
 to be ithe heaiViest barrage of the war for .the laimouut of ground 
 to (be islhelled. We were about a mile from the town and had 
 a c;lear view. This remarkalble and uniusual ispectaclie of a 
 lainge town being piiaictically hLown off the map held our inter- 
 eis't land reilieved the ten,sion of waiting to go over the top. On 
 our iright we co-uld see the shells of the tremch-mortaris ais they 
 hovered in the air and we watched them as they drqpped to 
 explliode with tremendous force in the town, tiirowing great 
 fo'Ulnitainis of dirt and chalk^dust high in the air. 
 
 During our barrage of the town the exiplosions were con- 
 tinuous and stupendous. The town seemed to spit fire and 
 .smoke and the mighty cr^aish and roar made lit iseem at timeisi ais if 
 the sky would crack opeui, whiie ithe shootiing flaoneis reiseimlbled 
 a hu'ge ihuinich of fire-cratcikea-s exploding. The ismoke I'ose 
 sitrajighit in the air not interfering with our view. It did not 
 seem possible a German could be 'left ali've or a part of a build- 
 ing leift 'Sfcanlding 'in the towni. Waiting in the treniches, I pic- 
 tured in !my imind the Geiimao soildiens of Cantiginy huidd-led in 
 'tlhedir dugouts and their great surprise and fright at such a 
 lyairrage. 
 
 TheiT airtiLlea-y was answering ouns, trying to render it leis.B 
 efff^tive. We were not dn miJch danger during this aDtiliery 
 ibajttle, except from stray bullets. We were between the two 
 powis of gTnn»s and the air overhead wa® alliive with s'hedlls and 
 imachilie-gun bulletis, pa^sisiing untijl it seiemed itliey would meet 
 in the air. The bullets \^';h lined and the siheirus 
 •made a conitdnual humming song. We could folow the course 
 of the nearer ones' hy sound 'but could mot see them. Off in 
 the distance, beyond the horizon, we couid hear the crash of the 
 
 i6 
 
'gWQia from ibotli isiides w^hicih W'ere seaidlng the shells over our 
 lieadig. Our a.rti'llery, heisides shelLiiig the town was a.lso seud- 
 ing shells over ito the Ge'rman ba'tteroes. 
 
 We were in the second wave. Ahead of us was our fliTist 
 ■wave oocupyi-ng our front 'I'lne treuich. When we started 
 over the top everything had to be done aieoordinig to time, so all 
 vour officers' wat'ohes toad been timed to the seeomld. Our fLnst 
 waive was to haive a ba'nraige precediimg it. The baTinaige was 
 a igcreeni of bursbinig shells to hide ithem from the Germ'anis. 
 Behiaid t.li»e first wlave but ahead of us was to be our barrage. The 
 range of our guiis sendimg the ^lienjLs of the barragets,, was to 
 inicreaise so 'many fe>et a seeoind. The ^Taves of our men were 
 to wa'Ik slowly, so many feet a .second, screened from the sight 
 of the Gei-m-aois by the burgting shells ahead of them. The 
 waves of m'en minst not go too fast or too slow or 'they would 
 he killed by the ishieflUs from out own ©una. 
 
 Owr baimage of the towm and Genmiain batteries <?0(ntiniued 
 about two houns. At 6:45 came our great moment. It was 
 the zero hour. The time had come to go over the top. We 
 liad tradned iai Fraince for eleven months for what must now 
 l>e accomi^Mi^ed. The Captain was lootal-ng at Ibis watch and 
 aloiuig the line in our trench to see that all the men were ready. 
 He h^d up his hand. We looked for foot-hoLds to get out of 
 the trench. 'He lowered hiis ha.nid and motioned us to follow. 
 We crowded closely after him and formed m rows in pl:ijtoon 
 column. He took the lead in one row and motioned me to 
 brimig up the rear. 'Rows of our mem were forming on both 
 sides and I knew the first wave was f orminig beyond the screen 
 •of isii^ls bursting a'head of us. 
 
 Our artillery 'began Increaising the ramge of our guns slowly 
 anid we started w*ith our heavy loads iploddlmg towa^rd our front 
 line treniches. Our fiiisit wave was crossing No Man's Lanld. 
 We jiulmped, with difficulty, over ouir .front line trenlches and 
 started across No Man's Dand. The body of a soldier was a 
 little to my left. He looked Hke an Algerian. The body mu^ 
 
 17 
 
have been left on the field a. long time and I did not care to 
 be nearer to it. 
 
 The sua wiao isihiming briglitly aii-d I thought of walking 
 down Broadway and that perhaps my ^iT;s)t trip over the top 
 waia nob to he so dangerous after aill. Suddenly a little puff 
 of dust spurted up juist ahead of me and one of my comrades in 
 tlie YKjUw to miy left i&anik isiilent^ly down' laand I g^amced to 'my 
 rijght and 'sa w sieveral hoys lying here a'nd there on the ground. 
 The boys ins my row scattered a little but mone dropped. Sev- 
 e*rail buWetis )Struck with a peculiar meta/lMe sound near us 
 throwing up little spurts of dust. 
 
 More boys were falMnig constantly and I noticed out bar- 
 rage :had lliifted, leavinig us im pliaim view of tlie Germans. As 
 tihe fi'rst wave had reached their objecitive and stopped, our 
 balrrage W'OulM "have killed them^ had it continued. Our 
 artillery haJd started shelliing the German; artillery, to quiet 
 their shelll-tfire, aind wais also se'a.r<?hing out imiachinengun nests. 
 
 Waitdhiimg Oaptain Tact, I isiaw him motion to run and we 
 scurried like a huneh of scared rabbits for the Geiimau' front 
 iline ti*ench. I iiotiiccd I waiS 'mjaking tremendous speed and I 
 ihiaid forgotten I haid a pack. We scattered as we ran and it 
 was every man for himiself with no formation. As boys drop- 
 ped, otihers picked them up taking -them dnto the trenc'hes. It 
 was my duty to sttay near the Captain, so I juimped into the 
 trench near him, the bullets whining and humming all about 
 me but I saw no Germans. 
 
 Standing near 'Captain Tact, I looked back into what "had 
 been No M'ani's Land. Out there were boys stilll coming across 
 and one boy dropped. No one waB near 'him to help -him. Cap- 
 tain Taot also saw him aaid I asked to go after lilim He re- 
 fused to let me goi, saying, "No ! He's too far out." Anotiher boy 
 dropped, not quite so far out, and the Ca(ptain said, "You 
 may .get him if you wiish." 
 
 I climbed out of the trencb and ran swiftly to where he 
 i8 
 
wa'9 lyiji®. iHe Wa,s a member of my comcyaany 'aaiid recogmzSng 
 Mm I sakl, "Hiello." He llookeid up bint did not speiak. His 
 rigbt foot wais blowD off at itlie aiikie laaid vvais bleedln-g. Lift- 
 ing him ito bis feet I plaiced my Highit ainm >a.roiinJd lli'iis wiaiis-t, 
 ;an)d ea,rrying moist of his weiglut istarted baick toward Captain 
 Tact. The iboy hopped on bis left foot 'aind we were making 
 good time when a ibiillet .struck me in the front of the neck. 
 Going throuigh -mly chest it eame out under my right arm spin- 
 ning me halLf way round, but I did not fail. It rendered imy 
 riight arm helpless and it dropped to my side, letting the boy 
 drop to the ground. 
 
 Unatble to help tlie iboy flarfhei- land knowing my great 
 danger, exposeid in the open in plain isight of the Germ'ans, I 
 realized my only chance wals to i-eacii shelter; and although 
 eveirything was in a sort of idaze, I fought my way 
 t>aek to eonsciousness to find I liad kept my feet -and wais stand- 
 imig lOver the German f rojut 'line trench from wMch I hiad start- 
 ed out. The 'trench wais deep and marrow and 'miy larm wats 
 iswinginfe Jielplessliy land I did not 'see how I could enter the 
 trench without injury to my wound. Then tearing the put, 
 put, put, of madhine-guns and reaaizing I wa^s standing a tar- 
 get aimid la Tain of ibiulllet.s, I jumped into the trench with the 
 
 words, "To with it." The Gaptladn hound up my wound 
 
 and the boyis laid me behind a pile of dirt near tllie tirenlcli. My 
 clothing had been cut away and I wais cold. Later I iheard 
 the hoy wais doing well in a liospital ha-ving crawled into the 
 German front line trench. 
 
 Alii idiay the German baa-rage . continued. The exploding 
 i^hells often thr^w dint over the ipondho covering me. I could 
 hear the ishellis cominig and listening carefully would try to teW 
 how near each shell woulld land. Sometimes when a shell 
 seemed to he carry in'g my nuniber I would have ducked my 
 head (but hy that time I could not raise my head nor move my 
 
 right arm. 
 
 The Germans oatoe over m'any itfcmes that day hut the boys 
 
 19 
 
drove them iback. Most of the tiine I slept or was unfooniscious ; 
 but im my wakiii'g speLLs, noting the escitemen't, I wondered 
 whiat wou'ld hiaippen if the Germans proved too sitrooog, and 
 whiat ithey would do to a wounded priisoner. 
 
 Ollhe Frenieh oanteen iissued me for this ibattle !had' proven 
 uiniservieeable but my American camteeni was full of water. 
 Durfiing the dlay I drank lall of that, for my thirst was very 
 grea't The boys also gave me water from (their canteemsi A 
 ilemon hiad been issued each man and mine was a great heUp 
 in relieving my thinst. 
 
 In the afternoon the Captiin gaive me tsome <!ihoeoiate he 
 h!ad warmed over tsome canned fire, and told me I would be 
 'the second man taken to the rear. 
 
 After dark I was carried on a sttretx^lher to the field dsressr 
 iing-staitiion. The old French budldiiig of heavy stone was so 
 filled with wounded that I was placed with 'many others be- 
 neaith the trees in the yard. Someone kindly llald a short pdece 
 of planik over my body to protect me fridm ishrapneil buirsting 
 over'head. They also laid a full-rolled p»aek against my bead. 
 
 The slielll^fLre >wias unfustialily heavy at the dressiing-'Station, 
 which shows the German's method of Warfare* Twice that 
 might I was awakened as sbrapnel struck the piece of board, 
 and onice a fra>gmenlt of shell hit sideiwise ag'aini^t my rijght 
 a-nkle making my leg numb. Pieces also penetrated' the pack. 
 
 About seven o'clock in the morniing I was placed in am 
 ambulaintce to be taken to a batse 'hospitall. I^eavinjg the dretssr 
 ing-fstiation, wliiich wals in a liiitftle valley, we 'had to go a iSlhort 
 dLstance down a road where the Germans had a dLstant view 
 of uis. Oiuir onlly safety lay in speed. We wivust pa:ss betfoire tiie 
 enemy gunis got our range. The ambulance crept up out of the 
 valliley fwith its load 'Off wounded, and then at fuLl speed' it went 
 down the road, tosising and pitcliing us about as it turned here 
 and there to dodge shell-holes, the shells bursting first om one 
 iside and them om the other. I elung .to the sti"etcher with both 
 feet and miy left 'hand, during this wild iiide wondering how 
 
 20 
 
.the driver ener kept the road. But he did, and we soon paissed 
 •out of :sig!ht of the GermaiKS. 
 
 The sheiU-fire grew less lais we got fiintlier away aind the 
 roads ib^came sniootihea* iinitii at Laist we pa.ssied etnitirely out of 
 nanige anid I drew a. sigh of relief a.s I thought, "Well, all I 
 have to do now is to get weUL." 
 
 The enemiy ha.rrage was istiill roaring ia^way when I left the 
 field .and tihe Germans tried baird to retake Oantigny miaiily times 
 but the 28th helld all they had eaiptiired unstil they were final- 
 ly relieved from that selctor. 
 
 Corp. Newellil B. Davis 
 
 Co. 1. 28th Inf. Ist DivMon 
 
 21 
 
The Storm 
 
 Clouds are o'er the Heavens spreading 
 Leaves in flurries, trees are shedding 
 As the storm approaches; dreading — 
 
 It I'm waiting here. 
 Hark, there comes so gently falling 
 Raindrops, then, a light enthralling — 
 Jagged — dazzling — so appalling 
 
 That I start in fear. 
 Through the window it comes streaming 
 Sets the Earth and Heavens gleaming 
 Shows the trees — wind tossed — careening 
 
 As the storm draws near. 
 Then, a crash of thunder pealing — 
 Awful — grand — sublime — 'tis stealing 
 O'er my senses quite revealing 
 
 Majesty to my ear. 
 Lightning o'er the Heavens streaking; 
 Wind that's howling, roaring, shrieking ;" 
 'Tis the voice of God — He's speaking 
 
 Speaking loud and clear. 
 
 22 
 
''Lord," I say "Thy servant waiting 
 Sitteth here, in fear, debating 
 At the works of Thy creating 
 
 Wondrous they appear. 
 Awe inspiring is Thy Splendor'' 
 Then the sunshine comes to render — 
 Like a wondrous smile and tender — 
 
 Joy, relief and cheer. 
 Glorious, beautiful, brightly gleaming, 
 is the rainbow. Softly beaming. 
 Through my window, sweetly streaming, 
 
 Rays of sunshine peer. 
 
 23 
 
Blessing's 
 
 All that is left of the sunshine is the beautiful after- 
 glow. 
 It makes me think of the winter, when the earth will 
 
 be covered with snow. 
 All are now fed and sheltered by the harvest and 
 
 Nature's warm blue, 
 But soon the blasts of winter will chill us through 
 
 and through. 
 Softly the shadows of twilight, wondrous indeed to 
 
 behold, 
 Steal on the wings of the evening, covered with roses 
 
 and gold ; 
 Softly the stars of the Heavens, shine from the 
 
 evening sky ; 
 Slowly the beautiful colors mingle and fade and die. 
 Shadows around me deepen; gone, is the sunset's 
 
 glow; 
 Night draws a mantle of darkness over the earth 
 
 below ; 
 But clouds have a silver lining, which the light of 
 
 day will bring ; 
 While the deepest snows of winter make way for the 
 
 flowers of spring. 
 
 24 
 
Perfection 
 
 •'Be satisfied with light I give. 
 You may not know the truth and hve." 
 Were man to draw the veil, and peep behind, 
 
 Wherein lie truths beyond our power to scan, 
 What depth and beauty of the Infinite Mind, 
 
 That rules and guides the destiny of man. 
 Would be revealed. The hand that forms on high 
 
 The countless suns and whirls them into space. 
 To decorate with stars our evening sky. 
 
