I’d sing of sturdy farm lads about their daily toil, The brightly gleaming ploughshare as it turns the mellow soil, The wealth of golden harvests that in barns and stacks is stored, And the fruitage of the orchard, brown October’s precious hoard.
I’d sing the fall of twilight as tho sun sinks in the west, Tho hour when tired mothers lull their sleepy babes to rest; The bliss of fond young lovers under evening skies in June, And tho sweet and foolish nothings said bo neatk the yellow moon.
Tho joys of careless childhood and the pain» and griefs of age, Tho histories and mysteries that fill life’s storiod page, The days all glad with sunshine and tho hours of doubt and gloom Through which we all must journoy from the cradle to the tomb.
Let others sing of chivalry and deeds of days of old, Of battles grand by sea and land, of knights and warriors bold ; The lowly rhymes of present times aro doaror far to mo, And I hold those songs are sweeter for thoir simpler melody.
MARRIAGE-MODERN AND IDEAL.
By Norah Hanrahan. Just a contract, light but legal, And clastic in its use, Giving each a separate pathway Without hindrance or abuso ; Too indifferent to quarrel, Too well-bred to nag and scold— Cold, and selfish, and forbidding Is the creed of life they hold. Thus they go, apart; and careless Of such things as wedded bliss : And it happens, all too often. Modern marriage is like this.
