Though now you mourn, who stay behind,
How sad 'twould be to leave, and find
Upon that distant other shore
No loved one who had gone before—
The gates of Heaven to enter through
With no one there to welcome you.
As now, when some long journey ends
And we're received by smiling friends
Who've watched and waited for our train,
So shall they welcome us again;
The young, the beautiful and fair
Will all be waiting for us there.
Visitors
We've had a lot of visitors, it seems, for weeks an' weeks,
And Pa is gettin' all run down. Ma says that when he speaks
He isn't civil any more. He mopes around the place
And always seems to wear a look of sadness on his face.
And yesterday he said to Ma when she began to fuss:
"I wonder when they're going to quit an' leave the home to us.
"It's nice to have your people come, but some of them should go;
Instead of that they're sticking here like bull dogs at a show.
'The more the merrier,' they shout, as other ones drop in.
I'm getting so I cannot stand to see your cousins grin
And, what is more, I'm getting tired of driving folks about
And mighty tired of visitors who must be taken out.
"Night after night when I've come home I've hauled them near and far,
You'd think I was the driver of a town sight-seeing car.
I've hauled them up to factories and monuments and parks,
Museums and aquariums; I've shown 'em seals and sharks
And bears and wolves and elephants; and now I want to quit.
I know they'd do the same for me, but I am sick of it.
"I wouldn't say a word at all about your folks, I know
They're just as nice as they can be, but still I wish they'd go.
I'm tired of all the buzz and talk, the tales of those who've died;
I'm tired of seeing all our chairs forever occupied."
"And I am tired myself," said Ma, "as tired as I can be,
You're only on the job at night, but it's all day long for me."
When Father Broke His Arm