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-The Project Gutenberg eBook of Told in the twilight, by F. E.
-Weatherly
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
-of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
-using this eBook.
-
-Title: Told in the twilight
-
-Author: F. E. Weatherly
-
-Illustrators: M. Ellen Edwards
- John C. Staples
-
-Release Date: February 3, 2023 [eBook #69938]
-
-Language: English
-
-Produced by: Charlene Taylor and the Online Distributed Proofreading
- Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from
- images generously made available by The Internet
- Archive/American Libraries.)
-
-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT ***
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration: Told in the Twilight]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
- TOLD
- IN THE
- TWILIGHT
-
- by F. E. Weatherly
-
- Illustrated by
-
- M. ELLEN EDWARDS
- &
- JOHN C. STAPLES
-
- NEW YORK
- E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY
- 39, WEST TWENTY THIRD STREET.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: _TWILIGHT LAND._]
-
- The day is done, the day is done,
- And all the troubles of the day!
- The long last crimson of the sun
- Is melting into silver gray.
- The old world slowly fades from view,
- Within another world we stand,
- And all is strange and all is new,
- For this, for this is Twilight-land.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: _THE TWILIGHT HOUR._]
-
- Children, who read these little rhymes,
- Out of the Twilight-land sent clear,
- There’s many a one in these hurrying times,
- Has not the time, like you, to hear.
-
- But, children, this is your hour indeed;
- And this is its beauty, this its power,
- That all you love and that all you need
- Comes to your hearts in the twilight hour.
-
- This is the hour when dreams come true,
- And life has never a tear or care,
- When those you have lost come back to you,
- And all your castles are strong and fair.
-
- Then, children, who read, and I who write,—
- Shall we not pray with all our power,
- That whatever we lose of the world’s delight,
- We lose not the peace of the twilight hour?
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: _CONTENTS._]
-
- _TITLE PAGE_, 1.
-
- _THE OLD PICTURE BOOK_, 48.
-
- _BELL’S DREAM_, 10, 11, 14, 15.
-
- _BELL’S DREAM_, 10, 11, 14, 15.
-
- _LONDON RIVER_, 17.
-
- _THE ABBEY SWALLOWS_, 19.
-
- _THE MISGUIDED LAMB_, 21, 23.
-
- _THE MISGUIDED LAMB_, 21, 23.
-
- _THE POET AND THE PRINTER_, 32, 33.
-
- _THE POET AND THE PRINTER_, 32, 33.
-
- _MINNIE’S CALCULATIONS_, 27.
-
- _DREAMS_, 28.
-
- _SORROWS_, 31.
-
- _HARRY’S SOLILOQUY_, 35.
-
-[Illustration]
-
- _THE DEAD RABBIT_, 37.
-
- _THE UNAPPRECIATIVE KITTEN_, 39.
-
- _THE DONKEY AND THE CHILD (picture)_, 40.
-
- _SUMMER TIME (picture)_, 41.
-
- _THE CAT’S SOLILOQUY_, 42.
-
- _TOBY’S LESSON_, 44.
-
- _SELINA’S DESTINY_, 46.
-
- _THE LOBSTER AND THE MAID_, 49, 50, 51.
-
- _NO THANK YOU, TOM_, 53.
-
- _A BUNCH OF FLOWERS_, 55.
-
- _THE CHILDREN’S SONG_, 58.
-
- _CHRISTMAS (picture)_, 57.
-
- _THE CHILDREN’S SONG_, 59.
-
- _A BOUGH OF HOLLY_, 61.
-
- _THE END_, 63.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: _BELL’S DREAM._]
-
- It was the little Isabel,
- Upon the sand she lay,
- The summer sun struck hotly down,
- And she was tired of play,
- And down she sank into the sea,
- Though how, she could not say.—
-
- She stood within a dreadful court,
- Beneath the rolling tide,
- There sate a sturgeon as a judge,
- Two lobsters at her side;
- She had a sort of vague idea
- That she was being tried.
-
- And then the jurymen came in,
- And, as the clock struck ten,
- Rose Sergeant Shark and hitched his gown,
- And trifled with a pen,
- “Ahem—may’t please your Lordship,
- And gentle jurymen!
