WHAT THE BELLS SAID

One Sabbath morn in lovely June,
The old church bells rang out a tune.
Unto the world they seemed to say:
"This is our little children's day.
"Now will you listen to our call,
And come to hear the children small?
"Their songs in voices, sweet and clear,
Unto their Maker you shall hear.
"Their smiling faces are a sight,
That turns all darkness into light.
"Their little speeches are so nice,
That you should hear at any price.
"Their little songs in chorus sound
As though there were no evil 'round.
"Their prayers so humble, sweet, and pure,
Will make you feel that heaven's sure.
"Then come you people, one and all,
And learn the ways of children small.
"And live again those childish days,
Before you learned the worldly ways.
"'Twill bring you back those youthful joys,
Of winsome girls and manly boys.
"'Twill give your soul an upward flight,
And bring your heaven just in sight."
And then the bells rang off their tune,
That lovely Sabbath morn in June.
To listen while the songs of love
Went to the Maker up above;
And listen while a childish prayer,
Was breathed upon the holy air.

WHY?

I often sit and wonder why
It is not always day,
And why the sunshine and the light
Cannot forever stay.
I often sit and wonder why
The birdies are so wild,
And what does make them fly away
From every little child.
And why they always like to sing,
And never like us talk,
And why they always like to fly,
And never like us walk.
Sometimes I sit and wonder too,
About my pussy cats,
Just why they did not have some wings
Like ugly little bats.
My dolly is a mystery too,
And so I wonder why,
When I am washing dolly's face,
She does not pout and cry.
And then it never seemed quite right
To have the world turn round;
It seems so strange we do not fall
Or tumble off the ground.
There are so many other things
That don't look right to me;
I sometimes really don't believe
They're as they ought to be.

BECAUSE