 Has wondrous patience still to stoop and place 
 Within the petals of the rose, the rare. 
 
 Sweet perfume, and to charm our inmost soul 
 With whispering poetry, borne upon the air, 
 
 Or with the waters in their ceaseless roll. 
 We thrill to learn some simple, sincere truth. 
 
 Adorned with beauty by the Hand divine. 
 And secrets wrung from nature hold the proof 
 
 Of perfect thought and fullness of design. 
 Ko sweeter sympathy, or richer love 
 
 25 
 
Is e'er expressed, or felt, or tendered here. 
 
 Than in communion with the One above ; 
 Contact reveals His presence ever near. 
 
 Unsealed by ages past, in mystery's folds. 
 Close-locked are life and death and space and time. 
 And wisdom, gathered with the centuries, holds 
 
 Of their solution, not a hint, a sign. 
 Outspreading from these parent stems are boughs 
 
 Whereon hang gifts for future good of man. 
 The supreme light shines forth ; His hand endows, 
 
 With treasures stored long ere the world began. 
 In silent contemplation man has sought. 
 
 With strange device and calm and patient skill. 
 To reach these truths ; but all his power of thought 
 
 Has left unsolved the wonders of God's will. 
 
 26 
 
Leisure Moments 
 
 With the lowing of the cattle, 
 
 As they wend their homeward way 
 Down the quiet, peaceful valley, 
 
 At the closing of the day. 
 Comes a time of joy and pleasure, 
 
 Leisure moments of delight. 
 When the work of day is ended. 
 
 Just before the shades of night ; 
 
 Moments, to my heart most precious, 
 
 With a restful beauty dress'd. 
 Which I seek as birds aweary 
 
 Homeward fly to seek their nests, 
 Moments, filled with golden promise, 
 
 Decking well the distant view 
 With all rainbow tints of color ; 
 
 Painting years a rosy hue; 
 
 Moving mountains from the pathway, 
 
 Making darkest corners shine. 
 All the wisdom of the ages, 
 
 All the treasures, may be mine 
 If I garner in the harvest 
 
 Which the flying moments yield, 
 As a reaper, with his sickle. 
 
 Gathers golden grains afield. 
 
 27 
 
A Woodland Rill 
 
 Where lofty pines and beeches hide 
 
 The naked rocks, on mountain's side, 
 
 All creatures stop and drink their fill, 
 
 At Nature's sparkling, rippling rill. 
 
 Did ever grape upon the vine. 
 
 Produce a rich and luscious wine. 
 
 However deep a red 'twould seem, 
 
 More tempting than this limpid stream? 
 
 Some choose the drink they call champagne 
 
 Or drinks distilled from golden grain. 
 
 But never drink appealed to me 
 
 As Nature's drink, so pure and free. 
 
 How sweet, beside the knarled pine. 
 
 Where roots fantastically entwine. 
 
 And green-gray mosses line the brink, 
 
 At woodland spring, to stoop and drink. 
 
 What liquid draughts of pure delight. 
 
 In dripping spray of filmy white. 
 
 Go dashing down the chiseled rift 
 
 Of lofty mount; a precious gift. 
 
 Which, hidden in the deep wood's fold, 
 
 Is pure as sunshine, sweet and cold. 
 
 28 
 
A Hunting Scene 
 
 Rich leather covers held a store 
 Of tales, replete with woodland lore, 
 And pictures of a dark, deep wood. 
 Showed where, in dim recesses, stood 
 The strong, bull moose, with antlers wide, 
 Disdainful in his stately pride; 
 Or in some shady, forest glade, 
 The timid deer, while half afraid. 
 With watchful eyes and nimble feet. 
 Would hesitate in swift retreat. 
 Within the forest's deep confine. 
 The colored sketch of rare design, 
 Revealed, amidst a dash of spray, 
 A mountain stream which raced away 
 To leap, in cascades sweet and cool, 
 And form a swirling, whirling pool. 
 Where speckled beauties lie in wait 
 And quickly rise to snatch the bait. 
 The stories dealt with rod and gun. 
 From early mom to setting sun ; 
 Described, along the river's brink, 
 The otter, beaver, and the mink ; 
 The habits of the grizzly bear; 
 
 29 
 
The silver foxes in their lair ; 
 And graphic tales, by campfires bright 
 Reflecting wild beasts' eyes alight, 
 Were filled with hostile Indian raids. 
 And told of outlawed renegades ; 
 Of hardships in the bitter cold, 
 While searching for the hidden gold ; 
 Of how, beneath the stars, men slept. 
 While Death's still circle closer crept ; 
 And, waking as the fire died low. 
 Of mortal combat with the foe. 
 Whilst reading by my shaded lamp. 
 Descriptions of that forest camp 
 Made me desire to try my skill. 
 And feel the lucky hunter's thrill. 
 My room was warm; the fire aglow; 
 Against the frosted pane, the snow, 
 In softly falling flakes of white. 
 Enhanced the beauty of the night. 
 The interesting stories read. 
 Reluctantly, I went to bed. 
 To fall asleep and find my dreams 
 Completely filled with hunting scenes. 
 The morning sun, with brilliant ray. 
 Gave promise of a perfect day. 
 The earth, in purest white, was dress'd. 
 The air was cold and held a zest 
 Which made me cheerful, light of heart. 
 And eager for an early start ; 
 
 30 
 
While in my veins that feeling ran, 
 
 The instinct of the primal man 
 
 Which through the years is living still 
 
 Within the blood, the lust to kill. 
 
 With rifle, lunch and cartridge belt, 
 
 Naught was neglected, so I felt. 
 
 My dog was bounding far ahead ; 
 
 A steady pace I took, instead. 
 
 Along a city thoroughfare. 
 
 The frosty tinge of morning air, 
 
 The crunching snow, the bright sunshine, 
 
 Made my blood glow like sparkling wine. 
 
 Sweet, was the thought of forest glen. 
 
 Away from busy haunts of men. 
 
 Deep in the forest's silent heart. 
 
 Cares, which invest the busy mart. 
 
 Fade as the mist before the sun. 
 
 The kindled mind and vigor won 
 
 Are breathed with air beneath pure skies, 
 
 In fields and woods God beautifies. 
 
 Along a road, all fringed with oak. 
 
 Freed of the taint of city's smoke, 
 
 I entered outdoor's broader land, 
 
 Not builded up by human hand. 
 
 Up from the valley's snowy spread, 
 
 The sharper inclined pathway led. 
 
 Companioned with a tumbled shack 
 
 And ruined wall, a golden stack 
 
 Of straw was crowned with jeweled white, 
 
 31 
 
And orbs of flame, when sunshine bright 
 
 Reflected, as the brilliant beam 
 
 Shines from the depths of gems agleam. 
 
 An old, warped shed held shadows deep, 
 
 Where cattle lay as half asleep 
 
 In calm content, and soft, brown eyes, 
 
 Which gazed without, held mild surprise 
 
 At playful antics of a colt 
 
 Which pranced about, as in revolt 
 
 At such a lazy, sluggish herd, 
 
 Which, resting quietly, seldom stirred. 
 
 Old age and youth, 'tis ever thus ! 
 
 One full of hope and life and trust ; 
 
 The other, staid, of thoughtful mien, 
 
 Content of other years to dream; 
 
 Old days, old faces dearer grown. 
 
 Old age must reap what youth has sov/n ; 
 
 Ahead, the promise or the tears 
 
 A harvest of the bygone years. 
 
 A straw-strewn path was ringed around 
 
 A hollow, circling the mound. 
 
 And, munching at the humble fare. 
 
 With sidelong glances, stood a mare. 
 
 Whene'er her colt was by her side. 
 
 Her dark eyes glowed ; two wells of pride. 
 
 Amid the peaceful, pasture scene, 
 
 Alert to danger, vision keen, 
 
 By wondrous instinct. Heaven sped; 
 
 She suddenly raised a startled head. 
 
 32 
 
Alarm abated, for she knew 
 
 Mankind as friendly. Interest grew. 
 
 With ears cocked front, she gave a neigh 
 
 And trotted toward me up the way. ' 
 
 Then, o'er the rustic gate, arose 
 
 Her shapely head. Her velvet nose, 
 
 In welcome, gently rubbed my arm ; 
 
 Friendship assured, and free from harm. 
 
 Affections of a deeper kind. 
 
 By magic touch, were brought to mind ; 
 
 And, as I stroked the silky mane, 
 
 Those happy creatures, safe and tame. 
 
 Made me perceive 'twas God's own plan 
 
 But followed by some kindly man. 
 
 With deep respect, I turned away 
 
 Toward where a wood stretched, bleak and gray 
 
 Then, crossing fields up steeper pitch, 
 
 I climbed a wall and jumped a ditch. 
 
 My hunting coat caught on a fence ; 
 
 Impatiently, I tore it hence — 
 
 A thing to rouse a good saint^s ire — 
 
 'Twas badly torn upon the wire. 
 
 The shadows of the bushes played 
 
 Upon the snow, a purple shade. 
 
 All dressed in white, a shock of corn, 
 
 An old man, stood below, forlorn. 
 
 Dishevelled brush held close embrace, 
 
 And fringed the rugged mountain's face. 
 
 Where rustling leaves of sapless brown 
 
 33 
 
Adorned the stunted thicket's crown, 
 
 And calm and peaceful, far below, 
 
 'Tween winding banks and sheets of snow, 
 
 The glittering streamlet's frozen bed 
 
 Adown the lovely landscape led. 
 
 Till, fading in the distant blue 
 
 Where sky met valley, wound from view. 
 
 How gently moved the zephyrs here ! 
 
 Profoundly quiet to the ear. 
 
 This tranquil mount held naught of strife 
 
 Or hurried rush ; a scene of life 
 
 Where hushed winds murmur in repose, 
 
 And seasons linger to their close. 
 
 Perpetual silence seemed to drowse 
 
 Where sturdy trees held lofty boughs 
 
 Incrusted with the frost and snow, 
 
 Which bright, cold burden dimmed the glow 
 
 Of morning sun. Thick branches bent, 
 
 Formed, high o'erhead, a silvery tent ; 
 
 And massive trunks held crystal gems ; 
 
 And limbs were crowned with diadems 
 
 Which glimmered with a radiant light; 
 
 A fairy palace jeweled in white. 
 
 Where, ages past, a mountain stream 
 
 Had torn the earth, a deep ravine 
 
 Held naught of game, nor could I find 
 
 A single track of any kind ; 
 
 No rustle in the underbrush, 
 
 Of rabbit, starting with a rush ; 
 
 No squirrels, playing far o'erhead. 
 
 34 
 
A perfect quiet reigned instead. 
 
 Midst pine trees, standing straight and tall, 
 
 I found a tiny waterfall. 
 
 The wondrous beauty of the place, 
 
 Subdued my longing for the chase. 
 
 The green of branches, hanging low 
 
 Against the whiteness of the snow, 
 
 By contrast, made those pine trees seem 
 
 The greenest of the evergreen. 
 
 The beauty of the solitude 
 
 Showed Nature in a quiet mood. 
 
 The overwhelming grandeur wrought, 
 
 As snowbound forest faintly caught. 
 
 Through silvery vaulted roof overhead, 
 
 The lovely sunbeam's golden spread. 
 
 Like music from the trickling stream. 
 
 Was beautiful, a work supreme. 
 
 Icicles fringed a rocky ledge; 
 
 Outsprjnging from the frosted edge, 
 
 The water formed a fan of spray 
 
 And flowed, ice-locked, upon its way. 
 
 An old pine log — 'twas Nature's seat; 
 
 A sudden thought — " 'Tis time to eat ; 
 
 A pleasant spot to rest and think, 
 
 Where sparkling pool will furnish drink." 
 
 What tales the aged pine could tell 
 
 Of wondrous days, a sentinel 
 
 Beside that pretty, woodland brook. 
 
 The pleasing pictures in my book, 
 
 35 
 
Perhaps, were painted by that stream. 
 The very pleasant campfire scene 
 Enacted in the dark, deep wood. 
 Was haply where that pine had stood. 
 A perfect Paradise of game, 
 But now the denizens were slain. 
 An empty silence seemed to creep 
 Through woods so lonely, vast and deep; 
 A solemn hush, as of the dead, 
 Whence happy, carefree life had fled. 
 'Twas like a shroud to overwhelm 
 The stranger in that cheerless realm. 
 God's helpless creatures, in the wild. 
 As harmless as a little child; 
 The birds, those harbingers of spring. 
 Whose songs had made the forest ring, 
 In search of necessary food. 
 Destroyed by men in sporting mood. 
 What kindly man, with dog and gun. 
 Will call it sport, aye, splendid fun. 
 To shed thedr blood ? What sordid gain 
 Atones for sprightly creatures slain ? 
 'Tis right to kill for daily bread, 
 But sinful when for sport instead. 
 With sense of realization, came 
 A crimson flush, a blush of shame. 
 My actions took on newer light ; 
 The wrong grew clearer, then contrite, 
 I vowed to let such creatures live, 
 
 36 
 
Nor take the life I could not give. 
 Head bowed in thought, again I strode 
 Along the lonely, oak-fringed road. 
 The cattle long had left their fold. 
 The sun sank low, a blaze of gold. 
 Long shadows had commenced to steal 
 Across the meadows. At my heel, 
 The weary dog held to my pace. 
 Footsore and wornout by the chase. 
 The wondrous book, my vivid dreams, 
 In contrast to the woodland scenes. 
 Had purged my heart of all desire 
 To maim or kill. A spirit higher 
 Decided me to hunt no more; 
 But, though my hunting days were o'er, 
 I'd tramp the woods again that way 
 To spend another pleasant day. 
 
 37 
 
Dewdrops 
 
 Dewdrops on the hillside, 
 
 Dewdrops in the air, 
 Dewdrops in the meadow, 
 
 Dewdrops everywhere, 
 Dewdrops on the house tops, 
 
 Dewdrops in the grass, 
 Drops of silvery beauty. 
 
 Glistening as we pass. 
 
 Jeweled drops of sunshine 
 
 Danger lurketh nigh. 
 Amber, gold and opal 
 
 Tint the eastern sky. 
 Rosy rays of morning; 
 
 As they warmer grow, 
 Heed my tender warning, 
 
 Dewdrops you must go. 
 
