Even the ragman on his alley round
Knew, by the symbols fluttering on that line,
That there a little baby would be found,
And day by day he saw that glorious sign.
Then boyhood came and called our babe away,
Muscled him strong and turned his cheeks to brown,
Gave him the strength to run and romp and play,
And then she took the little clothes line down.
To-day I sat beside her bed, and she
Smiled the sweet smile of motherhood once more.
"When I get up again," she said to me,
"I'll want a little clothes line by the door."
The Ballad of the Indifferent Whist Player
I am not much at the game,
Careless the things that I do;
Those whose approval I claim
When I attempt it, are few;
Bridge players look in dismay
After a hand I have played,
Always they icily say:
"Why did you lead me a spade?"
I, who am gentle and tame,
Am scorned by a merciless crew;
I bear the brunt and the blame
Whenever they mutter, "Down two!"
No matter what card I may play,
No matter that whist's not my trade,
Always they sneeringly say:
"Why did you lead me a spade?"
Matron, young maiden or dame,
Brown eyes or gray eyes or blue,
Angrily treat me the same
Recalling the cards that I drew.
Be it December or May,
Ever she starts this tirade
With a look that's intended to slay:
"Why did you lead me a spade?"
L'Envoi
Prince, when my soul flies away
And my form in the cold ground is laid,
Let me rest where nobody will say:
"Why did you lead me a spade?"