By Jimmy Hatlo
POET'S
CORNER
A VERY DEAR SPOT
.May God bless this dear spot.
Where Mom and Dad are lying;
They seem so lonely and alone
That is why my eyes are crying.
Stars look down on their graves.
Sunday, July 14. 1963 Page 4
HentU ai3fto$ ; They'll Do It Every Time
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rn. UPPPVnU 1 CAM TMF. ) I SORT OF J UNDER.. llll II I 'L '5.VENXPt:'?i. P6 f ... . '"' ' '' X If NOW. IN MY MffTOPC YEAHS. 1 AN EflPLVl I IN TUB OLD 3VS. PSCHAPsI HUT
1 can see their names on a stone;
I pray that they are with Him,
Our Master, on His throne.
Humbly they followed in His
steps,
Ever remembering that fatal
day;
When they will go lo their Eter
nal Home.
In that land, so far away.
As they sleep side by side,
As the months and years go by;
A Century is but a moment,
In Eternity in the sky.
In my house there are many
mansions,
And I pray one, they have se
cured; Their reward for following Him
And the sorrows they have en
dured. Let us now ask them they can
hear
Wherever the Angels sing;
And pray that they will remember
To ask God to be remembering.
CJH
'NEATH THE OLD OAK TREE
I wandered down the lane
dear.
The one e used to tread;
Naught is left but memories,
since
You are numbered w ith the dead.
I lingered 'neath the oak my
oear,
But my tears begin to flow:
There you promised to be my
wife
I said "I love you so."
But now you have left me dear,
And I am lonely and alone;
My heart is broken forever
Since you 'have gone Home.
I saw the blossoms by the road,
A cardinal begin to sing;
I lingered by the oak dear
I gave to you my ring.
You are ever in my mind,
It matters not where I go;
Every little whisnerina breeze
Says "Darling, 1 love you so."
Now that you have gone away,
How desolate is my heart;
In memory I hold you tight,
'Tis then the tears start.
CJH
ML'SIC
Where are the rollicking bands
I heard in childhood davs?
They were leading every parade
i-eopie expectefl no other way.
Has time changed so swiftly
That music is seldom heard?
Even in most of nur hnmes
This part is just for the birds.
Years ago social Catherines
Were incomplete without a song.
vvinie someone chorded the organ
The fiddle screeched along.
Has TV replaced all of this?
Must we all change our life too
Sitting tense and staring
Till each program is through?
The future I cannot predict
I must only live day by day.
Yet I hope old-fashioned music
Is just taking a holiday.
Jennie Charles
SONGS OF PRAISE
"Lord, I'll serve thee every day
In such a lovely, charming way
I'll be a (lower with sweet per
fume
To wreathe your path or grace
your room!
Or else, I'll be a bird to sing
Wi'.h silver flute, on scarlet
wing!
Unnoticed tasks are not for me
A flame of glory, I will be;
I will cling close to your side.
And you will be the glorified!"
With beauty both of bird and
lower.
Shj charmed them through the
sacred hour;
Clad in cowl oh scarlet dress.
She sang of truth and holi
ness !
Another came with contrite heart
To ask if he might have a part
ITo sort the trash, or sweep the
oust.
Or build the fires, or scour the
rust.
I0r see that classes start on time,
Or serve, perhaps, in other
clime
I A vessel honored or disdained.
Of prominence, or else restrained.
hSeeking neither praise nor place.
Lontent to jhare the fruits of
grace.
This one in his quiet way
went about from dav tn du
Helping others do their best;
His song-the love within his
breast !
Eleanor Harvey
t