 38 
 
Dawn bursts forth in glory. 
 
 Blending yellow beams 
 Color all the landscape. 
 
 Sunlight's golden streams. 
 Midst the clustering dewdrops, 
 
 Thrust like shafts of gold, 
 Seeking e'en the shelter 
 
 Of the flower's fold. 
 
 Dewdrops do not linger, 
 
 Banks of vivid green, 
 Smile with glimmering sunshine 
 
 Down the murmuring stream. 
 Bosomed with thy fellows 
 
 In the ocean's deep, 
 Welcome shall await thee; 
 
 Shelter, rest and sleep. 
 
 39 
 
A Contented Mind Is a Continual Feast 
 
 We humbly bow to Thee, 
 
 Great God above. 
 In all Thy works we see 
 
 Thy wondrous love. 
 
 The mighty oak doth stand 
 
 So firm for Thee; 
 The little flowers proclaim 
 
 Thy majesty. 
 
 The oceans ebb and flow 
 
 Within Thy hand, 
 Bright stars at evening glow 
 
 At Thy command. 
 
 Oh then, why should we not, 
 
 Thy children, be, 
 Contented with our lot ; 
 
 At peace with Thee ? 
 
 40 
 
The Bottle 
 
 Sailors wanted to know how the currents flow 
 
 From the coast of our own native land, 
 So they gathered around and a bottle was found 
 
 Half buried in the sand ; 
 And the message they wrote was set afloat 
 
 Out o'er the bounding main. 
 As they placed it there they wondered where 
 
 They would hear from it again. 
 
 Out o'er the bounding billows, the bottle with the 
 message went, 
 As the soul of a man is set adrift 
 In an endless firmament; 
 Out midst the lightning's flash, where the wild 
 waves madly roll, 
 To be tossed like a cork in the stormy sea 
 Or dashed on a hidden shoal. 
 
 41 
 
How like our lives! For we drift along-. 
 
 When the world is sunny and bright, 
 As the bottle danced on the rippling sea 
 
 While the clouds were silvery white. 
 How like our lives ! For the stormclouds show. 
 
 And the black overshadows the blue ; 
 But the clouds break away for a perfect faith 
 
 And a smile will carry you through. 
 
 When buffeted about, and sorely dismayed. 
 
 When, heartsick, you almost despair. 
 When the bright tints of color all fade into shades. 
 
 Leaving naught but a gray shadow there ; 
 Make the service you render a duty well done. 
 
 And be not afraid of the storm, 
 And with comfort and pleasure you'll think of that 
 hour 
 
 When safely to harbor you're bom€. 
 
 On a lovely green isle, in the midst of the sea, 
 The bottle with the message was found. 
 
 It was over a year, since it first left the pier 
 But the message was safe and sound. 
 
 And ships, of all nations, all over the world, 
 Take the course the bottle had gone, 
 
 42 
 
For currents flow ever, an unceasing aid. 
 To hasten the steamers along. 
 
 When cast in the surf, from Eternity's shore. 
 
 When tempest, or danger, betide us. 
 There's a kind, loving Hand to ever watch o'er, 
 
 Influence, protect us and guide us. 
 While often discouraged, we linger along. 
 
 Or just seem to drift with the tide. 
 Yet a wonderful pattern may be woven, in gold. 
 
 By the good our lives may hide. 
 
 If the bottle sailed over tempestuous seas, 
 
 Where the waters were raging and churning, 
 To float, midst the ripples, up some quiet bay 
 
 We may, without doubting or turning. 
 Disperse the dark barriers of evil and pain 
 
 In the light of a God-given task; 
 And, emboldened in spirit, sail o'er the dark main 
 
 To reach a safe haven at last. 
 
 43 
 
The Nails in The Post 
 
 Taken from a story told by Rev. E. P. Hubbell of Corn Hill 
 Church, Rochester, N. Y. 
 
 A father, who had a wayward son, 
 Took him to task for deeds he'd done 
 And the boy, repentant, told his dad, 
 'I've tried to be good though I've been bad, 
 But other boys will lead me astray 
 Doing these things while we are at play." 
 After his words, the father replied, 
 ''Here is a way, I think, will decide 
 Which pathway in life you are going to pursue, 
 And whether your deeds will be evil or true." 
 Then, he took a stick, both straight and tall. 
 And he drove it deep by the garden wall. 
 *'Now for each bad deed," he said, "Don't fail 
 To drive in the post the enlightening nail 
 And not over a year will pass, at most. 
 Till I meet you here, so watch the post; 
 Each nail will show me some deed that's bad, 
 The post will show me your conduct lad." 
 
 How proud was the boy, as the first days passed 
 Without any nails, but, heedless at last, 
 
 44 
 
He did wrong things, then sorry, he'd try 
 To better his deeds as the days went by ; 
 And, true to his promise, he did not fail 
 I'o drive in the post the much dreaded nail. 
 A year is long and the careless deeds 
 Flourished, as grow the noxious weeds, 
 Which crowd the flowers of good aside. 
 Until, sickened of evil, they have faded and died. 
 The nails increased and the boy ashamed 
 Of the deeds for which he'd once been blamed, 
 Found other boys with whom to play. 
 His lesson sank deeper every day. 
 And the wisdom in his father's plan 
 Was making the boy a better man. 
 
 As, day by day and week by week. 
 
 Out in the garden, the boy would seek 
 
 The post, that stood by the garden wall, 
 
 To drive a nail with a handy mall. 
 
 He thought of the tender hearts to grieve 
 
 It the end of the year would come and leave 
 
 The post abristle with nails, which showed 
 
 No love for the kindness his parents bestowed ; 
 
 And his face grew sad, and tears v/ould start, 
 
 As he drove the nails which pierced his heart. 
 
 Summer and winter, spring and fall. 
 
 Had passed and the post, by the garden wall, 
 
 Held nails, which ringed it row on row, 
 
 45 
 
With pictures and strange designs below, 
 
 But the boy in his art took no delight. 
 
 The nails, which gleamed as an armor bright, 
 
 To him, brought sorrow and deepest shame, 
 
 And he grieved as he thought of his father's pain. 
 
 His father's face was grave and sad, 
 
 To find his boy had been so bad. 
 
 He kindly asked the reason why. 
 
 And the boy repli>ed, 'The months went by 
 
 And the chance I had, and greatly prized, 
 
 Was gone before I realized ; 
 
 And the nails increased, before I knew 
 
 The harm an evil life would do. 
 
 Later, though I lived my best. 
 
 My early deeds had spoiled the rest." 
 
 The father wiped away a tear 
 
 And said, "We'll try another year 
 
 And I have a plan and by it I'll know 
 
 How much atonement this lesson will show. 
 
 For deeds that are loving, kind and true. 
 
 Showing improvement in life for you, 
 
 Withdraw a nail from where it is placed. 
 
 We'll see, in time, if you have erased 
 
 The thought of the bad, by deeds that are good, 
 
 While drawing the nails out of the wood. 
 
 The post will show me the kindness you do 
 
 When I meet again in a year with you." 
 
 46 
 
The boy then, strove with all his might 
 
 To show he'd learned his lesson right. 
 
 No better boy was ever known ; 
 
 He began by starting in at home, 
 
 And the teacher marveled while at school ; 
 
 He seemed to live by the golden rule. 
 
 No longer indifferent, or unkind. 
 
 He watched his chance and sought to find 
 
 The lonely hearts, where words brought cheer, 
 
 Where once he would laugh and gibe and jeer. 
 
 He never was rude, or impolite. 
 
 But tried to live as a good boy might 
 
 Who loved his parents, and he was blessed, 
 
 For the nails in the post grew less and less. 
 
 His kind deeds brought him many friends. 
 
 And the happiness which a good life sends. 
 
 Plainly, the lesson served to show 
 
 The truth his father wished he'd know. 
 
 That service for others serves to bring 
 
 The best, in your life, of everything : 
 
 The enjoyment in a good deed done; 
 
 The love and good will of everyone; 
 
 The gratitude, and friendship, earned 
 
 Are the greatest payments e'er returned. 
 
 The good habits formed brought contentment and 
 
 joy, 
 Greatly transforming the life of the boy; 
 Kicher and broader, in every way, 
 
 47 
 
Was the life he led and — dwindling away — 
 
 Before the second j^ear had gone, 
 
 The last of the nails had all been drawn. 
 
 So the boy was filled with manly pride 
 
 As he and his father, side by side, 
 
 Stood once again by the garden wall. 
 
 Where the post was standing, straight and tall. 
 
 But Oh, what a post ! Just a shipwrecked beam, 
 
 With many a hole and crevice and seam. 
 
 Each nail left a print, like a scar, in the wood; 
 
 Battered and tattered, the old post stood 
 
 A disfigured relic; the battlefield. 
 
 Where ghastly wounds and cuts revealed 
 
 How the battle had raged ; as in the heart of the boy, 
 
 Where good must conquer or the bad will destroy. 
 
 As the father noticed the damage wrought, 
 His son, by his face, had caught his thought, 
 A.nd all pride of good was lost in shame, 
 While his father said no word of blame 
 He promised himself, in every deed. 
 He'd strive to live so as never to leave, 
 In his life, a wound, which like the post. 
 Though equaled by good left a scar at most ; 
 But, always, he'd let some good deed prevail 
 Over deeds which were wicked and needed a nail. 
 
 48 
 
Darling 
 
 Bill Darling was the worst old man to borrow what 
 I had, 
 
 And, through that gol-dinged habit, he got me in 
 pliim bad. 
 
 He often borrowed money, if I had the change to 
 spare. 
 
 And never paid me back a cent, he didn't seem to 
 care; 
 
 But there's another little point I started out to tell, 
 
 And I hope, in dealin' with him, I've learned my les- 
 son well. 
 
 He come ten miles t'other day to ask me for a loan. 
 Not for money. No — sir — ree, but for my hoss, the 
 
 roan. 
 I think a lot of that old hoss and, though I near said 
 
 "No," 
 He lowed he'd give him lots of oats and bring him 
 
 back just so. 
 Now, while I got the old roan back, that isn't why 
 
 I'm sad ; 
 I'll try and tell you how it was Bill got me in so bad. 
 
 You see, with hayin' comin' on, I needed that old 
 roan, 
 
 49 
 
And so I thought to be a sport and use the telephone. 
 I found one at the grocery but though I spoke perhte 
 It wouldn't answer me at all. I thought I'd done it 
 
 right, 
 And so, sez I, 'T\\ give it up and walk the whole 
 
 blame ten," 
 But, turning round to go, I heard a holler from the 
 
 men; 
 
 "You dinged old fool," one sez to me, "Why don't 
 
 you use the hook? 
 And if you want a number you'll find it in the book." 
 I figured that this feller had as much sense as the 
 
 roan; 
 They told me to call central, then I made my wishes 
 
 known. 
 I heard a voice. It said, **Hello," but didn't sound 
 
 like Bill; 
 He must a had an awful cold to make his voice so 
 
 shrill. 
 
 "Is that you Darling?" then I called; ten miles is 
 
 quite a space. 
 And so I lowed he wouldn't hear like talking to his 
 
 face. 
 Then, I was startled nearly stiff for, loudly in my 
 
 ear, 
 I knew I heard Bill Darling's voice a soundin' mighty 
 
 near. 
 
 50 
 
I looked around and there he stood, ne'er madder in 
 
 his life. 
 He sez, sez he, ^'What kind of stuff you saying to 
 
 my wife?" 
 
 He saw the look upon my face, mistakin' it for fright, 
 He peeled his coat and, with a cuss, he squared right 
 
 off to fight. 
 Now, Bill and I, had always been as friendly as 
 
 could be; 
 Besides the roan, he'd borrowed loads of other stuff 
 
 from me. 
 Of course, I thought 'twas bluff in', just to see what 
 
 I would do. 
 Until he sez, 'Tm going to take a rassle out of you." 
 
 That made me mad and I walked in to get the pro- 
 per holt 
 
 When, by mistake, Bill's fist shot out and hit me 
 quite a jolt. 
 
 It put me out of business and I never struck a blow, 
 
 While my left eye is swollen shut, and black and 
 blue below. 
 
 When I come to Bill, sneakin' out, had headed 
 straight for home. 
 
 And that's the only thanks I got for lendin' him 
 the roan. 
 
 51 
 
My Airship 
 
 Who is it takes me through the air, 
 O'er the earth most anywhere; 
 
 With its powerful, big searchlight, 
 Takes me through the darkest night ; 
 
 Engines throbbing, sharp and clear, 
 Making music to my ear? 
 My Airship. 
 
 Who is it, when I'd be alone. 
 
 Takes me quickly from my home, 
 
 And we pass the birds, that fly. 
 As the earth goes skimming by? 
 
 I can shape its course at will, 
 
 Makes my heart with raptures thrill. 
 My Airship. 
 
 Days were, when air was not for men, 
 Only birds flew through it then. 
 
 Men didn't understand its worth. 
 And for travel used the earth. 
 
 iNow, in rain or wind or snow, 
 I can always make it go. 
 My Airship. 
 
 52 
 
The Railroad Man 
 
 Twas past the midnight hour; the moon was bright; 
 
 The earth was all aflood with mellow light. 
 A railroad man left home, — a place so dear — 
 
 His wife and child he kissed — no thought of fear. 
 His fond goodbye was o'er ; on down the street, 
 
 As frosty boards, beneath his tread, would creak, 
 He made his happy way, on toward his train. 
 
 Nor thought that he would ne'er go forth again. 
 Upon the track — his heart was full of song — 
 
 Fast in a frog, he caught his boot so strong. 
 The thundering train came on — no hand could aid ; 
 
 Beneath. the bloody wheels, the poor man laid. 
 The brothers gathered round, there was no blame — 
 
 No time to stop the onrush of the train; 
 An accident, the mind cannot foresee. 
 
 They helped him what they could, beloved was he. 
 
 "I'm tired and weary friends," he faintly said, 
 
 "Please take me home and lay me on my bed." 
 With gentle hands, most tenderly, they bore 
 
 53 
 
Him, on a litter, to the cottage door. 
 As in a dream, the first faint knock was heard; 
 
 And yet the wife and child had scarcely stirred. 
 Then, came the knocking with a louder stroke 
 
 And, with a startled cry, the wife awoke. 
 
