"Do you think I don't know it has no business there?" said the judge. "But I couldn't get it to rhyme, so I was obliged to put in something. It is not bad for an old fellow who never made two lines rhyme before in his life. Come then, Frank, pass up yours."
"To read a page from Nature's book,
In this deep solitude,
Uplifts the heart in purer aims,
And leads us nearer God."
"True, Frank," said the judge solemnly. "You have beaten me hollow anyway.—Now, Carrie."
"Mine is very poor indeed, Judge Keane," said Carrie, as she passed up her slip. "Like yours it is my first attempt."
"The beauty of the hills,
So calm, so free, so bright,
Can dim my eyes with tears,
And fill me with delight."
"Very good" was the verdict; and then Miss Keane reluctantly gave up her paper.
"How still it is! No rude discord
Falls on the ear;
We feel all earthly thoughts and aims
Must vanish here."
That also was pronounced "very good," and Judge Keane feared he should have some difficulty in adjudicating the prize. Mr. George Keane's was the next.
"I never wrote a poem, but since
You will not be refused,
I do declare I don't know how,
And beg to be excused."
"You have no chance anyway, George," said his father, laughing with the rest. "It has not the remotest reference to the subject in hand.—Well, Lucy."