The Old Soldiers Story

She averted her gaze, and she sighed and looked sad As I held out my hand--for the ring that she had-- With the bitterer speech that I hoped she might be Resigned to look up and be happy with me.

'Twas a test, as I said--but God pity your grief, At a moment like this when a smile of relief Shall leap to the lips of the woman you prize, And no mist of distress in her glorious eyes.

A SONG FOR CHRISTMAS

Chant me a rhyme of Christmas-- Sing me a jovial song,-- And though it is filled with laughter, Let it be pure and strong.

Let it be clear and ringing, And though it mirthful be, Let a low, sweet voice of pathos Run through the melody.

Sing of the hearts brimmed over With the story of the day-- Of the echo of childish voices That will not die away.--

Of the blare of the tasselled bugle, And the timeless clatter and beat Of the drum that throbs to muster Squadrons of scampering feet.--

Of the wide-eyed look of wonder,