The Final Stretch.

Almost done.

BABY AND MOTHER.

M--Knowest of life, my baby?

B--Aye, not yet.

M--Knowest thou its toilings, dear one?

B--I do not fret.

M--What thinkest thou, my darling?

B--I do not know.

M--What would'st thou have, my sweet one?

B--Only to grow.

M--Perhaps thou'lt not tell, my treasure?

B--Curious thou art--'tis your due.

M--Rebukest thou me, my baby?

B--I love sleepy dreams and you.

KITTY TOPSY.

O, you naughty Topsy!

What mischief are you brewing,

Now biting at my flowers?

Such deeds you're ever doing.

Listen! in the garret,

Don't you hear a laughing?

Feet of mice now tapping,

Joy--elixir--quaffing.

Scouts of mice are peeping,

While you curl for napping;

You're just lazy, Topsy,

While mice keep softly tapping.

SWING, BIRDIE ** A MOTION SONG

Birdie in the tree-top high,

Swing, birdie, swing;

Swing away, but do not fly,

Swing, birdie swing.

Chorus:

Swing, birdie, swing birdie,

Swing, birdie, swing;

Swing, birdie, swing, birdie,

Swing, birdie, swing.

(Man, that birdie can SWING!)

Sing your song of music sweet,

Swing, birdie, swing,

Holding tight with tiny feet,

Swing birdie, swing.

What's your song, O, birdie dear?

Swing, birdie, swing.

"Soothing baby birdies near."

Swing, birdie, swing.

Swinging while your darlings rest,

Swing, birdie, swing;

God is watching o'er your nest,

Swing, birdie, swing.

(Coulda been a jazz great. Might still be, if I get un-lazy all about it.)

UNTITLED

Dark is the earth, but heaven is not drear,

Weary the toil, but God is ever near,

Lone are our hearts, the Comforter so dear,

Sweetly bids us rest and never, never fear.

Chorus:

Loved ones, come home, Christ says "'Tis I,"

Hear from our heaven the pleading cry;

Back answer voices "We're coming nigh,

Coming, yes, coming by and by."

My Shepherd's He, and want shall never I,

In pastures green He maketh me to lie,

He the still waters ever leadeth by,

My soul restoreth, His loving presence nigh.

Repeat Chorus.

--Mrs. Emma G. Hall.

NOTE:--This little bit of verse is set to a sweet little tune by Mrs. Hall, its author.

--J. H. B. Hall.

(Wish I had the tune!)

THE NEXT TIME

A wee, wee baby chick,

Lay winking at the sun:

Old mother hen clucked--

"Come, come, my little one.

"Come, come, my baby chick,

The sun will make your head

Just sick enough to doddle;

It will sure kill you dead."

But the silly little toddle

Didn't run a bit quick--

Till his head began to doddle,

Till he grew very sick.

Then hastily he staggered,

With his wee legs a-waddle.

"Next time my ma says 'Come'

Quick to her I'll toddle."

December 10, 1906

Divinity Hall,

Lebanon, Tenn.

FAILURE AND SUCCESS

"I have striven and lost,"

Said the youth with a sigh;

"I have naught for the cost--

Only in defeat to lie."

By what rules did you fight?--

By fairness and by truth?

By honor and by right?--

My brave and noble youth.

If these declare your creed,

Then beware how you count:

By them heroes succeed;

By them do victors mount.

Motive is more than end,

Character more than crown; (--I wish she'd used renown here, or some other rhyming word)

These the truest glory lend

And an immortal crown.

December 19, 1906.

(And now another poem from my great-great-grandpa.)

AT THE DOOR.

--o--

The night was bitter, bitter cold;

Mantled in snow was all the earth.

The evening stories had been told,

Brimming the wintry hours with mirth,

While slept the kitties on the hearth.

"Good nights" had lovingly been said,

The kitties from the warm room exiled:

The children slept and dreamt in bed,

While the glad stars in heaven smiled--

While Fancy in visions beguiled.

Ere Aurora, the rosy fingered,

Shook from her robes the golden day,

Kits at the door pleading lingered:

"Out here! Cold! Out here! Cold!"--they say

In tones the children quick obey.--

One day the children went away,

The dear old home to glad no more:

Still kitties came, at dawn of day,

Pleading at little masters' door--

Pleading for entrance as of yore.

--Papa

Birmingham, Ala.,

(West End),

January, 1897.