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Der Oak Und der Vine

BY CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS.

I don'd vas preaching voman's righdts,
Or anything like dot,

Und I likes to see all beoples

Shust gondented mit dheir lot;
Budt I vants to gondradict dot shap
Dot make dis leedle shoke;
"A voman vas der glinging vine,
Und man, der shturdy oak."

Berhaps, somedimes, dot may be drue;
Budt, den dimes oudt off nine,
I find me oudt dot man himself
Vas peen der glinging vine;

Und ven hees friendts dhey all vas gone,
Und he vas shust "tead proke,"
Dot's ven der voman shteps righdt in,
Und peen der shturdy oak.

Shust go oup to der paseball groundts
Und see dhose "shturdy oaks"
All planted roundt ubon der seats-
Shust hear dheir laughs and shokes!
Dhen see dhose vomens at der tubs,
Mit glothes oudt on der lines;
Vhich vas der shturdy oaks, mine friendts,
Und vhich der glinging vines?

When Sickness in der householdt comes,
Und veeks and veeks he shtays,
Who vas it fighdts him mitoudt resdt,
Dhose veary nighdts and days?
Who beace und gomfort alvays prings,
Und cools dot fefered prow?

More like id vas der tender vine
Dot oak he glings to, now.

"Man vants budt leedle here below,"
Der boet von time said;

Dhere's leedle dot man he don'd vant,
I dink id means, inshted;

Und ven der years keep rolling on,
Dheir cares und droubles pringing,
He vants to pe der shturdy oak,
Und, also, do der glinging.

Maype, vhen oaks dhey gling some more,
Und don't so shturdy peen,

Der glinging vines dhey haf some shance
To helb run Life's masheen.
In helt und sickness, shoy und pain,
In calm or shtormy veddher,
'Twas beddher dot dhose oaks und vines
Should alvays gling togeddher.

One Li'l' Lamb

BY MARTHA YOUNG.

I'm a little sheep mos' too black to see,
So de hire-man-shepperd can't never find me
When I'm wrop around wid de dark er de night,
And de odder sheep shine in de dusk so white-
So he gadder dem all safe inter de fol',
And leave me a-trimblein' out in de col'.

Coo-ee!
Sheep-ee!

Folks say dar's one black sheep in every flock,
But dat hire-man-shepperd don't hear me knock;
Hit seem lak he'd ruther his sheep be all white
When he shut 'em all up safe and sound at night—
He count dat he got in de half and de whole,
When he shut-to de door of de warm sheep-fol'.
Coo-ee!
Sheep-ee!

But de Master come singin' a-down dat way
To see ef His sheep airy one gone astray;

And He say, "I wants nairy one los', you know."
But de hire-man-shepperd he don't sesso-

He pull his forelock and he speak out right bol': "Yas, sah, Massa, de good uns is all in de fol","

Coo-ee!
Sheep-ee!

Des a little black sheep am me!

Den de Master look all around, and he say,
"I'm missin' of one"-He speak des dat-a-way.
Den out on de mountain all col' and so dark,
He go callin' dis-a-way: "Sheep-oo- Ah, hark!"
He finds and he ketches me wid a firm hol',

And dar's sholy one little Black Lamb in de fol'!

Coo-ee!
Sheep-ee!

And Mammy's little Black Lamb am he!

Dot Baby of Mine

BY CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS.

Mine cracious! Mine cracious! shust look here and see

A Deutscher so habby as habby can pe.

Der beoples all dink dat no prains I haf got,

Vas grazy mit trinking, or someding like dot;
Id vasn't pecause I trinks lager and vine,
Id vas all on aggount of dot baby off mine.

Dot schmall leedle vellow I dells you vas qveer;
Not mooch pigger 'round as a goot glass off beer,
Mit a barefooted hed, and nose but a schpeck,
A mout dot goes most to der pack of his neck,
Und his leedle pink toes mid der rest all combine
To gife sooch a charm to dot baby off mine.

I dells you dot baby vas von off der poys,
Und beats little Yawcob for making a noise;
He shust had pegun to shbeak goot English, too,

Says, "Mamma," und "Bapa," und sometimes, "Ah-goo!"
You don't find a baby den dimes oudt off nine
Dot vas qvite so schmart as dot baby off mine.

He grawis der vloor over, and drows dings aboudt,
Und puts efryding he can find in his mout;

He tumbles der sthairs down, und falls vrom his chair,
Und gifes mine Katrina von derrible shcare.

Mine hair stands like shquills on a mat borcupine
Ven I dink of dose pranks off dot baby off mine.

Der vas someding, you pet, I don't likes pooty vell;
To hear in der nighdt-dimes dot young Deutscher yell,
Und dravel der ped-room midout many clo'es,

Vhile der chills down der shpine off mine pack quickly

goes.

Dose leedle shimnasdic dricks vasn't so fine

Dot I cuts oop at nighdt mit dot baby off mine.

Vell, dese leedle schafers vos goin' to pe men,
Und all off dese droubles vill peen ofer den;
Dey vill vear a vhite shirt-vront inshted of a bib,
Und vouldn't got tucked oop at nighdt in deir crib.
Vell! vell! ven I'm feeple und in life's decline,
May mine oldt age pe cheered by dot baby off mine.

Fate

BY SUSAN MARR SPALDING.

Two shall be born, the whole wide world apart,
And speak in different tongues and have no thought
Each of the other's being, and no heed.

And these, o'er unknown seas to unknown lands
Shall cross, escaping wreck, defying death;
And all unconsciously shape every act

And bend each wandering step to this one end-
That, one day, out of darkness they shall meet
And read life's meaning in each other's eyes.

And two shall walk some narrow way of life
So nearly side by side, that should one turn
Ever so little space to left or right,

They needs must stand acknowledged, face to face,

And, yet, with wistful eyes that never meet,
And groping hands that never clasp, and lips
Calling in vain to ears that never hear,
They seek each other all their weary days
And die unsatisfied-and this is Fate!

A Dream of Past Christmases

BY F. A. SECORDIN.

Last night I sat by the old fireplace,
And I saw in the embers' glow
A toddling form and a laughing face
That I knew in the long ago,

I thought I heard at the side of my chair
A voice that I used to hear,

Repeating the words of an evening prayer
Timidly, low and clear.

And I thought I heard the good-night word
From the toddling form in white;

I knew that I dreamed, but, oh, it seemed
So real in the flickering light.

I thought I saw in the corner dim
Last night, as I used to see,

A tiny sock that was hung by him
On Christmas eve with glee,

That the children's saint might see it there
And know that a little boy

Had gone to bed with an earnest prayer
For the morrow's Christmas joy.

But I heard no beat of pattering feet,
As I did in bygone years;

I knew I but dreamed, and oh, it seemed
That my heart would drown in tears.

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