man000139 34

ass® Ufa mwM mm M w Q sw ?k &ss H i “ Som eiirae.^ Sometime, when all life’s lessons have been learned, - H IG H L A N D MARY. * * ? " * an^. s^ars forever more have set, Jy p banks and braes, and streams around m e thing's which our weak Judgment here } The castle o’ Montgomery, . has spumed, j Green be your woods, and fair your flow - The things o ’er which we grieved with la<«hA<a wAt I — ers’ , , . . . J Your waters never drumlie ! vrm . . - * . . . $There simmer first unfauld her robes. Will flash before us out of life’s dark night | And there the langest ta rry ; As stars shine most In deepest tints of j F or there I took the last farweel b lu e; I O’ my sweet Highland Mary. And we shall see how all G od s plans are jiHow sweetly bloom’d the gay green birk, ngnt, I How rich the hawthorn’s blossom, And how what seemed reproof was love |As, underneath their fragrant shade, most true. If I clasp’d her to my bosom ! jThe golden hours, on angel wings, And we shall see how, while we frown and {IILF oFr ledwea r° 'etro mmee aansd limghvt daenadr ileif;e . , _ I Was my sweet Highland Mary! God s plan goes on as best for you and jiiWi’ mony a vow, and lock’d embrace, Our parting was fu’ tender; And, pledging aft to meet again. W e tore oursels asunder; But, oh, fell death’s untimely frost, That nipp’d my flow er sae e a rly ! L oreau, I The years creep slowly by, Lorens, The snow Is on the grass again, , Tl*e sun’s low down the sky, Lorena; | J he frost gleams where the flowers have bee I But the heart beats on as warmly now I As when the summer clays were nigh; jOh I the sun can never dip so low A down affection's cloudless sky! SENT LINCOLN’S SAD NOTE. m e ; , tlow , when we called H e heeded not our cry Because His wisdom to the end could see. So, even as wise parents disallow - Too much of sweets to craving babyhood, So God, perhaps, Is keeping from us now L ife’s sweetest tilings because It seemetli good. N o w green’s the sod and cauld’s the clay. That wraps my Highland M a r y ! n. |A hundred months have passed, Lorena, Since last I held that band in mine, [And felt the pulse beat fast, Lorena, Though mine beat faster far than thine; |A hundred months—’twas flow'ry May When up the hilly slope we climbed To watch the dying of the day And hear the distant church bells chime. We loved each other then, Lorena, More than we ever dared to tell, And what we might have been. Lorena, Had but our loving prospered well. £ut then, ’ tls past, the years are gone; I’ll not call up their shadow; forms. 11 say to them, “ Lost years, sleep on! Sleep on! Nor heed life’s pelting storms.*1 And If sometimes commingled with life's wine W e find the wormwood and rebel and shrink. Be sure* a wiser hand than yours o r mine J Pours out tills potion for our lips to j drink. And if some one you love is lying low W here human kisses cannot reach his face, O h! do not blam e the loving Father bo, Oh, pale, pale now those rosy lips I aft ha’e kiss’d sae fon d ly! And closed for aye the sparkling glance That dwalt on me sae kindly! And moldering now in silent dust. That heart that lo’ed me dearly ; But still within my bosom’s core . Shall live my Highland M a ry! —Robert Burns ‘he story of the past, Lorena, Alas! 1 care not to repeat, be hopes that could not last, Lorena, They lived, but only lived to cheat, would not cause e’en one regret To rankle in your bosom now, 5 For “ if we try we may forget,” , Were words of thine long years ago. But wear your sorrow with obedient grace. | And you shall shortly see that lengthened j breath | Is not the sweetest gift G od-sends his | friend, And that sometimes the sable pall o f death j Conceals the fairest boon His love c a n 1 send. If we could push aside the gates o f life ? "Stand, within, and all God’s work­ings see/ W e could interpret all this doubt and strife, And for each m ystery could find a key. ihese were words of thine, Lorena; They burn within my memory yet; They touch some tender chords, Lorena, „ Which thrill and tremble with regret! Tmuhfy8 ;hoeta r*t* *w* aws oamlwana’y8s hterauret ttoh amt e.spoke- A duty stern and pressing broke The tie that linked my soul with thee. It matters little now, Lorena, The past is in th’ eternal past. Our hearts will soon lie low, Lorena; Life g tide is ebbing out so fast. There Is a Future, O thank God this is *° 8m*ll a part! » J © t0 dU8t beneath the sod, But There—up There—’tis heart to heart! -Henry D. L. Webster': But not to d a y ; then be content, sad heart, God’s plans, like lilies, pure and white unfold, W e must not tear the close shut leaves apart, Time will reveal the calyxes o f gold. And if through patient toil' we reach the land W here tired feet with sandals loose may rer?t, When we shall clearly see and understand I think that we shall say, “God knows the bss c.’iu ^ S i Wm-.. 1 WZWmiZm ‘W llio n and Daniels Condole K in of Men W h o Fell at Vera Crux. W a s h i n g t o n , April 22.— Letters ex­pressing the profound sorrow of Presi­dent Wilson and Secretary Daniels at the death of the four sailors and ma~ I rines at Vera Cruz yesterday were* dis­patched today by the Secretary of the Navy to the parents of the men. The letters were addressed to William Poinsett of Philadelphia, Mrs. McKinnon of Brooklyn, mother of Coxswain Schu­macher; Mayer Marten of Chicago and Michael Haggerty of Cambridge, Mass. Mr. Daniels wrote to each: This m orning’s dispatches from V era Cruz conveying the distressing news that your son was in the first line to give his life for his country saddens all Am erica as the tragedy brings glooiri into your home. M y feeling and the feeling o f thd President to you in. this sad hour wa^ expressed b y President Lincoln whenj on N ovem ber 21, 1864, he w rote tojt Mrs. B lxby o f Boston, whose five son^\\ gave their lives fighting under t h e y Am erican flag: “ I feel how Weak and fruitless must be any w ords o f mine which should attempt to beguile you from a loss so overwhelming. But I cannot refrain from tendering tp you the consolation that m ay be found in the thanks o f the Republic they died to save. I pray that o u r . Heavenly Father m ay assuage the anguish o f your bereavem ent and leave you only the cherished m em ory o f the loved and lost and the solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar o f freedom .” 0nU T T P? S i PMW I A utumn Frag | The leaves are dying II veins. The grasses are tv y blood o f life make them gr T he decay and death of fragrance the charm of t lands and the fields this u form er forest and field I long ago. The swiftly flying toxicated with the ozone o f , spring she had the cares an 1 eL s -w h ile now with man: how to look out for therose The last of the flower: golden autumn sun while t all the hooks and crevices ; | the fragrance of thc,r 1 kin vine and the yell<w-T morning glories and the result. rn $ o y 0 V € •X ^^o r M ilr £