 She asked them, "Please, what can the trouble be?" 
 
 With trembling limbs, she hastened there to see. 
 "A serious accident," a voice replied, 
 
 "We have your husband lying here outside." 
 *'Be brave, my dear, it may be for the best," 
 
 Her husband said, as through the door they 
 pressed. 
 *'Do not be worried dear for all is well;" 
 
 And unto her, the worst he did not tell. 
 
 As morning bells, upon the air, were pealing; 
 As morning sun, through curtained pane, was 
 stealing. 
 Death's angel came. The wife's heart would be 
 broken 
 Had he not left these words, a tender token, 
 "All is well." 
 
 54 
 
Johnny's Penny 
 
 Johnny had a penny, 
 
 Whirling it around 
 On the kitchen table ; 
 
 One that he had found. 
 Precious little penny, 
 
 Shining new and bright. 
 Johnny, in the pastime, 
 
 Took a great delight. 
 
 Whirling on the table, 
 
 To the edge, it came. 
 Johnny laughed with pleasure, 
 
 Cuffed it back again ; 
 Set it whirling faster — 
 
 Just a bit too fast — 
 Then, the penny tumbled. 
 
 To the floor, at last. 
 
 Straightway, to the cupboard, 
 
 Little Johnny ran; 
 Thought to catch the penny. 
 
 That was Johnny's plan ; 
 
 55 
 
But, into a corner, 
 
 From his sight it flew. 
 
 Little Johnny wondered. 
 Then, what he would do. 
 
 Johnny stopped and pondered; 
 
 Looked about the room; 
 Then his sad eyes lighted, 
 
 Saw the kitchen broom. 
 So he ran to get it, 
 
 And went poking round; 
 But his shining penny. 
 
 Nowhere, could be found. 
 
 Where a mouse had nibbled 
 
 Johnny found a hole. 
 Wondered if his penny, 
 
 Into it, could roll. 
 It was in a corner. 
 
 Underneath a chair ; 
 Made him feel like crying; 
 
 Made poor Johnny stare. 
 
 Manly little Johnny! 
 
 He's not going to cry. 
 As he put the broom up, 
 
 On the floor, near by, 
 Was his little penny, 
 
 56 
 
Shinini? bright and new. 
 Johnny was not crying, 
 That would never do. 
 
 Johnny, he loved candy. 
 
 Went down to the store ; 
 It was very handy. 
 
 Gave his penny o'er. 
 But, when he was suffering 
 
 From a grievous pain. 
 Little Johnny wished he 
 
 Had it back again. 
 
 Had he back his penny, 
 
 Candy he'd forego ; 
 Soon he'd have a dollar, 
 
 For such savings grow. 
 Then, he'd buy a farmhouse 
 
 With a splendid view. 
 And drive to the city; 
 
 That's what he would do. 
 
 Please, boys, do be careful 
 
 How you earn your way ; 
 Never cheat another; 
 
 That will never pay. 
 If you're true and honest. 
 
 As you older grow, 
 God, in fullest measure. 
 
 Riches may bestow. 
 
 57 
 
Rest Ye In Peace 
 
 An old stone church, with ruined walls around, 
 Is standing guard over that sacred ground. 
 
 The flag is gently waving near each cross. 
 A few white shells surround a bit of moss. 
 
 Roses are growing o'er each lonely mound. 
 Why do we weep? Eternal peace is found. 
 
 The twilight shadows form a deep background. 
 Rest ye in peace. 
 
 Ye bravely led the way, nor counted loss, 
 To spare the world the burden of a cross; 
 
 So let your rest be peaceful, deep and sound. 
 Our love for you, our tears and prayers abound. 
 
 Each name in golden letters shall emboss 
 The book of life. Behind each name a cross 
 
 To mark the cross ye bore ; the life ye lost. 
 Rest ye in peace. 
 
 58 
 
Lieut. Redwood, of Baltimore 
 
 What though machine-guns rattle, 
 
 He walked on unafraid, 
 In the thickest din of battle. 
 
 The bravest of the brave. 
 
 With faith in God prevailing 
 He led the foremost van. 
 
 With cheerfulness unfailing 
 He proved himself a man. 
 
 A character of beauty. 
 
 His kindness comrades know, 
 When service called for duty. 
 
 The nearest to the foe. 
 
 We seek to do him honor, 
 But words cannot express 
 
 Our tribute to this soldier, 
 The bravest and the best. 
 
 59 
 
The Old Red Swing 
 
 Twas an old red swing in a grove of trees, 
 
 But happy indeed were the evenings there; 
 Planning and talking, in great content, 
 
 Of the years to come which we would share. 
 And long we planned of the little home — 
 
 Oh I was as happy as any king ! 
 The days passed by like a dream of gold. 
 
 And the evenings were spent in the old red swing. 
 
 Often we stayed till the kindly stars 
 
 Shone down through the leaves of the stately oak. 
 And wondrous indeed were the dreams we dreamt; 
 
 Often so happy we hardly spoke. 
 It's hard to plan for the years to come. 
 
 You never can tell what time will bring. 
 But I'll try to make those dreams come true; 
 
 Those dreams I dreamt in the old red swing. 
 
 How sweet, to me, are those treasured hours; 
 
 As we strolled to the house, with a kindly grin. 
 The old moon watched from the cloud flecked sky, 
 
 But little we cared for the likes of him. 
 Though I live long years and lose all else, 
 
 Yet I'm rich if memory may still take wing 
 To those evenings spent with you, dear heart, 
 
 Those evenings spent in the old red swing. 
 
 60 
 
Nature's Teachings 
 
 Wave, sweet meadow, wet with dew, 
 Like some lovely lake of silver, 
 
 Waving, rocking, to and fro , 
 
 Shining in thy morning splendor. 
 
 From whence came thy armor bright ? 
 
 Was it scattered down from Heaven ? 
 Holy tears from eyes of light, 
 
 Angels unto Earth hath given? 
 
 From within thy sheltering fold. 
 Buttercups, their heads are peeping. 
 
 Glistening there like drops of gold. 
 Company with the daisies keeping. 
 
 What a beauty-spot I've found. 
 
 Lovely flowers and blossoms growing. 
 
 As my eyes rove o'er the ground 
 Naught but pretty tints are showing. 
 
 6i 
 
Then, I spy a lurking form, 
 
 Evil prickles all abristle. 
 Naught that's pleasing can adorn 
 
 Such an ugly, shapeless thistle. 
 
 So annoyances will come 
 
 To our lives, as does the shadow 
 O'er the luster of the sun ; 
 
 Like the thistle in the meadow. 
 
 But the dew God sendeth down 
 On unjust and just together, 
 
 Not upon the flowers alone. 
 But upon the thistles ever. 
 
 Let us this sweet lesson learn, 
 
 That will fill our lives with pleasure, 
 
 Let our kind deeds fall upon 
 Enemy and friend together. 
 
 62 
 
Along The Way 
 
 Enter thou with throbbing heart, 
 Wondrous life, thou newly born. 
 
 Miracle of all thou art. 
 
 Happiness, thy path adorn. 
 
 Open wide thy baby eyes. 
 
 Crow, and kick thy tiny feet. 
 
 Joyous o'er each new surprise; 
 Blessings on thee, life is sweet. 
 
 Happiness, the friend thou hath, 
 
 Art sufficient to the day ; 
 Strewing roses in thy path; 
 
 Side by side along the way. 
 
 Youth, and then to manhood grown, 
 Happiness then meets another. 
 
 Love has come to make her home, 
 
 Love for sweetheart, children, mother. 
 
 Happiness and love are kind. 
 
 Love dream days will swiftly glide. 
 Wakes he up one day to find 
 
 Peace is walking by his side. 
 
 Love and Happiness and Peace, 
 Friends of all mankind thou art. 
 
 Happiness, with smiling face. 
 Greets us; we in peace depart. 
 
 63 
 
Little Things 
 
 A soldier during peace times often leads a life of ease, 
 But living in the trenches often has to fight disease, 
 And often troubles multiply to fill his life with care. 
 And sometimes he goes hungry or lives on the roughs 
 est fare. 
 
 But though he is a fighting man, there are things he 
 
 can't fight, 
 For there's a little insect that will wake him up at 
 
 night, 
 And the pecky little devils are the worst of all his 
 
 foes — 
 They creep up on him in the dark and hide within his 
 
 clothes. 
 
 They trouble him, they bother him and fill his life 
 
 with care. 
 He digs his head as though in thought, for they are 
 
 everywhere. 
 When lying in the dugout there's no water for a bath, 
 So when he tries to fight them they can just afford 
 
 to laugh. 
 
 When coming in from lonely watch he drops in 
 
 slumbers deep. 
 They hardly wait until he snores before they start 
 
 to eat. 
 
 64 
 
He dreams he's fighting Germans, seeing thousands 
 
 of the Huns, 
 But when he wakes up from his sleep he finds he's 
 
 fighting crumbs. 
 
 When on patrol in No Man's Land as quiet as can be, 
 He's lying down behind the stump of what was once 
 
 a tree. 
 And German rockets start to climb and light the 
 
 earth and sky. 
 The soldier dare not make a move or hardly bat an 
 
 eye, 
 
 For all around him Germans wait, each with a load- 
 ed gun. 
 
 Then some old, great big grayback comes and brings 
 along his son; 
 
 And when he finds the coast is clear he signals to the 
 rest. 
 
 i^nd bugs and cooties come in droves and camp upon 
 his breast. 
 
 A soldier out upon a march equipped with loaded 
 
 pack. 
 Will exercise until he's warm, and sweat runs down 
 
 his back. 
 He's fastened so with harness that he cannot scratch 
 
 or dig. 
 Then cooties come out from the seams, the little and 
 
 the big. 
 
 65 
 
They hold a family picnic in the trooper's underwear, 
 
 And as he cannot reach them all that he can do is 
 swear ; 
 
 So, as he hikes along the road, he swears with all his 
 might. 
 
 And his curses are the deepest for the foes he can- 
 not fight. 
 
 Be Thankful 
 
 Be thankful for thy talents. 
 The' small they seem to be ; 
 
 For have they not been given 
 To be of use to thee? 
 
 Go nurse thy gift of genius 
 And hnger not too long, 
 Who knows what place awaits you 
 Above the jostling throng? 
 
 Perhaps, in song or story 
 Or by some innate skill. 
 You were endowed by Nature 
 Some great deed to fulfill. 
 
 Perhaps thy blest example, 
 
 Set forth by talents given, 
 May set some wanderer's feet aright 
 And lead them on to Heaven. 
 
 66 
 
The Silver Flask 
 
 At a city park's wide open gate 
 
 Stopped a limousine, 
 And a rich man bade his chauffeur wait 
 
 As he stepped from the grand machine. 
 As he strolled along at a stately pace, 
 
 The sun was warm and bright ; 
 And a pleasant look was on his face, 
 
 In his eye was a kindly light. 
 Buying a paper from a boy. 
 
 He gave him an extra coin. 
 He laughed with delight at children's joy, 
 And their play he would like to join. 
 
 But he was content to watch the throng, 
 
 As their steps kept pace with his thought. 
 Life seemed, to him, one long, sweet song 
 
 As he glanced at the paper he'd bought. 
 A stranger, far from friends and home. 
 
 While mingling with the crowd. 
 He felt himself to be quite alone 
 
 And spoke almost aloud; 
 "Were I to depart to realms above 
 
 Who here would be distressed? 
 A life Is empty without the love 
 
 Of the person one loves the best." 
 
 67 
 
That lonesome feeling spoiled his walk 
 
 So on the seats, as he passed, 
 He looked for someone with whom to talk 
 
 And found, on a seat, at last, 
 A vagabond of a ragged kind. 
 
 Who's hair was streaked with gray ; 
 Except an old lady, who's eyes were blind. 
 
 All others passed by on their way. 
 So the rich man sat between the two 
 
 And passers-by would smile 
 At the vagabond, the lady too. 
 
 And the man in the high silk tile. 
 
 The rich man thought of his splendid home, 
 
 And his wife and child with love. 
 The woman, dreaming dreams of her own, 
 
 Saw home in the Heavens above. 
 The vagabond thought, with deep regret. 
 
 Of wasted and lonesome years ; 
 Devoid of love, with sin beset. 
 
 And his eyes were filled with tears. 
 The rich man, thirsty from his walk, 
 
 Drew forth a silver flask; 
 And the vagabond, the first to talk, 
 
 Of the rich man meekly asked ; 
 "Your flask is a beautiful work of art 
 
 When filled with sparkling wine. 
 But have you no fear it is apt to start 
 
 A habit the same as mine? 
 
 68 
 
steer clear of the perilous path of drink, 
 
 The road is rocky and rough, 
 Or the time may come, before you think. 
 
 You'll be slave to the cursed stuff. 
 An old man now, with a life ill-spent. 
 
 All chances and hope I've wrecked; 
 Too old to work, I haven't a cent. 
 
 The devil but waits to collect." 
 
 With a trembling hand he wiped his eyes 
 
 And, from her end of the seat. 
 The bhnd woman heard and sympathized; 
 
 Her agitation was deep. 
 The rich man — comparing his happy home 
 
 With the life of the poor outcast — 
 Spoke to him in the kindest tone 
 
 And passed him the silver flask. 
 *'Here friend, take a drink and you'll find 
 
 It's the purest of Rock and Rye, 
 'Twill warm your heart and if you don't mind 
 
 Tell us the reason why 
 You started off on such a life. 
 Were you friendless and alone? 
 With loving children and a faithful wife, 
 
 You would have been happy at home." 
 
 As the vagabond drank from the silver flask 
 
 He sorrowfully shook his head ; 
 ''My wife was all that a man could ask, 
 
 But our only child was dead. 
 
 69 
 
I loved my wife, God, with a love 
 
 That very few men may know ! 
 I guess that God was jealous, above, 
 
 Because I loved her so. 
 She loved me but I was neglectful — a fool — 
 
 And toyed with the tempter's glass. 
 And, later, made it a steady rule 
 
 To carry a silver flask. 
 How often she said, It'll harm you Jack, 
 
 Please stop before it's too late;' 
 But, with plenty of money to smooth the track, 
 
 I went, like a fool, to my fate. 
 
 One night at the club, and she at home, 
 
 I stayed with my friends to dine. 
 No thought did I give to my wife alone, 
 
 As I drank of the sparkling wine. 
 No thought did I give of the grievous wrong, 
 
 But stayed far into the night 
 With the laughing crowd — a merry throng — 
 
 Each heart was happy and light. 
 Festivity reigned at the rich repast. 
 
