This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1913 Excerpt: ...this strain Whispering and coaxing came to him o'er and o'er: I've an empty bower on yonder hill, With windows wide and door ajar, Awaiting a songster from afar; It is furnished fit for any queen; About it the flowers play hide and seek As they trip the loitering laughing breeze, Which scampers among the fruit-laden ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1913 Excerpt: ...this strain Whispering and coaxing came to him o'er and o'er: I've an empty bower on yonder hill, With windows wide and door ajar, Awaiting a songster from afar; It is furnished fit for any queen; About it the flowers play hide and seek As they trip the loitering laughing breeze, Which scampers among the fruit-laden trees; At the foot of the hill, a brook with its song Goes threading the grain-laden fields along. Jean: Father, I have wondered many times What your aged father said when you went out To fight for the old flag we love so much; I wonder what your mother did the night Before you left, and at the morning meal? And then the old man's nerves grew tense, his eyes Assumed their youthful luster, and a thrill Shot through his being as the warrior said: Father: Jean, those were stirring times! The land was all Aflame! The flag had been insulted, and The bugle, the drum and fife, made the blood boil. But it was sad, for every fireside mourned Its vacant chair; and many, more than one. And as the news came northward, telling of the rage Of the bitterest warfare, its killed and missing, many A mother's son, 'twas learned, had bit the dust. Jean: But Father, what did your old father say, And your old mother? The warrior's eyes Grew dim, as through the mists of fifty years, He raised the curtain on a sacred scene, His lips would not disclose; but this is what The dream of fifty years brought back to him: He had enlisted, had come home at night Unheard, had stolen to his attic chamber, Had selected a few of his most cherished treasures, Had tiptoed to his mother's side; had pressed A silent kiss on her half-parted lips. A moonbeam lay across her pale white face; For she was dreaming in the silent night That the death angel crossed her threshold, took Her only ...
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