THE VANISHING ARMY BY ARTHUR LEWIS TUBBS G. A. R. From the wave-washed strand of the Golden Land From the mountains that fringe the frozen North Comes the tramp of feet to the drummer's beat, For the soldier boys are marching again, To keep Memorial Day. They were heroes all when the trumpet's call Was heard in the days gone by; For their hearts were brave and their hearts were true, When they heard their country's cry. But now, as they come to the fife and drum, 'Tis a loving tribute to pay, And a path of flowers for these heroes of ours For the Stripes and Stars and the gleaming bars And a friendly cheer is all they hear, Or the children's voices in song. The weapons are rusted and silent now That once they used in the fray; The ranks grow thinner, the marchers few, On many a mound that was not found Whether they sleep the dreamless sleep, We'll never forget the boundless debt The nation can never pay. Let Northern blossoms and Southern blooms A token of peace that years increase And whether the heroes wore the blue, WHEN BABY LAUGHS BY A. J. WATERHOUSE I wonder what she's dreaming 'bout, I guess some angel from above, Swift winging to and fro, Doth pause to whisper to my love And when she laughs I guess he flies Straight where God's hosts rejoice, And bears beyond the bending skies The music of her voice. Then, through the mighty anthem's swell Her laughter striketh clear, Sweeter than tone of any bell, And angels pause to hear. For what hath Heaven compared with this; There beat so many voices here So when my baby's laugh rings out, To try to catch the whisper, too, THE HOLY CITY BY F. E. WEATHERLY Last night I lay a sleeping, Beside the temple there. I heard the children singing, And ever as they sang, Lift up your gates and sing, Hosanna to your King! And then methought my dream was chang'd, Hush'd were the glad Hosannas The little children sang. The sun grew dark with mystery, The morn was cold and chill As the shadow of a cross arose upon a lonely hill. As the shadow of a cross arose upon a lonely hill. Jerusalem! Jerusalem! Hark! how the Angels sing, Hosanna in the highest, Hosanna to your King. And once again the scene was chang'd, New earth there seem'd to be, I saw the Holy City Beside the tideless sea; The light of God was on its streets, The gates were open wide, And all who would might enter, And no one was denied. No need of moon or stars by night, It was the new Jerusalem THE QUESTIONER BY CARL WERNER I called the boy to my knee one day, More clouded skies than blue And I anxiously peered in his upturned face For it seemed to say: "Did you?" I touched my lips to his tiny own And I said to the boy: "Heigh, ho! Those lips are as sweet as the hay, new-mown; Will you keep them always so?" Then back from those years came a rakish song – |