 Hilarious, jolly and gay. 
 We had choicest liquors freely passed 
 
 To drive dull care away. 
 We had dancing and song at the happy feast. 
 
 Enthralled by the flowing bowl, 
 I recklessly drank but the party ceased 
 
 With the devil not yet in control. 
 
 70 
 
The open air helped clear my brain, 
 
 And, walking my homeward way, 
 I thought of a favor — all in vain — 
 
 My wife had asked that day ; 
 'Give up your club, to please me dear. 
 
 It's lonesome when you are gone ; 
 Alone, I spend my evening here 
 
 And the twilight hours are long. 
 Give up your club and stay with me. 
 
 You know that my love is true.' 
 I made up my mind to hear her plea 
 
 And do as she wished me to. 
 So I made my plans, as fools have done, 
 
 Aye fools, though the wisest men ; 
 For drunkards must always pay for their fun 
 
 And I started to pay for it then. 
 
 The Devil planned with a cunning hand. 
 
 As a pawn, I moved in the game. 
 My mind inflamed and passions fanned 
 
 By the drink which went to my brain. 
 Into the house I crept that night. 
 
 Like a thief, to meet my doom; 
 For within the hall I spied a light 
 
 Which shone from the dining-room. 
 With the thought, 'My wife is waiting still, 
 
 I'll make my presence known, 
 I entered the door, but on the sill 
 
 My heart seemed turned to stone. 
 
 71 
 
A stranger and my wife were there, 
 
 His arms around her waist, 
 And the love in her eyes, caused me to swear 
 
 As I thought of our home disgraced. 
 With a loving kiss, she fondly said, 
 
 'Your coming makes me glad.' 
 The liquor, then, went to my head 
 
 And with rage I was nearly mad. 
 
 She saw my face and, with a scream. 
 
 Sank fainting to a chair; 
 The rest of the night was like a dream, 
 
 A sort of a bad nightmare. 
 His face was white, but he turned to fight, 
 
 As for me, I was seeing red. 
 And pounding him with all my might 
 
 I left him, I thought, for dead. 
 Then he seemed to change and appeared to be 
 
 The Devil. I turned to run. 
 And the Evil Spirit followed me. 
 
 Laughing at what I had done. 
 Laughing to scorn my intense dismay, 
 
 He cried in a mocking tone, 
 'Accursed of God you'll have to pay 
 
 For the bitter hatred sown.' 
 
 Out of the house and through the fields, 
 Toward a wood, the wild chase led ; 
 And Satan, following close at my heels, 
 Kept laughing at me as I fled. 
 
 72 
 
Then hands reached out to hold me back, 
 
 In the darkness, nearly blind, 
 I received hard blows and, with each whack, 
 
 The Devil would laugh from behind. 
 In terror, I thought of my awful deed — 
 
 Marked with the brand of Cain. 
 No use to run, too late to plead. 
 
 For the demon seemed to gain 
 And, grappling with me from behind, 
 
 I received a blow on the head. 
 And slept for a space and awoke to find 
 
 Myself in a white, cot bed. 
 
 My body was bruised, my head was hurt; 
 
 I'd had a fall, so I found. 
 Out in the woods. All covered with dirt. 
 
 They found me on the ground. 
 The hands, which seemed to block my path, 
 
 Were naught but limbs and brush, 
 For, in my fright at the Devil's laugh, 
 
 rd gone with a headlong rush. 
 Her brother, had been the man I fought, 
 
 His bruises were only slight ; 
 Through all the years, although I have sought, 
 
 I saw her last that night. 
 With a breaking heart, I dream of home. 
 
 As o'er the world I stray ; 
 Forsaken, suffering, all alone. 
 
 To dread remorse a prey. 
 
 73 
 
Her sweet face lingers as a dream, 
 
 Forgive these flowing tears, 
 I would give my soul could I redeem 
 
 The wreck of the golden years." 
 
 The rich man thought of sweet years passed, 
 
 And wiped a tear-dimmed eye. 
 Flinging away his silver flask, 
 
 He turned to the blind woman nigh, 
 To find she had fainted away in her seat. 
 
 When she opened her eyes, 
 
 Sitting up, she began to weep 
 And said, to their great surprise; 
 
 ''0 Jack ! through all these years I've spent, 
 Thinking that you were untrue. 
 
 Had I a thought that you could repent 
 I would have returned to you." 
 
 At her voice, so sweet to his ears, 
 The vagabond gave a start. 
 
 He knew her, in spite of the passing years, 
 And gathered her close to his heart ; 
 
 ''Can you forgive? Then God can forgive; 
 I'll trust Him and His love. 
 
 I'll give up drink as long as I live 
 And meet you in Heaven above." 
 
 A light of love stole over her face, 
 She silently nodded her head ; 
 
 An angel hovered over the place, 
 The vagabond held but the dead. 
 
 74 
 
The rich man thought of his wife at home. 
 The wanderer's sobs were deep; 
 
 And the vagrant spoke in the saddest tone. 
 As she seemed, in his arms, to sleep; 
 
 '1 played with fire and meant to turn 
 Before too late, but I fell. 
 
 The Bible is true. Hell-fire will bum, 
 
 For I played with fire from Hell." 
 
 Home Runs 
 
 Base-ball is a great game, people sa5% 
 
 But I know one that's far and away 
 
 A greater game, and more sublime; 
 
 It's one you're playing all the time. 
 
 Errors are counted by your sins ; 
 
 Gk)od deeds will count for you as wins, 
 
 And on that golden, roseate shore, 
 
 An umpire tells the final score. 
 
 He'll judge the fumbles you have made, 
 
 And how you won in games you've played 
 
 He'll know the hits caught on the fly, 
 
 So try to keep your average high ; 
 
 And watch for places others fall. 
 
 And keep your eye upon the ball. 
 
 Win this world's series with a good, big score 
 
 And the big league's yours forevermore. 
 
 75 
 
Everybody Outside 
 
 The bugle-call for reveille 
 
 Awakens us from sleep, 
 
 And, dressing very hurriedly, 
 
 We line up in the street. 
 
 Our uniforms are spick and span. 
 
 Our rifles all must shine; 
 
 It's kitchen-pohce for every man 
 
 Not there in proper time. 
 
 As soon as reveille is o'er 
 
 We join and make a rush, 
 
 To crowd in through the barracks' door 
 
 Until we're almost crushed. 
 
 We hurry through our morning wash. 
 
 And quickly form in line; 
 
 Although I think a few, by gosh, 
 
 Have failed to wash this time. 
 
 For morning chow the mess-call blows 
 
 And to each man is passed, 
 
 As down the line he slowly goes, 
 
 Corned-willie, warmed and hashed. 
 
 There's lot of bread with Java, black 
 
 And strong as it can be, 
 
 But cream and sugar we still lack 
 
 To keep it company. 
 
 76 
 
Although, perhaps, we miss the juice 
 
 Extracted from the cow, 
 
 There seems to be no good excuse 
 
 For kicking up a row, 
 
 For those who lack enough to eat 
 
 May go again and fill 
 
 Their mess-kits up with bread and meat, 
 
 Or beans and good corned-bill. 
 
 And then, to wash our dishes, we 
 
 Proceed to form a row; 
 
 Again (to wipe them) patiently, 
 
 Along the line we go. 
 
 Back to the barracks I proceed, 
 
 Prepared to take a nap. 
 For which I feel the greatest need; 
 But promptly get turned back; 
 
 "Outside with you," there sounds a voice, 
 
 "Come on, I need you all," 
 
 And, with the rest, I have no choice 
 
 But answer to the call. 
 
 We clean the aisle, we sweep the rooms, 
 
 We line up in the street. 
 
 And pick up butts, and sweep with brooms. 
 
 Until the place looks neat. 
 
 When through all that I seek my bunk, 
 Glad that the work is done, 
 
 n 
 
And then a voice, which makes me jump, 
 
 Calls, "Outside everyone; 
 
 Come on, line up, wipe off that smile 
 
 And come and grab a pail." 
 
 We carry water half a mile 
 
 And finish that detail. 
 
 We hurry back, it's time to drill, 
 
 We go and change our clothes ; 
 
 But, though we rush, it takes until 
 
 The time the bugle blows. 
 
 We drill until it's time for mess 
 
 And, though the sun is hot. 
 
 And many times, I will confess, 
 
 I've thought that I would drop, 
 
 I scarcely ever lay my head 
 
 Upon my bed before. 
 
 In through the door, though I'm most dead, 
 
 Some voice is sure to roar; 
 
 *Come on outside and do your bit. 
 
 No sneaking for the rear," 
 
 And any man who tries to quit 
 
 Will catch it never fear. 
 
 At dead of night, in slumbers deep. 
 
 Not even dreams can hide 
 
 The thought that, even while I sleep, 
 
 Some will call "Outside." 
 
 78 
 
Pay Day in France 
 
 "Pay-day" you hear the soldiers shout, 
 While dancing merrily about, 
 And, when we line up in the street. 
 The French, with carts, are there to greet 
 Our line of men with fresh supply 
 Of all the goods we soldiers buy. 
 They jabber on with smile or laugh, 
 And set the prices up by half. 
 The wine shops, now a steady roar, 
 Are packed with soldiers to the door. 
 The boys are paying up their debts, 
 And some regretting foolish bets. 
 A hundred franc note in his hand. 
 You'll see some puzzled soldier stand. 
 While trying hard to find a way 
 To figure out his foreign pay. 
 
 Then, after thinking for a time, 
 He walks along the soldiers' line 
 And seeks for change to break his bill. 
 His search is vain, perhaps, until 
 He starts away for Frenchie's store 
 And looks a stock of trinkets o'er 
 And buys some junk and in a lump. 
 Has clackers which would fill a trunk. 
 
 79 
 
The Frenchman gazes in amaze 
 
 At soldiers with such careless ways, 
 
 For, buying all he has in store, 
 
 We crowd about and call for more. 
 
 He answers ''Finis," in despair. 
 
 We soldiers laugh and leave him there 
 
 And, loaded down, we go away. 
 
 The merchant wonders at our pay, 
 
 And rubs his hands and counts his roll, 
 
 And figures up how great a toll 
 
 He's made by making prices high 
 
 On all the goods we soldiers buy. 
 
 Our pay, although considered large. 
 Is dwindling, with the rates they charge- 
 While some buy candies, cake and jam. 
 There's others leave with Uncle Sam 
 The surplus cash they do not need ; 
 While others still have mouths to feed 
 Among their loved ones far away ; 
 And always send their extra pay 
 To gladden hearts of those alone. 
 And keep the larder filled at home. 
 
 A week or more goes gaily by 
 And merchants busily apply 
 Themselves to fill the soldiers' needs, 
 And Oh, the way the soldier feeds. 
 He eats the best that comes his way 
 And there's no price too high to pay. 
 
 80 
 
The mess-line's looking rather thin, 
 The boys are blowing in their "tin." 
 They're eating chicken, rabbit-stew, 
 But, as we pass a week or two, 
 The line grows longer, longer still, 
 Until all spare time, not at drill, 
 We're waiting for the line to go ; 
 For it's so long the overflow 
 Out through the hall-door, to the street, 
 Tin dishes clashing, waits to eat. 
 
 As time draws nearer for our pay, 
 The line grows longer every day. 
 The carts are fewer near our tent. 
 The merchant wonders for his rent. 
 Then, as a soldier in a store 
 Will look a stock of goods all o'er 
 And ask the price and go his way. 
 The merchant waits till next pay-day. 
 
 8i 
 
Mother 
 
 The fighting is finished, the treaty is signea, 
 
 The world's greatest confhct is o'er. 
 With freedom assured, soldier boys have returned 
 
 With honors and medals galore. 
 And statues of bronze and of granite and stone 
 
 Will tell generations to come 
 Of courage and valor and wonderful deeds 
 
 Performed in the war with the Hun. 
 
 You've heard of strange battles fought high in the 
 air 
 
 By men who were valiant and true. 
 The navy has carved, on the tablets of fame, 
 
 The name and place that's her due. 
 When glory and honor are given to all. 
 
 Each branch of the service a share, 
 There's one we've forgotten, she suffered the most, 
 
 In sending the boys over there. 
 
 82 
 
Who said as they left, ''Do your duty, my son," 
 
 Her heart nearly breaking with pain. 
 And kissed him good-bye, with a smile on her lips, 
 
 And prayed she would see him again ; 
 Who sent cheery letters to keep hope aglow 
 
 Mid hardship and peril and cold. 
 What softened the suffering? The memory I know 
 
 Of mother, her heart is of gold. 
 
 Let monuments stand, they are richly deserved, 
 
 Expressing the gratitude earned 
 By heroes who sleep in quiet and peace — 
 
 Those heroes who never returned. 
 But shall we forget there is one who gave more 
 
 Than life, in the war we have won? 
 She gives even more than her life for a friend, 
 
 Who gives up the life of her son. 
 
 83 
 
Hardtack Bill 
 
 Hardtack Bill, we called the lad but we loved him 
 
 just the same. 
 With pleasant ways and a happy smile, he was true 
 
 to the core, and game. 
 As we trailed through the dust in the noonday heat, 
 
 or marched by the light of the moon, 
 It was Hardtack Bill who would start to sing or 
 
 whistle a lively tune. 
 It was Hardtack Bill who would lift the pack from 
 
 the one who's strength would fail, 
 And cheer him on with a laugh and joke, as we hik- 
 ed the long, hard trail, 
 But he seemed to be always hungry and, whenever 
 
 he stood still, 
 He would eat his fill of hardtacks, so we named him 
 
 Hardtack Bill. 
 
 Hardtack received a letter, just before we left the 
 
 States, 
 And he showed the missive to me to read, for we 
 
 were the best of mates. 
 The letter breathed of a mother's love and inclosed 
 
 was a picture there 
 
 84 
 
Of a pretty girl with laughing eyes and a mass of 
 
 golden hair. 
 So he told me about his sweetheart (the girl with the 
 
 laughing eyes). 
 If half of what he said was true he had won indeed 
 
 a prize. 
 He hoped to get a furlough— but of that there was 
 
 not a chance, 
 For the transport, then in the harbor, was to take 
 
 us away to France. 
 
