Poems Teachers Ask For Volume I Part 14

Oh, ye with banner and battle shot, And soldiers to shout and praises I tell you the kingliest victories fought Were fought in those silent ways.

Oh, spotless in a world of shame, With splendid and silent scorn, Go back to G.o.d as white as you came-- The kingliest warrior born!

_Joaquin Miller._

Plain Bob and a Job

Bob went lookin' for a job-- Didn't want a situation; didn't ask a lofty station: Didn't have a special mission for a topnotcher's position; Didn't have such fine credentials--but he had the real essentials-- Had a head that kept on workin' and two hands that were not s.h.i.+rkin'; Wasn't either s.h.i.+rk or sn.o.b; Wasn't Mister--just plain Bob, Who was lookin' for a job.

Bob went lookin' for a job; And he wasn't scared or daunted when he saw a sign--"Men Wanted,"

Walked right in with manner fittin' up to where the Boss was sittin', And he said: "My name is Bob, and I'm lookin' for a job; And if you're the Boss that hires 'em, starts 'em working and that fires 'em, Put my name right down here, Neighbor, as a candidate for labor; For my name is just plain 'Bob, And my pulses sort o' throb For that thing they call a job."

Bob kept askin' for a job, And the Boss, he says: "What kind?" And Bob answered: "Never mind; For I am not a bit partic'ler and I never was a stickler For proprieties in workin'--if you got some labor lurkin'

Anywhere around about kindly go and trot it out.

It's, a job I want, you see-- Any kind that there may be Will be good enough for me."

Well, sir, Bob he got a job.

But the Boss went 'round all day in a dreamy sort of way; And he says to me: "By thunder, we have got the world's Eighth Wonder!

Got a feller name of Bob who just asked me for a job-- Never asks when he engages about overtime in wages; Never asked if he'd get pay by the hour or by the day; Never asked me if it's airy work and light and sanitary; Never asked me for my notion of the chances of promotion; Never asked for the duration of his annual vacation; Never asked for Sat.u.r.day half-a-holiday with pay; Never took me on probation till he tried the situation; Never asked me if it's sittin' work or standin', or befittin'

Of his birth and inclination--he just filed his application, Hung his coat up on a k.n.o.b, Said his name was just plain Bob-- And went workin' at a job!"

_James W. Foley._

Aunt Tabitha

Whatever I do and whatever I say, Aunt Tabitha tells me it isn't the way When _she_ was a girl (forty summers ago); Aunt Tabitha tells me they never did so.

Dear aunt! If I only would take her advice!

But I like my own way, and I find it _so_ nice!

And besides, I forget half the things I am told; But they all will come back to me--when I am old.

If a youth pa.s.ses by, it may happen, no doubt, He may chance to look in as I chance to look out; _She_ would never endure an impertinent stare-- It is _horrid_, she says, and I mustn't sit there.

A walk in the moonlight has pleasures, I own, But it isn't quite safe to be walking alone; So I take a lad's arm--just for safety you know-- But Aunt Tabitha tells me _they_ didn't do so.

How wicked we are, and how good they were then!

They kept at arm's length those detestable men; What an era of virtue she lived in!--But stay-- Were the _men_ all such rogues in Aunt Tabitha's day?

If the men _were_ so wicked, I'll ask my papa How he dared to propose to my darling mamma; Was he like the rest of them? Goodness! Who knows?

And what shall _I_ say, if a wretch should propose?

I am thinking if aunt knew so little of sin, What a wonder Aunt Tabitha's aunt must have been!

And her grand-aunt--it scares me--how shockingly sad That we girls of to-day are so frightfully bad!

A martyr will save us, and nothing else can, Let _me perish_--to rescue some wretched young man!

Though when to the altar a victim I go, Aunt Tabitha'll tell me _she_ never did so!

The Flag Goes By

Hats off!

Along the street there comes A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums, A flash of color beneath the sky: Hats off!

The flag is pa.s.sing by!

Blue and crimson and white it s.h.i.+nes, Over the steel-tipped, ordered lines.

Hats off!

The colors before us fly; But more than the flag is pa.s.sing by.

Sea-fights and land-fights, grim and great, Fought to make and to save the State; Weary marches and sinking s.h.i.+ps; Cheers of victory on dying lips;

Days of plenty and years of peace, March of a strong land's swift increase: Equal justice, right and law, Stately honor and reverent awe;

Sign of a nation, great and strong, To ward her people from foreign wrong; Pride and glory and honor, all Live in the colors to stand or fall.

Hats off!

Along the street there comes A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums, And loyal hearts are beating high: Hats off!

The flag is pa.s.sing by!

_H.H. Bennett._

The Rivers of France

The rivers of France are ten score and twain, But five are the names that we know: The Marne, the Vesle, the Oureq and the Aisne, And the Somme of the swampy flow.

The rivers of France, from source to sea, Are nourished by many a rill, But these five, if ever a drouth there be The fountains of sorrow would fill.

The rivers of France s.h.i.+ne silver white, But the waters of five are red With the richest blood, in the fiercest fight For freedom that ever was shed.

The rivers of France sing soft as they run, But five have a song of their own, That hymns the fall of the arrogant one And the proud cast down from his throne.

The rivers of France all quietly take To sleep in the house of their birth, But the carnadined wave of five shall break On the uttermost strands of earth.

Five rivers of France--see! their names are writ On a banner of crimson and gold, And the glory of those who fas.h.i.+oned it Shall nevermore cease to be told.

_H.J.M., in London "Times."_