-
- “The counts against the prisoner
- Before you, are that she
- Has eaten salmon once at least,
- And soles most constantly,
- Likewise devoured one hundred shrimps
- At Margate with her tea.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
- “Call witnesses!”—An oyster rose,
- He spoke in plaintive tone,
- “Last week her mother bought a fish,”
- (He scarce could check a moan,)—
- “He was a dear dear friend of mine,
- His weight was half a stone!”
-
- “No oysters, ma’am?” the fishman said,
- “No, not to-day!” said she;
- “My child is fond of salmon, but
- Oysters do not agree!”
- The fishman wiped a salt salt tear,
- And murmured “Certainly!”
-
- “Ahem—but,” interposed the judge,
- “How do you know,” said he,
- “That she did really eat the fish?”
- “My Lud, it so must be,
- Because the oysters, I submit,
- With her did not agree!”
-
- “Besides, besides,” the oyster cried
- Half in an injured way,
- “The oysters in that fishman’s shop
- My relatives were they:
- They heard it all, they wrote to me,
- The letter came to-day!”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
- “’Tis only hearsay evidence,”
- The judge remarked, and smiled,
- “But it will do in such a case,
- With such a murd’rous child.—
- Call the next witness!” for he saw
- The jury getting wild.
-
- And then uprose a little shrimp:
- “I am the last,” said he,
- “Of what was once, as you all know,
- A happy familee!
- Without a care we leapt and danced
- All in the merry sea!”
-
- “Alack! the cruel fisherman,
- He caught them all but me;
- The pris’ner clapped her hands and yelled—
- I heard her—‘Shrimps for tea!’
- And then went home and ate them all
- As fast as fast could be.”
-
- The foreman of the jury rose,
- (All hope for Bel has fled,)
- “There is no further need, my Lord,
- Of witnesses,” he said;
- “The verdict of us one and all
- Is _Guilty_ on each head!”
-
-[Illustration]
-
- “_Guilty_,” his Lordship said, and sighed,
- “A verdict sad but true:
- To pass the sentence of the court
- Is all I have to do;
- It is, that as you’ve fed on us,
- Why, we must feed on you!”
-
- She tried to speak; she could not speak;
- She tried to run, but no!
- The lobsters seized and hurried her
- Off to the cells below,
- And each pulled out a carving knife,
- And waved it to and fro.
-
- * * * *
-
- But hark! there comes a voice she knows,
- And some one takes her hand;
- She finds herself at home again
- Upon the yellow sand;
- But how she got there safe and sound,
- She cannot understand.
-
- And many a morning afterwards,
- Whene’er she sees the tide,
- She still retains that vague idea
- That she is being tried,
- And seems to see the sturgeon judge
- And the lobsters at her side.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: _LONDON RIVER._]
-
- All day long in the scorching weather,
- All day long in the winter gloom,
- Brother and sister stand together,
- She with her flowers and he with his broom.
-
- And the folks go on over London river,
- Poor and wealthy, busy and wise,
- Will nobody see those white lips quiver?
- Will nobody stop for those pleading eyes?
-
- The old bridge echoes the ceaseless thunder
- Of crowds that gather and stream along,
- And the stranger child shrinks back in wonder,
- She cannot sing in that hurrying throng.
-
- She thinks of her home across the ocean,
- With its deep blue sky and its vineyards green;
- But who will heed, in that wild commotion,
- The pitiful sound of her tambourine?
-
- Flow! flow! O London river,
- Carry thy ships from the mighty town,
- Smiles and tears in thy heart for ever,
- Smiles and tears as thou hurriest down!
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: _THE ABBEY SWALLOWS._]
-
- The year was late, the days were cold,
- The swallows long had gone,
- Two only by the Abbey door
- Still doubting lingered on.
- They hovered, wheeling round and round,
- Beside the porch in fear,
- And as they lighted on the ground
- A little child drew near.
-
- Close to her feet the swallows came,
- And twittered gay and glad,
- She broke her little crust for them—
- It was the last she had.
- Then blithe and gay they flew away,
- She to her corner crept;
- There was no one now in the world to care
- Whether she smiled or wept.
-
- With summer back the swallows came,
- Flew to the Abbey door,
- But no one stood to watch for them,
- The child was there no more.