 The sky was gleaming with sunshine and the sun- 
 kissed waves, tho' white, 
 
 Danced and sparkled and rippled, bathed in a mel- 
 low light. 
 
 As we sailed on our mission one morning, with no 
 shouts of joy or acclaim, 
 
 For we silently stole from the harbor out o'er the 
 boundless main. 
 
 There were sunsets, each blossomed with beauty, 
 each sunrise was a golden delight 
 
 And the decks were crowded at evening until stars 
 emblazoned the night; 
 
 But one soldier enjoyed not the sunshine, or the 
 jewels that besprinkled the sky, 
 
 For Hardtack's face was o'ershadowed and the light 
 was gone from his eye. 
 
 He was heartsick and lovesick that youngster, he 
 had hoped for a last farewell, 
 
 85 
 
He had dreamed of a pretty, white cottage that 
 
 nestled in a sylvan dell, 
 Where a welcome and love were awaiting, but the 
 
 waiting he knew was in vain, 
 So he kindled and cherished his sorrow till his heart 
 
 was vibrant with pain. 
 But sweet was the lad's disposition, cheerfulness 
 
 took the place of his frown. 
 Time is the greatest restorer ; youth not overlong is 
 
 cast down. 
 And the thrill of the hidden diaster, that lurked in 
 
 the depths of the blue. 
 Cleared away the last touch of his sadness ere the 
 
 shores of fair France came to view. 
 
 As our fleet sailed into the harbor of the quaint fortt 
 
 ressed town of St. Nazaire 
 The weather was warm and delightful, fragrant and 
 
 balmy the air. 
 With music and waving and gladness we were greet- 
 ed by crowds on the shore. 
 But our hearts were touched with sadness at the 
 
 crape bedecked sleeves many wore. 
 Curious and caressing were glances — others demure 
 
 and more coy — 
 Which beautiful maidens sent in welcome to many 
 
 a khaki clad boy : 
 And we thrilled at the shouts of ovation — a feeling 
 
 exquisite and grand — 
 
 86 
 
As we marched through the streets of the city to 
 the music and beat of the band. 
 
 Inland, o'er beautiful country, we traveled on grotes- 
 que trains, 
 
 Enjoying the bloom and the beauty which flowered 
 the valleys and plains. 
 
 As we journeyed by red-tiled hamlets where white-i 
 washed walls were agleam — 
 
 Like some rare old painting remembered— how 
 peaceful and quiet the scene. 
 
 Surprise lit the eyes of the natives— by the way- 
 side a wondering throng — 
 
 As the flood of youthful voices burst forth in a vol- 
 ume of song ; 
 
 In the dear old songs of our homeland, more treasur- 
 ed and loved while away. 
 
 And each lad threw his soul in the chorus as we join- 
 ed in each heartfelt lay. 
 
 What rapture to leave our cramped quarters, what 
 
 shouting and merry halloos. 
 The cherries, abundant and luscious, held the faint 
 
 scarlet tint of the rose. 
 The tree's deep shadow refreshed us in the heat of 
 
 the midday sun. 
 And we marched through the heart of the country 
 
 until shadows of evening were come. 
 We wound up the flowering hill-sides, a long and 
 
 sinuous line. 
 
 87 
 
We gazed at strange, old castles, enjoying each mo- 
 ment of time ; 
 
 But, weary and footsore with marching, we stopped 
 at the word of command, 
 
 For we'd reached the end of our journey, in the town 
 of St. Amand. 
 
 A sleepy, old-fashioned, French village, embraced by 
 the cuddling hill; 
 
 Untouched by the ravishing horror: charming and 
 peaceful and still; 
 
 At the edge of the war's desolation, on the banks of 
 a silvery stream; 
 
 A picture I love to remember, with the cross on the 
 church spire agleam. 
 
 That old French town holds in memory many com- 
 rades friendly and true 
 
 But Hardtack was first of my buddies and our friend- 
 ship ripened and grew. 
 
 In barracks we quartered together, he bunked on 
 the cot next to mine. 
 
 And we shared all our joys and our sorrows, even 
 drilling together in line. 
 
 The summer was passed in maneuvers — building the 
 
 perfect machine — 
 But oft' in the splendor of evening, ere the moon 
 
 sent its kindly beam. 
 By the edge of the camp, have I lingered, while all 
 
 was lovely and still, 
 
 88 
 
And harked to the rumble and mutter, o'er the brow 
 
 of the low-lying hill. 
 Then the dread of the conflict surged o'er me, the 
 
 dread of that mumbling roar, 
 But I steeled my heart for the morrow, with the 
 
 spirit of duty in store. 
 But the fields were seared in the Autumn and the 
 
 earth was blanketed white, 
 Ere we embarked on our first big adventure — off to 
 
 the trenches to fight. 
 
 No pen can picture the hardships, sleepless in cold 
 and snow. 
 
 Description has no comparison — a person must live 
 it to know. 
 
 But the sunshine came with the springtime; ans- 
 wering our country's calls, 
 
 II found us ensconced in Death Valley in dugouts 
 with white chalk walls. 
 
 Hardtack stood guard at the entrance of the cap- 
 tain's post of command. 
 
 The sky was a vault of beauty, blue and cloudless 
 and grand 
 
 Framed in my dugout entrance, a couple of rods be- 
 low. 
 
 While the shells, like a song in the Heavens, were 
 passing to and fro. 
 
 Then a gun on the slope behind us set up a spitful 
 bark 
 
 89 
 
(Always when peacefully quiet something was sure 
 
 to start) 
 And I muttered as I lay there dozing and listened to 
 
 get the reply. 
 It came. In the comer I groveled, the roar split the 
 
 earth and sky. 
 Rocks showered into my doorway, my ears tingling 
 
 yet with the roar, 
 I heard a voice shouting, "It's Hardtack," and I dove 
 
 through the dugout door. 
 I sprang outside in the sunshine, shouting, "My God, 
 
 my chum !" 
 But his legs were tattered to ribbons and I knew the 
 
 end had come. 
 
 He died in my arms, that youngster, the lieutenant 
 was standing nigh, 
 
 A two hundred and twenty pound husky with tear- 
 drops in each eye. 
 
 His face was as white as a lily and he stood in the 
 dugout door, 
 
 While the boy was gasping and moaning, and clinch- 
 ed his hands and swore. 
 
 Each oath to me was a blessing, a prayer for the soul 
 of the dead ; 
 
 With a hope to exact repayment before many days 
 had sped. 
 
 They buried the boy on the hillside with a cross to 
 mark his grave, 
 
 90 
 
One of the thousands of heroes, one of the thousands 
 who gave. 
 
 Back home again, in the harbor I'm thinking of com- 
 rades dear, 
 In the twilight I linger at evening where the waves 
 
 are slapping the pier. 
 Contented and proud and happy, I'm filled with the 
 
 joy of life; 
 They carried me out on a stretcher, out of that roar 
 
 and strife. 
 But Vm sad as I think of a letter, a missive received 
 
 that day. 
 From a sad-eyed girl and a lady and a visit they're 
 
 going to pay. 
 And I hark to the noise of the city as I'm sitting 
 
 alone on the shore, 
 Worried to think of the morrow and the visit I have 
 
 in store. 
 
 9« 
 
To a Soldier 
 
 Can you picture, by a fireplace, an old fashioned 
 rocking chair, 
 Where a sweet old lady's waiting ? As she's daily 
 rocking there 
 She is thinking of a favored son who's roamed far 
 o'er the sea, 
 But who still remains the little boy she rocked up- 
 on her knee. 
 She is waiting for the mailman, who seems always 
 to be late. 
 And so anxious for a letter that she meets him at 
 the gate. 
 As he answers her inquiry, in her eyes, he sees a 
 tear ; 
 For he says, "I'm sorry, madam, but I have no let- 
 ter here." 
 
 What a bitter disappointment in his answer every 
 
 day. 
 Though he tries, with words of sympathy, to drive 
 
 her care away. 
 While the soldier boy is careless, he would surely 
 
 blush with shame 
 If he heard the mailman mutter, at the mother's 
 
 look of pain. 
 As the kind, old, gray-haired lady, from the gateway, 
 
 turns to go, 
 
 92 
 
The engraven lines of pain and care still deeper 
 seem to grow, 
 But at the gate she's never late, though she some- 
 times thinks it queer 
 
 As she hears the mailman always say, "I have no 
 letter here." 
 
 How she worries o'er the hardships that her boy may 
 have to share 
 In the perilous days of battle ; o'er the danger he 
 must dare. 
 In the window, is a beaming light of welcome burn- 
 ing still 
 And her prayers go up to Heaven, **May he do 
 Thy blessed will ! 
 May Thy blessing follow my dear son wherever he 
 may roam, 
 And with honor and with duty done, please, Jesus, 
 send him home." 
 But, in absence of a letter, her heart colder grows, 
 in fear. 
 As the mailman always says to her, "I have no 
 letter here." 
 
 Should a boy forget his mother? Think of things 
 she's done for you; 
 You will never have another friend who is one- 
 half so true. 
 
 With busy fingers, she has worked far on into the 
 night, 
 
 93 
 
And she's kissed the fever from your brow. Be 
 sure you treat her right. 
 Would a letter hft that heavy load now pressing on 
 her heart? 
 Send a cheerful letter home to her and feel you've 
 done your part. 
 She remembered you, now don't forget to hold her 
 memory dear; 
 Let the mailman say, in kindly way, "1 have a let- 
 ter here." 
 
 A Summer Shower 
 
 How refreshing is a shower 
 
 When the summer's sun, aglow, 
 Makes the noontime heat oppressive; 
 
 Makes work hard to undergo. 
 Pretty, are the jeweled raindrops 
 
 As they spatter on the walk, 
 Dancing, as to fairy music. 
 
 Maybell, who can scarcely talk. 
 Hovers by the dripping window. 
 
 What a graceful midget, she. 
 Pointing at the dancing raindrops. 
 
 Chatting on so merrily. 
 Her dear notes take added sweetness, 
 
 Which is furnished by the twain. 
 Childish voice, an angel singing. 
 
 And the patter of the rain. 
 
 94 
 
Ode To The Moon 
 
 O thou kind, gentle moon, with thy radiant gleam, 
 
 O'er the earth thou art sending thy mellowy beam ; 
 When thou floodest the world with thy wonderful 
 
 ray, 
 Thou art making our night-time as bright as the 
 
 day. 
 The pure gold of the sun, which reflects to our eyes 
 As a beautiful lamp in the midnight skies, 
 Diffuses a smile from the Heavens so clear 
 That it scatters the shadows, so darksome and drear. 
 Through the cold of the firmament traveling afar. 
 Thou dost keep for thy company one little star ; 
 O thou kind mother moon with a tenderly pride, 
 Ever shield and protect the sweet child by thy side. 
 All the other bright stars must have wandered 
 
 astray 
 To the far distant heights of the Milky Way, 
 Or else they're concealed by the clustering clouds, 
 Ail enrapt in their dreams and enrobed in their 
 
 shrouds. 
 O thou silvery moon, is thy daughter so fair. 
 Or the eldest of children such privilege to share? 
 When the last sparkling glimmer of sunset is gone 
 Beside thee, she roams until breaking of dawn. 
 
 95 
 
A Word of Cheer 
 
 A soldier lad was inarching, with a heavy loaded 
 
 pack ; 
 He was so tired that he felt like dropping in his track. 
 The sweat was running down his face and making 
 
 lines of dirt. 
 His blouse was open at the throat and showed his 
 
 khaki shirt. 
 And he was sad, this soldier lad, with lonesome 
 
 thoughts of home ; 
 He thought if he was back again he'd never care to 
 
 roam. 
 His comrade, next in ranks, spoke up, ''What makes 
 
 you look so blue ? 
 Cheer up, there's lots of joy in life and boy there's 
 
 lots for you." 
 
 Pleased with his comrade's friendly tone, he felt a 
 
 kind of thrill 
 And, banishing all thoughts of home, said, "Thank 
 
 you kindly. Bill; 
 A fellow feeling homesick hasn't such a world of pep. 
 Your words make me more cheerful so Til try to 
 
 catch the step." 
 Forgetful of his weariness, his pack seemed far more 
 
 light 
 And, with his comrade's cheerful talk he didn't mind 
 
 the hike. 
 
 96 
 
He liked his comrade better, for his words had thrill- 
 ed him through ; 
 
 "Cheer up there's lots of joy in life and boy there's 
 lots for you." 
 
 How many chances have you missed to say a cheer- 
 ful word? 
 How many blue and cheerless lads have, by your 
 
 words, been stirred? 
 Of course the time to speak is when the world is 
 
 looking sad 
 And you must keep a cheerful heart if you would 
 
 make him glad. 
 Most anyone is happy when the world is fair and 
 
 bright. 
 It takes a man to speak kind words when all is dark 
 
 as night. 
 But think it over, watch your chance and see what 
 
 you can do; 
 "Cheer up, there's lots of joy in life and boy there's 
 
 lots for you." 
 
 A hand upon your shoulder, or a word that sends 
 
 you right, 
 Is like a ray of sunshine streaming through the 
 
 darkest night. 
 The hardships always pass along; your chance will 
 
 pass you by. 
 Your soul is tested by the fire and you, when judged 
 
 on high, 
 
 97 
 
Will reap a greater blessing for the word or kindly 
 
 deed 
 Which comes to help your comrade in the time of 
 
 greatest need. 
 So speak a word of friendship, then, and make your 
 
 words ring true; 
 "Cheer up, there's lots of joy in life and boy there's 
 
 lots for you." 
 
 LAMENTATION 
 
 Mother 
 
 My little babe is gone ! Oh woe is me ! 
 Can broken heart withstand such agony ! 
 The bitter tears I shed but make me worse, 
 Lord, why rest upon me this deep curse? 
 
 Friend 
 
 Thy flower hath flown but, mother, do not weep. 
 The soul dies not but entereth to sleep. 
 Wherein no earthly power can ever wake. 
 A brighter pathway, far, thy child will take 
 To live with God, in glorious heights above, 
 Where sorrow is unknown, but only love. 
 The precious little life, so shortly given, 
 A golden link, will bind our souls to Heaven, 
 And keep our hearts in firmer touch with Him 
 Who pities us beneath our load of sin; 
 Until our souls from earthly paths set free. 
 In rapturous joy unto their God shall flee. 
 
