Just Folks | Page 7

pink 'in yer baby's cheeks.
An' out o' yer breast flies a
weight o' care,
An' ye're lifted up by some magic spell,
An' yer
heart jes' naturally beats a prayer
O' joy to the Lord 'cause she's gittin'
well.
Manhood's Greeting
I've' felt some little thrills of pride, I've inwardly rejoiced Along the
pleasant lanes of life to hear my praises voiced; No great distinction
have I claimed, but in a humble way
Some satisfactions sweet have
come to brighten many a day;
But of the joyous thrills of life the
finest that could be
Was mine upon that day when first a stranger
"mistered" me.
I had my first long trousers on, and wore a derby too,
But I was still 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,