- She had gone away on the angels’ wings,
- No more in the world to roam,
- For the love that she gave those helpless things,
- She has found in her Heavenly Home.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: _THE MISGUIDED LAMB._]
-
- There were two little girls who had
- A fond devoted Mammy,
- But spent their warm affections on
- A most ungrateful lamb-y,
-
- For spite of all the care of Ruth,
- And all the love of Mary,
- This lamb was a misguided youth,
- Most crooked and contràry.
-
- On Sunday, when they went to church,
- And wished to be without him,
- He used to wander up the aisle,
- And stop and stare about him.
-
- And when the parson and the clerk
- Looked stern at Ruth and Mary,
- They wished they did not own a lamb
- So crooked and contràry.
-
- He used to bleat most piteously
- When they came up the mountain,
- As if to say “I am so dry,
- I’d like to drink the fountain!”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
- But when they drew a pail for him,
- (You really scarce might think it,)
- He wagged his tail and winked his eye,
- And simply wouldn’t drink it.
-
- It chanced one day they went to pay
- Their morning salutation,
- But though they called, he never came,
- Much to their consternation.
-
- They sought him high, they sought him low,
- But no! they could not find him,
- They said “He will, he must come back,
- And bring his tail behind him.”
-
- They sought him up the windy cliff,
- And down the ferny hollow,
- And still they said “He can’t be lost!”
- And still their feet did follow.
-
- Alas! they found him dead at last—
- Alas! for Ruth and Mary:
- But then, you see, he always was
- So crooked and contràry.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: _MINNIE’S CALCULATIONS._]
-
- Said Minnie with pride,
- As she counted her chicks,
- “When they’re grown a bit bigger,
- I’ll sell all the six.
- And as each ought to fetch
- At the least half a crown,
- I can quite well afford me
- A new Sunday gown.”
-
- Alas for our castles!
- How soon they all slip!
- The cat ate one chicken,
- And one got the pip;
- And while mourning their brother
- And sister, the four
- Were crushed by the carter-boy
- Slamming the door.
-
- _Don’t reckon your chickens_
- _Before they are hatched_,
- Is a proverb some fancy
- Can never be matched.
- But I think that this other
- Deserves to be told:—
- _Don’t count on their value_
- _Until they are sold._
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: _DREAMS._]
-
- Sometimes, beneath the brightest skies,
- The children pause amid their play,
- With parted lips and earnest eyes
- In silence looking far away.
- We may not know, we cannot see
- The wonder-world whereon they gaze;
- Heaven grant, whate’er their dreams may be,
- They find them true in after days!
- Dreaming sit the children,
- Pausing in their play,
- Dreaming of what is, ah! so sweet,
- Because, because so far away.
-
- And we too have our dreams, our own,
- Amid the rush and toil of life,
- Our dreams of days and things long flown,
- That come like peace comes, after strife.
- Old hands we feel, old eyes we see,
- Within our ears old voices ring;
- They are but dreams, maybe, maybe,
- But oh! the blessing that they bring.
- Dreaming like the children,
- We dream from day to day,
- Dreaming of what is, ah! so sweet,
- Because, because so far away.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: _SORROWS._]
-
- There are sorrows, little children,
- That you cannot understand,
- As you watch our tears in wonder,
- As you take us by the hand.
- There are sorrows, little children,
- You cannot bear them yet,
- But you nestle close beside us,
- And you help us to forget.
- You comfort us, my darlings,
- And yet you know not how;
- You show us Heaven is near us,
- Though our tears may blind us now.
-
- There are little ones in Heaven,
- Gone a little while before,
- And they stand, to watch us coming,
- Beside the golden door.
- There are little ones in Heaven,
- They are calling you and me,
- When our hearts have grown forgetful,
- And our feet would wayward be.
- We can hear them, if we listen,
- We may meet them all one day,
- When our tears shall fall no longer,
- And the shadows flee away!
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: _THE POET AND THE PRINTER._]
-
- Two little girls—I met them once,
- But quite forget their name,
- You’ll find them on page twenty-four,
- The printer is to blame,
- The picture ought to face the words,
- But there! it’s all the same.
