Just Folks | Page 7

a little boy to everyone I knew.?I dressed in manly fashion, and I tried to act the part,?But I felt that I was awkward and lacked the manly art.?And then that kindly stranger spoke my name and set me free; I was sure I'd come to manhood on the day he "mistered" me.
I never shall forget the joy that suddenly was mine,?The sweetness of the thrill that seemed to dance along my spine, The pride that swelled within me, as he shook my youthful hand And treated me as big enough with grown up men to stand.?I felt my body straighten and a stiffening at each knee,?And was gloriously happy, just because he'd "mistered" me.
I cannot now recall his name, I only wish I could.?I've often wondered if that day he really understood?How much it meant unto a boy, still wearing boyhood's tan,?To find that others noticed that he'd grown to be a man.?Now I try to treat as equal every growing boy I see?In memory of that kindly man--the first to "mister" me.
Fishing Nooks
"Men will grow weary," said the Lord,?"Of working for their bed and board.?They'll weary of the money chase?And want to find a resting place?Where hum of wheel is never heard?And no one speaks an angry word,?And selfishness and greed and pride?And petty motives don't abide.?They'll need a place where they can go?To wash their souls as white as snow.?They will be better men and true?If they can play a day or two."
The Lord then made the brooks to flow?And fashioned rivers here below,?And many lakes; for water seems?Best suited for a mortal's dreams.?He placed about them willow trees?To catch the murmur of the breeze,?And sent the birds that sing the best?Among the foliage to nest.?He filled each pond and stream and lake?With fish for man to come and take;?Then stretched a velvet carpet deep?On which a weary soul could sleep.
It seemed to me the Good Lord knew?That man would want something to do?When worn and wearied with the stress?Of battling hard for world success.?When sick at heart of all the strife?And pettiness of daily life,?He knew he'd need, from time to time,?To cleanse himself of city grime,?And he would want some place to be?Where hate and greed he'd never see.?And so on lakes and streams and brooks?The Good Lord fashioned fishing nooks.
Show the Flag
Show the flag and let it wave?As a symbol of the brave?Let it float upon the breeze?As a sign for each who sees?That beneath it, where it rides,?Loyalty to-day abides.
Show the flag and signify?That it wasn't born to die;?Let its colors speak for you?That you still are standing true,?True in sight of God and man?To the work that flag began.
Show the flag that all may see?That you serve humanity.?Let it whisper to the breeze?That comes singing through the trees?That whatever storms descend?You'll be faithful to the end.
Show the flag and let it fly,?Cheering every passer-by.?Men that may have stepped aside,?May have lost their old-time pride,?May behold it there, and then,?Consecrate themselves again.
Show the flag! The day is gone?When men blindly hurry on?Serving only gods of gold;?Now the spirit that was cold?Warms again to courage fine.?Show the flag and fall in line!
Constant Beauty
It's good to have the trees again, the singing of the breeze again, It's good to see the lilacs bloom as lovely as of old.?It's good that we can feel again the touch of beauties real again, For hearts and minds, of sorrow now, have all that they can hold.
The roses haven't changed a bit, nor have the lilacs stranged a bit, They bud and bloom the way they did before the war began.?The world is upside down to-day, there's much to make us frown to-day, And gloom and sadness everywhere beset the path of man.
But now the lilacs bloom again and give us their perfume again, And now the roses smile at us and nod along the way;?And it is good to see again the blossoms on each tree again, And feel that nature hasn't changed the way we have to-day.
Oh, we have changed from what we were; we're not the carefree lot we were; Our hearts are filled with sorrow now and grave concern and pain, But it is good to see once more, the blooming lilac tree once more, And find the constant roses here to comfort us again.
A Patriotic Creed
To serve my country day by day?At any humble post I may;?To honor and respect her flag,?To live the traits of which I brag;?To be American in deed?As well as in my printed creed.
To stand for truth and honest toil,?To till my little patch of soil,?And keep in mind the debt I owe?To them who died that I might know?My country, prosperous and free,?And passed this heritage to me.
I always must in trouble's hour?Be guided by the men in