 98 
 
Old Glory 
 
 Some flags are emblems of oppression, 
 
 Some emblems of tyranny and wrong, 
 Many waving o'er wrongful possessions 
 
 Gained by countries both powerful and strong. 
 Some flags are most cordially bated. 
 
 Some regarded with love deep and true. 
 But never was flag higher rated 
 
 Than Old Glory, the red, white and blue. 
 
 A symbol of morals, the purest, 
 
 It made freemen of even the slave. 
 Of flags, it has always been surest 
 
 For the rights of its people to wave. 
 It never in war was defeated. 
 
 Always glorious, even in name; 
 By nations respectfully greeted. 
 
 It contains not a blot or a stain. 
 
 By the lives of its heroes defended, 
 
 On the land, in the air, or at sea. 
 Until through the years war is ended. 
 
 May it wave for the rights of the free. 
 May our pathway down through the ages, 
 
 Be as righteous and true as our past. 
 May the book of Time's written pages 
 
 Have, "Old Glory waved on to the last." 
 
 99 
 
Deeper Thought 
 
 Far streaming o'er the azure blue, 
 
 To change with ever fading hght, 
 Are lovely glints of rainbow hue 
 
 On bosom clouds of snowy white. 
 Oh balmy, blessed eventide ! 
 
 When gleaming sunlight fades away 
 The deeper shades of night abide, 
 
 For, faintly, each departing ray 
 Streaks rose and gold across the sky, 
 
 Then leaves the world all dark and still, 
 As scarlet fires of sunset die 
 
 Behind the brow of yonder hill. 
 
 Can pearly gates or golden stairs 
 
 Be colored with a sweeter blush 
 Than this departing beauty wears. 
 
 Amid the holy twilight hush? 
 When youth and golden prime have passed 
 
 And time has turned thy locks to gray, 
 Down trodden dust will claim at last 
 
 The frame He gave, to sure decay. 
 When midst the sparkle of the stars. 
 
 Thy spirit takes its happy flight, 
 Where silver chords and lyric bars 
 
 Are sung by angels robed in white, 
 Will gleaming wings e'er bear thee by 
 
 lOO 
 
More clustered splendor than is thine 
 To watch whene'er the brilliant sky 
 Holds sunset's glow at evening time ? 
 
 We travel on through boundless space, 
 
 Nor know we where the pathway leads, 
 Yet find an all sufficient grace 
 
 Is ever mindful of our needs. 
 We skirt the verge of other spheres. 
 
 Behold rare beauty held in store, 
 Yet through the endless track of years. 
 
 In waking dreams, perceive a shore 
 Where God has wrought, in splendor bright, 
 
 A city, filled with changing hues 
 And trembling pools of golden light, 
 
 O'er which, in pleasant dreams, we muse, 
 Unmindful of the Heaven's blue ; 
 
 The gladness of the summer's day ; 
 The pretty birds that bill and ooo. 
 
 With fond caress, in Nature's way; 
 Unmindful when, at twilight's nod. 
 
 The moon shines o'er the purple snow ; 
 The perfect, flawless work of God. 
 
 Can Heaven purer beauty show ? 
 
 Were brighter isles, midst fading light, 
 
 To take a sweeter golden tone, 
 Were flowers to grow in colors bright. 
 
 Which dim the luster of our own, 
 
 10 1 
 
Would blind, un'seeing eyes take heed? 
 
 Would heads more reverently bow? 
 Would hearts grow tender and each deed 
 
 Show purer, sweeter love than now ? 
 His sunshine lights the darkest path. 
 
 The world is full of joy and cheer, 
 Were half the lovely gifts thou hath 
 
 Enjoyed by thee who linger here. 
 
 Life's span is short, a few days more, 
 
 In slumber, beautiful and deep. 
 They'll bear thee gently forth and o'er 
 
 Thy grave strew buds and blossoms sweet 
 And hold thy kindly smile and voice 
 
 In Memory's niche, with tear and sigh ; 
 But shall thy wakened soul rejoice 
 
 In phantom splendors of the sky, 
 Or golden harps and angels' bows. 
 
 Send kindling ecstasy divine 
 To waken thee from sweet repose 
 
 Within that consecrated clime 
 When, perfect tho' His work appears. 
 
 Thou never felt the quickening start 
 which fills the eyes with sudden tears? 
 
 A worship coming from the heart. 
 Ah ! lift thine head and raise thine eyes ! 
 
 Gaze thou at blessed beauty wrought. 
 Praise Him, the holy, pure and wise, 
 
 In humbler spirit, deeper thought. 
 
 I02 
 
Old Mac 
 
 Twenty-five years in the army, and Mac was grow- 
 ing old ; 
 Though the bugle's call was sounding, his pack 
 was still unrolled; 
 The young recruits were all outside and he was left 
 alone, 
 The sergeant's voice was calling him and in no 
 kindly tone. 
 But he said no word although he heard remarks his 
 comrades passed; 
 His thoughts were of the days gone by when he 
 was never last. 
 ''Brace up old man, snap out of it," a voice was heard 
 to say, 
 'The hike is only twenty miles so don't fall out 
 today." 
 
 Outside the tent, as he fell in line, he answered, with 
 a smile, 
 **You fellows love to have your fun but watch the 
 last half mile. 
 
 My age may count against me and the day is grow- 
 ing hot, 
 Though you young fellows may fall out, you'll find 
 that I will not." 
 
 Then, joining in the chorus as they gaily swung 
 along, 
 
 103 
 
Right merrily his voice rang out to mingle in the 
 
 song. 
 But, from the rear, came laughing- words, addressed 
 
 to poor old Mac, 
 'The song is good all but one thing, your voice is 
 
 slightly cracked." 
 
 Through faithful years of service, and Mac's hair 
 was turning gray, 
 Mac never had a harder march than that they 
 took that day. 
 Amidst the heat, he trudged along and dust in clouds 
 arose, 
 As it was kicked by many feet, to settle on his 
 clothes. 
 His pack was getting heavier the farther on they 
 went. 
 No laughter from the ranks was heard, the boys 
 were nearly spent. 
 And as they dropped out, one by one. Old Mac would 
 always smile 
 And say, ''Come on, this is but fun, stick till the 
 last half mile." 
 
 Twenty-five years in the army, the years of training 
 
 told, 
 The climbing hills and long, hard drills, though 
 
 Mac was getting old. 
 Had given him endurance and while the hike did tell, 
 
 104 
 
Compared with many of the boys, he stood the 
 
 trip quite well. 
 So, when, dismissed, the boys would drop exhausted 
 
 on the bed, 
 He only grabbed his mess-kit and he made the 
 
 line instead. 
 And, as the boys came lagging in, he met them with 
 
 a smile ; 
 And, of course, he always asked them how they 
 
 liked the last half mile. 
 
 The Old House 
 
 Twas an old wooden house on the top of a hill, 
 
 Weather-beaten and dingy and gray. 
 With a large gaping hole in the old cellar wall. 
 
 And the chimney all crumbled away. 
 As it stood, a grim relic of days that were gone. 
 
 With its rooms all so empty and still, 
 What a wonderful picture was brought to my mind 
 
 By the house on the top of the hill. 
 
 For the house seemed transformed by a coat of white 
 paint, 
 
 105 
 
And was trimmed by a shade of dark green ; 
 While a bright cheerful fire, from inside, sent the 
 smoke 
 Overhead to the strong oaken beam. 
 Once the windows were pretty and curtained in 
 white, 
 With green plants or some flowers on the sill. 
 Jn the evening was streaming a radiant light, 
 From the house on the top of the hill. 
 
 Through the wide open door, at the close of the day. 
 
 Came a man who was robust and tall; 
 In a rocker, a woman awaiting him there, 
 
 In the picture, seemed kindly and small. 
 The sweet look on her face, as she glanced from her 
 work. 
 
 Dimmed my eyes with bright teardrops, and still 
 I perceived that he kissed her and that love was a 
 guest 
 
 In th€ house on the top of the hill. 
 
 Where a pile of red brick lay all tumbled about 
 
 There had once stood a low trundle-bed. 
 And the two often knelt by the side of the crib 
 
 Where the prayers of an evening were said. 
 So the years passed along, filled with pleasure and 
 pain. 
 
 With a duty each day to fulfill ; 
 And full many remember, with fond loving hearts, 
 
 The old house on the top of the hill. 
 
 1 06 
 
Our Flag 
 
 Why does this Nation love the red, white and blue ! 
 Why do millions of hearts for the colors beat true ! 
 And we look to the thousands of graves of our dead 
 Where the flag plainly marks those who marched 
 on ahead; 
 And you say here's the reason, no greater love shone 
 For they gave up their lives and their loved ones 
 at home, 
 And fought for their country with love great and 
 true ; 
 That's the reason we love the red, white and the 
 blue. 
 
 Though our love for these heroes may deepen our 
 love 
 For our glorious flag which waves proudly above, 
 There are still other reasons for this love true and 
 great, 
 Though this reason would truly seem plenty to 
 state ; 
 And you see an old mother now sad and alone ; 
 
 She gave her dear husband and son from her home. 
 
 Though she gave all she had, which made life worth 
 
 the while 
 
 As she gave for the flag, so she gave with a smile. 
 
 Is there found the origin of the love great and true 
 
 107 
 
For our Star Spangled Banner, the red, white and 
 blue? 
 
 Then we go to the depot and board a fast train, 
 
 And ride many miles o'er mountains and plain, 
 And across this wide country, where'er you may be, 
 You see all the people and they're happy and free. 
 O'er your being comes stealing a feeling of awe 
 When we say we've no rulers, we make our own 
 law. 
 And you've discovered what kindles the love great 
 and true 
 For our Star Spangled Banner, the red, white and 
 blue. 
 It's what the flag stands for as it waves there on 
 high, 
 It's for principle our soldiers fight on till they die ; 
 It's for freedom together all over the land ; 
 
 It's what the flag stands for, by the flag let us 
 stand. 
 
 1 08 
 
A Soldier's Dream 
 
 How oft' a sentinel near a dugout door, 
 
 Mid peril, hardship, sorrow, hunger, cold; 
 On shell-scarred battlefield has studied o'er 
 
 The beauties which this picture would unfold. 
 A sheltered lane along the orchard's lee. 
 
 Where cattle slowly wend their homeward way ; 
 A cottage door where Mother waits to see 
 
 Her boy return just at the close of day. 
 All Nature, in her finest garb arrayed; 
 
 The broad, green fields; the dark wood's cool 
 retreat ; 
 The deep inviting depths of forest glade, 
 
 Which call in accents clear, alluring, sweet; 
 The old, familiar paths, which know his tread. 
 
 Where clouds of white float in the azure blue 
 To wreath fantastic figures overhead 
 
 And match, at eve, the rainbow's tinted hue. 
 V/ith conscience freed from duty's stern demands. 
 
 What happy hours, with winged feet, would fly. 
 What joy to hold, in friendship dear, those hands 
 
 W^hich wipe the tear of welcome from the eye. 
 In Memory's Hall hang wondrous works of art. 
 
 Rare pictures Life has painted through the years, 
 Rich, golden sunbeams frame the larger part 
 
 But some are draped in sadness and in tears. 
 This masterpiece, unfinished, held the view, 
 
 With frame of gold and beautifully designed, 
 
 109 
 
For, pinned thereon, the ribbon was of blue. 
 
 Each perfect stroke was in some heart enshrined. 
 The house of dreams was fair — Life painted well. 
 
 Though golden sunbeams die and teardrops fall 
 And life may drop the brush, yet who can tell? 
 
 The picture may be finished after all. 
 
 Dreaming 
 
 As the fire slowly fades to an ember 
 And the light, in the room, grows dim, 
 In the old arm-chair, by the fireplace, 
 I dream of the days that have been. 
 In my dreaming I see a white cottage 
 And roses, which clustered the door. 
 While my mother waves from the doorway 
 At me as I go to the war. 
 
 Her hair is sprinkled with silver. 
 
 And her face is wrinkled with care. 
 But her eyes hold no sign of a teardrop 
 
 As she stands in the doorway there ; 
 But I knew she was only waiting 
 
 Till I would pass over the hill. 
 For I knew that her heart was breaking; 
 
 Then, I knew that her eyes would fill. 
 
 Now I see, as I muse in the twilight, 
 
 An old French barn at night ; 
 Where boys, all dressed in khaki, 
 
 no 
 
Talk by the candle-light. 
 As they talk of the coming battle, 
 
 Their hearts are light and strong 
 But mine is heavy with sadness, 
 
 For the mother I loved is gone. 
 
 How I love to count the faces 
 
 Of the boys where that candle burned, 
 Though of all those splendid comrades 
 
 There are few who e'er returned ; 
 And so I dream by the fireside 
 
 Of Mother, and boys out there, 
 But I guess I'll seek my pillow 
 
 And leave the old armchair. 
 
 Little Boy Blue 
 
 While the shadows of night are gathering, 
 
 And the birds have hushed their song, 
 I am sitting alone, by the firelight, 
 
 Dreaming of days that are gone. 
 And I hear, or is it a fancy. 
 
 The patter of baby feet. 
 And someone calhng "Mama," 
 
 In a voice that is heavenly sweet. 
 But alas ! I am only dreaming ! 
 
 My little Boy Blue is dead ! 
 And I am alone with my sorrow, 
 
 And the shadows are dark overhead. 
 R. C. by permission 
 
 III 
 
Memories 
 
 Through the window, from the lawn, 
 
 Comes the sound of pattering feet ; 
 
 Dear little children, hurrying on. 
 
 Soon invading my retreat. 
 
 In sweet innocence and truth, 
 
 Heedless of tomorrow's care; 
 
 All in beauty, health and youth ; 
 
 Bless them. Dear Lord, is my prayer. 
 
 On a hillside 'neath the snow. 
 
 On this cold and wintry day. 
 
 Dear little heads are buried low 
 
 While these happy children play. 
 
 One by one we laid them there. 
 
 Free from sorrow, free from pain, 
 
 Back into His loving care ; 
 
 Back into His arms again. 
 
 Up above the azure blue; 
 
 Up in Heaven, happy, bright; 
 
 Little spirits that we knew. 
 
 Round God's throne are robed in white. 
 
 Singing songs, so new and sweet, 
 
 In some glorious, heavenly strain; 
 
 Gathered happy round His feet. 
 
 Of His ways we can't complain. 
 