-
- Two little girls, as I remarked,
- They left their snug abode,
- Because they thought their dinner must
- Taste better on the road,
- For forks and spoons and tablecloths,
- They really incommode.
-
- The ditch is far, far pleasanter
- Than any high-backed chair,
- I’m sure you will agree with them
- If you’ll observe them there;
- And when they’d finished, off they trudged
- All thro’ the summer air.
-
- At last they reached a bridge (the bridge
- You’ll see on twenty-five),
- And on the bridge those little girls
- Are hanging all alive;
- It’s marvellous how hanging
- Will make some children thrive!
-
-[Illustration]
-
- They pondered which was best, to be
- Upon the bridge or under,
- And what they’d do suppose the bridge
- Were just to split asunder,
- But as they couldn’t settle that,
- They gave it up in wonder.
-
- Now, had these children dined at home,
- I think I may explain,
- We never should have seen them here
- At dinner in the lane:
- Unless when they had dined at home
- They’d dined out here again.
-
- And had the bridge been never built
- I think it must appear
- These children ne’er had found it, though
- They’d sought from year to year;
- So, how they could have hung on it,
- Is not exactly clear.
-
- And had I said, when I was asked,
- “I cannot sing in winter,
- I’ve run my throat against a door,
- And spiked it with a splinter;”—
- It would have put the artists out,
- And much annoyed the printer!
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: _HARRY’S SOLILOQUY._]
-
- “There’s ne’er a kitty so sweet and so pretty,
- There’s ne’er such a kitty I’ve seen in my life;
- “I’m certain,” said Harry, “if ever I marry,
- I shall only want kitty, a house, and a wife.”
-
- “This dear old barrow is nice, though it’s narrow,
- It will do very well to take us about;
- For my income of course is too small to keep horses,
- But that doesn’t matter, we’ll manage without.”
-
- But alas! for the dreams of the barrow and kitten,
- His father’s old pointer came back from the wood;
- And the poor little pussy with terror was smitten,
- And scampered away as fast as she could.
-
- And the gardener returned from his evening ablution,
- And trundled the barrow straight off to the shed;
- And Mary arrived, and with stern resolution
- Just carried off Harry and put him to bed.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: _THE DEAD RABBIT._]
-
- Weep on! he has a happier fate
- Than many such as he,
- To lie there in the gentle snow,
- And die so quietly:
- To feel your warm tears fall on him,
- To feel your tender hands.
- You _know_ he feels as well as you,
- You _know_ he understands.
-
- He might have now been dying
- Shot by a cruel gun;
- With panting heart and glazing eye
- For life he might have run.
- E’en now he might be hanging
- Above your larder shelves,
- And you, you might, indeed you might,
- Have eaten him yourselves.
-
- Weep on! you will not better it;
- Or change the world’s old way,
- For men will hunt and course and shoot,
- Though you should weep for aye.
- Weep on! be not ashamed of it,
- You’ll own in after years,
- That _you yourselves_, if not the world,
- Are better for your tears.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: _THE UNAPPRECIATIVE KITTEN._]
-
- “Did e’er you see a flow’r like that,
- So exquisitely pretty?”
- Said Mabel to her Kitty-cat;
- But not a word said Kitty.
-
- Perhaps it was in her delight
- Mabel contrived to squeeze her,
- For though Kit stared with all her might,
- The sunflow’r did not please her.
-
- “Well, well, why don’t you answer me?
- Why don’t you say it’s pretty?”
- But still she could or would not see,—
- She was perverse, was Kitty.
-
- “Sweet mistress, pray restrain your ire,”
- Said Kit in trepidation;
- “Why must I say that I admire,
- When I’ve no admiration?”
-
- “Don’t ask me that, you stupid cat,”
- Said Mabel in a passion;
- “You must, you shall admire,—because,
- Because it is the fashion!”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: _THE CAT’S SOLILOQUY._]
-
- An open cage, some feathers fair,
- Two little maidens crying,
- And Pussy seated on a chair,
- The mournful scene espying.
-
- Tear after tear rolls down each cheek,
- Sob after sob arises,
- While Puss, as well as she can speak,
- Calmly soliloquises!
-
- “If they would keep a bird in cage,
- They should not leave it undone;
- For that’s the tale in every jail
- From Panama to London.
-
- Their ducks and chicks they pet and feed,
- And yet I’ve often noted,
- They eat the very birds indeed
- To which they’re most devoted.
-
- Then wherefore look so cross and sour,
- Why make this sad commotion?
- Why should not I a bird devour
- For whom I’ve _no_ devotion!”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: _TOBY’S LESSON._]
-
- A was the Alphabet Toby must say,
- B was the Birch that made him obey,
- C was the Collar he wore to explain,
- D the Disgrace he had got in again,
- E was the Evening when Toby was gay,
- F was the Fate that befell him next day,
- G was the Grave look on Muriel’s face,
- H was the Hist’ry of Toby’s disgrace:—
- I was the Ink that he spilt on the floor,
- J was his Jump to get out of the door,
- K was the Kick that he got as he past,
- L was the Lesson—alas! not the last,
- M was the Milk that he stole from the cat,
- N was the Nap that he took after that,
- O was the Owl that gave him a fright,
- P was the Poaching he went for at night,
- Q was his Queer look all dirty and worn,
- R his Return somewhat early next morn,
- S was his Smile that would not avail,
- T was the Twitch of his terrified tail,
- U “Understand me” he tried to assert,
- V, his Vain effort his fate to avert,
- W, the Whip which he saw held on high,
- X, the Xpression that rose in his eye,
- Y was his Yap when at last the whip fell,
- Z (like his feelings) I’ll leave you to tell.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: _SELINA’S DESTINY._]
-
- Selina Sophonisba Ann
- Had a soul above a frying-pan,
- And, when her mother to cook began,
- She took to her heels and away she ran.
-
- Selina Sophonisba, she
- Stood all day long ’neath the apple tree,
- Till she became most dreadfull_ee_
- What is commonly callèd hungar_ee_!
-
- Selina Sophonisba Ann
- About her dinner to think began,
- But the voice of a little Fairy-man
- Said, “Don’t go back to the frying-pan,
-
- “Stay here beneath the apple tree,
- And you will find your destin_ee_,
- A prince is coming of high degree,
- Who will make you queen of his fair countr_ee_.”
-
- The prince came not: and the moments ran,
- And her thoughts to supper to turn began,
- So Selina Sophonisba Ann
- Went gladly back to the frying-pan.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: _THE OLD PICTURE-BOOK._]
-
- It was an old old picture-book,
- Full of the merriest tales
- Of mermaids fair with golden hair,
- And ships with silver sails;
- Of fairies light who danced at night,
- Of goblins on the stair,
- And many a knight in armour bright
- Who fought for ladies fair.
- It was only a battered picture-book,
- But ’twas worth its weight in gold,
- For it spoke to the children’s tender hearts,
- And its tales were never old.
-
- It is an old old picture-book,
- Battered, and torn, and brown;
- But why does the mother sit and sigh?
- Why do her tears run down?
- She listens through the long long eves,
- She waits for the opening door,
- But the little hands that turned the leaves
- Will turn them again no more.
- It is only a battered picture-book,
- But she cannot lay it by,
- For hearts may change, but a mother’s love
- Is a love that cannot die!
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: _THE LOBSTER AND THE MAID._]
-
- He was a gentle lobster,
- (The boats had just come in,)
- He did not love the fishermen,
- He could not stand their din;
- And so he quietly stole off,
- As if it were no sin.
-
- She was a little maiden,
- He met her on the sand,
- “And how d’you do?” the lobster said,
- “Why don’t you give your hand?”
- For why she edged away from him
- He _could_ not understand.
-
- “Excuse me, Sir,” the maiden said,
- “Excuse me, if you please,”
- And put her hands behind her back,
- And doubled up her knees,
- “I always thought that lobsters were
- A little apt to squeeze.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
- “Your ignorance,” the lobster said,
- “Is natural, I fear,
- Such scandal is a shame,” he sobbed,
- “It is not true, my dear!”
- And with his pocket-handkerchief
- He wiped away a tear.
-
- So out she put her little hand,
- As though she feared him not,
- When some one grabbed him suddenly
- And put him in a pot,
- With water which I think he found
- Uncomfortably hot.