 God, in wisdom, took away 
 
 Half my children from the nest; 
 
 Half remain with me today, 
 
 112 
 

Surely I may call Him blest. 
 
 But a few short years have flown, 
 
 It but seems as yesterday, 
 
 They to man's estate have grown ; 
 
 Strong, true hearts to lead the way. 
 
 Back From The Trenches 
 
 The evening sun is sinking through the trees. 
 The leaves have changed from green to gold. 
 
 Then, in the twilight, soldiers gather round 
 And many are the stories told. 
 
 Soft strains of music float from windows near, 
 And clear and sweet the voices blend. 
 
 Out in the grove the chairs draw closer still, 
 The day is coming to an end. 
 
 But over here, so far from dangerous foe, 
 The stories told seem as a dream. 
 
 Impossible, almost, such things are so 
 While midst this quiet, peaceful scene. 
 
 One soldier waves the handle of his crutch 
 
 And, much excited, fans the air; 
 He lives again the horror of the war, 
 
 And sees his comrades over there. 
 
 Another tells the tale of empty sleeve, 
 
 Receiving sympathy from all, 
 But with the love of duty that he shows 
 
 The sacrifice to him is small. 
 
 113 
 
Each has some wound ; each has some tale to tell ; 
 
 They tell of wondrous deeds they do. 
 They seldom laugh. Their stories stir your blood, 
 
 So grim, yet glorious and true. 
 
 All have seen service, fearing not to die ; 
 
 To serve, that freedom's flag, unfurled, 
 May fly in peace and nations all enjoy 
 
 Such evenings over all the world. 
 
 Annoyances 
 
 Rattle, rattle, bang, bang, 
 Puff, puff, whang, whang, 
 
 It is that old steam engine 
 Making such confusion, 
 
 To which I make allusion. 
 
 Ding, ding, dong, dong, 
 What an irritating gong; 
 
 A man upon a building, 
 In such a noisy manner, 
 
 Is pounding with a hammer. 
 
 Toot, toot, shriek, shriek, 
 Whistles, blowing in a pique, 
 
 Help make the racket greater. 
 My nerves are in a flutter, 
 
 But what's the use to sputter? 
 
Your Strug-g-les 
 
 Did you ever sit, at the verge of night, 
 
 When Nature seemed at rest. 
 And search your mind, through the golden years, 
 
 For the pictures you love best? 
 As the mystic span of the dark, dim past 
 
 Brings treasures to your view, 
 The richest gems, from the depths you search, 
 
 Are the struggles you went through. 
 
 Did you ever sit, at the verge of night, 
 
 With friends you loved o'er all. 
 And watch the sun as it slowly sank 
 
 In the west, a golden ball? 
 No ruddy rays of that grand sunset 
 
 Were cast on matchless blue. 
 For the clouds, that formed the deep background, 
 
 Are the struggles you went through. 
 
 Did you ever sit, at the verge of night, 
 
 Where mountain trails divide ; 
 Where one, which led to the gloomy depths 
 
 Was easy and smooth and wide. 
 And choose the one to the dizzy heights. 
 
 Clad in a roseate hue, 
 To find your joy, when you reached the top, 
 
 In the struggles you went through? 
 
 115 
 
Lines On The Death Of Longfellow 
 
 Father, there comes gently knocking 
 
 At thy heavenly portal there, 
 One who's shed o'er life the sunshine 
 
 Of his spirit, bright and fair. 
 Let the angels hasten quickly. 
 
 Open wide the heavenly door. 
 Who more fitted, Lord, to enter 
 
 To Thy welcome evermore? 
 Earth has lost, by death, a poet. 
 
 One who's works will still remain. 
 Gladdening many a life of sorrow, 
 
 Soothing many a life of pain, 
 Raising many a brother's courage, 
 
 Scattering sunshine by the way. 
 Who more worthy. Lord, to enter 
 
 To Thy bright, eternal day? 
 All through life he scattered flowers 
 
 And their beauty was expressed 
 In his works, a blessed example 
 
 Of Thy love and tenderness. 
 Nobly, has he done his life-work. 
 
 And his fame will spread the more 
 Through the ages and to distant 
 
 Homes bring cheer in goodly store. 
 Yet he's known his share of heartache. 
 
 In his life was grief and care ; 
 
 ii6 
 
But thy tender love has kept him, 
 
 Did not let his heart despair. 
 Golden grain that he has winnowed ; 
 
 Works which ages will enjoy ; 
 Show the rarest kind of talent ; 
 
 Purest gold without alloy. 
 Life is often like a garden, 
 
 Seeds are watered oft' with tears. 
 Brightest flowers and rarest blossoms. 
 
 Growing slowly through the years, 
 Reach with age a sweet perfection. 
 
 But the noonday heat they bear 
 Is the hand of God that's working; 
 
 So it is with grief and care. 
 
 A Nutting We Will Go 
 
 When the leaves are all a-shimmer as the sunshine 
 glints on gold; 
 
 And the air sets cheeks a-tingle with the first faint 
 touch of cold ; 
 
 When the chestnuts rattle from the trees and squir- 
 rels overhead, 
 
 Set up a noisy chatter, from their haunts of green 
 and red 
 
 How good it is to be alive. Rouse all the youngsters 
 
 out 
 And we will make the woodland ring with merry 
 
 117 
 
laugh and shout. 
 The frost has loosened up the burrs, we'll fill our 
 
 sacks I know. 
 Bring up the old horse to the door, a-nutting we 
 
 will go. 
 
 Out in the shadow of the wood, we'll have a noon-day 
 
 spread 
 And to the feathered songsters we will scatter 
 
 crumbs of bread. 
 We'll wreath each plate with blossoms and with moss 
 
 and grasses neat, 
 And we'll find a spring of water where it's flowing 
 
 pure and sweet. 
 Oh it will be the height of fun ! Why tarry? We 
 
 must start; 
 'Twill make the children happy, each one hasten do 
 
 your part. 
 With our baskets brimming over ere the sun is sink- 
 ing low 
 We'll all come driving home again, a-nutting we 
 
 must go. 
 
 iiS 
 
The Churches 
 
 'Turn back on the highway before it's too late,*' 
 
 A true friend advised me one day ; 
 "You have passed in your travel a wide open gate 
 
 And your footsteps are going astray." 
 So I took his advice and I turned on my heel, 
 
 But I found open gates in a row. 
 And at each stood a fellow who cried, full of zeal 
 
 **0h this is the way you should go." 
 
 One crier explained, "I've a stairway of gold 
 
 And it leads to the foot of the cross." 
 "The straight narrow path is the way," one foretold, 
 
 "You must follow this way or be lost." 
 Another one said, "By the Bible I've proof 
 
 This gateway will lead unto God. 
 In the crown of success is a jewel of truth 
 
 Down the pathway our Saviour has trod." 
 
 So they argued and wrangled, I standing the while 
 
 Neglected. I turned to my friend 
 And he gripped my shoulder and said, with a smile, 
 
 "Each path is the same in the end. 
 Just follow the Master, be loving and kind, 
 
 No fellow is wrong who is right ; 
 Each creed may deviate and though each may wind, 
 
 In Heaven, all paths will unite. 
 
 119 
 
A Precious Gift 
 
 Before the breaking of the dawn, which streaked 
 
 the sky a rosy red, 
 The shelter of the trench we left, protected by the 
 
 shells o'erhead. 
 No downy couch or peaceful dreams had soothed our 
 
 nerves or banished pain. 
 Rest-broken — ^burdened with great loads — ^we start- 
 ed in the leaden rain. 
 The thrilling days ; the sleepless nights ; the tortured 
 
 lips the sun's hot glare. 
 Which followed, as we struggled on, engraved each 
 
 face with lines of care. 
 And boyish faces, caked with dirt, grew old and eyes 
 
 from hollows deep 
 Looked out, but there I learned to prize the precious 
 
 boon of peaceful sleep. 
 
 No sentry paces by my door nor sounds a call of 
 
 "Allis well;" 
 N6r guards me from the poison-gas, the aeroplanes, 
 
 or shot and shell. 
 Beneath the stars, I stand no watch. The bugle call 
 
 has lost its power 
 To rouse me with the early morn, but often in the 
 
 twilight hour. 
 Awakened from my sweet repose, I see the eastern 
 
 sky aglow, 
 
 120 
 
And, in the blissful land of dreams, I view those 
 
 scenes I used to know. 
 The lousy beds of straw I see, the slum, the cold, mud 
 
 ankle deep ; 
 Then draw the white sheet o'er my head and give a 
 
 sigh and go to sleep. 
 
 Spring- Time 
 
 Spring time, sweet with tears and smiles, 
 
 With hopes of better days to come. 
 The winter's storm, our fears and trials, 
 
 Have faded with thy golden sun. 
 Dissolving as the pure white snow. 
 
 Our sorrows, scattered to the wind. 
 By thy sweet smile and cheering glow. 
 
 Leave naught but joy and peace behind. 
 What happy feeling of relief 
 
 Is wi*ought by birds in joyful song. 
 They cheer our hearts and soften grief; 
 
 The winter's storms were dark and long. 
 The green leaves blossom, with each bud 
 
 121 
 
A shelter from the heat is made. 
 Dame Nature knows the sun's warm flood 
 
 Requires a deep, luxurious shade. 
 The heat brings forth the shielding leaves, 
 
 A gift divine, requiring thought; 
 The need arises. He achieves ; 
 
 With tenderness and beauty wrought. 
 God's plan is perfect, kindly, wise. 
 
 He shields us from the noontide heat 
 And scatters beauty for our eyes, 
 
 With pretty flowers strewn at our feet. 
 
 122 
 
The Hidden Thought 
 
 The mirror sends back a reflection, it's the image of 
 
 God — a man ; 
 Made in His likeness and placed on earth to work His 
 
 eternal plan. 
 Your heart is linked to the heart divine, a part of the 
 
 perfect whole ; 
 With His tender love to guide you, you have in your 
 
 charge, a soul. 
 Are you sure of the path, as you push along, your eye 
 
 on the distant star ? 
 Tell me your secret, hidden thoughts and I'll tell you 
 
 if you are. 
 
 In the beauteous Spring, in the sunshine, go find on 
 
 the distant hill 
 A mound of ants which was builded by patient and 
 
 marvelous skill. 
 And so is the mind of man built up, o'er the path the 
 
 Saviour trod. 
 Till it measures the beautiful Heavens, that are filled 
 
 with the peace of God. 
 Are you wending a path toward the Heaven's blue— 
 
 a path you may travel far ? 
 Tell me your secret, hidden thoughts and I'll tell you 
 
 if you are. 
 
 123 
 
Do you crowd along in a ruthless way, with no 
 thought of the deed unkind, 
 
 Or in sacred prayer, are you building up a pure and 
 holy mind ? 
 
 In your neighbor's grief do you turn away, unmind- 
 ful of his pain, 
 
 And think in your lack of sympathy, "He's warped 
 of soul and brain." 
 
 Or have you love and a simple faith which no greed 
 or gold can mar ? 
 
 Tell me your secret, hidden thoughts and I'll tell you 
 what you are. 
 
 Guard you well the hidden thought, for thoughts are 
 
 the deeds unborn. 
 Your unkindly thought may blossom forth to hold 
 
 up your life to scorn. 
 The seeds that are sown in the secret mind, when 
 
 held to the light, will show 
 That an evil thought is an evil deed but waiting a 
 
 chance to grow. 
 So fill your soul with the beauty of God, a gift of the 
 
 Heavens afar. 
 And study with care your secret thoughts, for they 
 
 make you what you are. 
 
 124 
 
Keep To The Right 
 
 What a wondrous sermon painted on the sign-post by 
 
 the road, 
 What a lesson it was teaching, what a world of love it 
 
 showed ; 
 Just four words with fourteen letters, on a fence, 
 
 were painted white ; 
 For our guidance they are written, follow them, 
 
 "Keep to the right." 
 
 Lanes will widen through the traffic, there's no 
 
 short-cut to the mile. 
 Crowds will always be good-natured if you greet 
 
 them with a smile. 
 Down Life's pathway to the ending, with a gladsome 
 
 heart and hght. 
 Ne'er o'ercrowding other people, watch your step, 
 
 ''Keep to the right." 
 
 Darkness often will o'ertake you. Twilight follows 
 
 light of day. 
 But through shadows, as in sunshine, you may keep 
 
 upon your way; 
 But to help the other fellow trim your lamp and keep 
 
 it bright. 
 And this warning please remember, steer with care, 
 
 ''Keep to the right." 
 
 125 
 
INDEX 
 
 Dedication 7 
 
 Foreword 8 
 
 How I Came to Enlist 9 
 
 The Battle of Cantigny 13 
 
 The Storm 22 
 
 Blessings 24 
 
 Perfection 25 
 
 Leisure Moments 27 
 
 A Woodland Rill 28 
 
 A Hunting Scene 29 
 
 Dewdrops 38 
 
 A Contented Mind is a Continual Feast 40 
 
 The Bottle 41 
 
 The Nails in the Post 44 
 
 Darling 49 
 
 My Airship 52 
 
 The Railroad Man 53 
 
 Johnny's Penny 55 
 
 Rest Ye In Peace 58 
 
 Lieut. Redwood, of Baltimore 59 
 
 The Old Red Swing 60 
 
 Nature's Teachings 61 
 
 Along The Way 63 
 
 Little Things 64 
 
 Be Thankful.. 66 
 
 The Silver Flask 67 
 
 126 
 
Home Runs , 75 
 
 Everybody Outside 76 
 
 Pay Day in France 79 
 
 Mother 82 
 
 Hardtack Bill 84 
 
 To a Soldier 92 
 
 A Summer Shower 94 
 
 Ode To The Moon 95 
 
 A Word of Cheer 96 
 
 Lamentation 98 
 
 Old Glory 99 
 
 Deeper Thought 100 
 
 Old Mac 103 
 
 The Old House 105 
 
 Our Flag 107 
 
 A Soldier's Dream 109 
 
 Dreaming 110 
 
 Little Boy Blue Ill 
 
 Memories , 112 
 
 Back From the Trenches 113 
 
 Annoyances 114 
 
 Your Struggles 115 
 
 Lines on the Death of Longfellow 116 
 
 A Nutting we Will Go 117 
 
 The Churches 119 
 
 A Precious Gift 120 
 
 Spring Time 121 
 
 The Hidden Thought 123 
 
 Keep to the Right 125 
 
 127