-
- It may have been the water made
- The blood flow to his head,
- It may have been that dreadful fib
- Lay on his soul like lead:
- This much is true,—he went in gray,
- And came out very red.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: _NO THANK YOU, TOM._]
-
-
- They met, when they were girl and boy,
- Going to school one day,
- And, “Won’t you take my peg-top, dear?”
- Was all that he could say.
- She bit her little pinafore,
- Close to his side she came,
- She whispered “No! no, thank you Tom,”
- But took it all the same.
-
- They met one day the selfsame way,
- When ten swift years had flown;
- He said, “I’ve nothing but my heart,
- But that is yours alone.”
- “And won’t you take my heart?” he said,
- And called her by her name;
- She blushed and said “No, thank you, Tom,”
- But took it all the same.
-
- And twenty, thirty, forty years
- Have brought them care and joy,
- She has the little peg-top still
- He gave her when a boy.
- “I’ve had no wealth, sweet wife,” says he,
- “I’ve never brought you fame:”
- She whispers “No! no, thank you, Tom!
- You’ve loved me all the same!”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: _A BUNCH OF FLOWERS._]
-
- It was only a bunch of flow’rets wild,
- Gathered by children one morning fair;
- And it went away in the twilight gray
- To the mighty city’s din and glare.
- And the great grand flow’rs in the market smiled
- At the little bunch of flow’rets wild;
- And the crowding passers had but a care
- For the many flow’rs that were rich and rare.
-
- A mother stopt in the market place,
- She saw the flow’rets shining there,
- And she thought of her child, with his wan, thin face,
- Pining all day in the London square.
- She left those lordly, blazing flow’rs,
- She thought of her far-off childhood hours;
- She took that bunch of flow’rets wild—
- Her dearest gift to her crippled child.
-
- And she spoke to him of the thousand ones
- Who toiled in the city hour by hour,
- Who never had seen the country suns,
- And never had plucked a country flow’r,
- And a new light shone in his mournful eyes,
- He hushed his sad, complaining cries;
- For that little bunch of flow’rets wild
- Had changed the life of the crippled child.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: _THE CHILDREN’S SONG._]
-
- What is the song the children hear,
- O pealing bells, O Christmas bells,
- Echoing high and low,
- When skies are dark and winds are drear,
- What is the song the children hear
- Across the winter snow?
- _Christ is born_ (the joy-bells ring)
- _Christ is born to be your King,_
- _Christ has come from Heaven to bring_
- _Peace to earth below._
-
- What is the song the children sing,
- A carol sweet all hearts to greet,
- Good news for high and low?
- What is the news the children bring,
- What is the song the children sing
- As through the streets they go?
- _Christ is born_ (the children sing),
- _Christ is born to be our King,_
- _Christ has come from Heaven to bring_
- _Peace to earth below._
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: _A BOUGH OF HOLLY._]
-
- He sat on Christmas morn alone,
- No friend to bid him cheer;
- He missed them not, though all were gone,
- Who loved him yester-year.
- And gaily rang the Christmas bells,
- Their wondrous tale of old;
- He heard no meaning in their sound,
- He sate and hugged his gold.
-
- He watched the happy folks go by,
- He scowled to see them glad,
- And then a little maid drew nigh,
- A holly bough she had.
- She lifts her pleading face to him,
- She begs in accents wild:
- What is it makes his eyes grow dim?
- Why does he call the child?—
-
- He seems to see his mother’s face,
- Who died long years ago,
- And the holly bough he knelt to place
- Upon her grave of snow.
- He listened to the Christmas bells,
- He felt their meaning then:
- Peace upon earth, and in his heart
- Peace and good-will to men!
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: _THE END._]
-
-
- The old milestone is reached at last,
- And night will be upon us soon;
- The western light is changing fast,
- And slowly climbs the crescent moon.
-
- The path that we have trod erewhile
- Stretches behind us, growing gray,
- And here we stand beside the stile
- That ends our journey for to-day.
-
- Our twilight talks have gone so fast,
- Like all things glad, it so must be;
- The old milestone is reached at last,
- That means good-bye for you and me.
-
- But we will have no mournful chimes,
- Sweet children, no, we shall not part;
- For while you listen to my rhymes,
- You cannot ever leave my heart!
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
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