MEMORY OF W. W. BROWN.
———
Dear father Brown, the great, the good,
The noble leader of our race;
With task complete his spirit fled,
To heaven, its final resting place,
And there in peace it shall remain,
Securely wrapped from care and pain;
His body ’neath sweet roses sleeps,
An angel o’er him vigil keeps.
Weeping for one so dearly loved,
Too soon it seems we had to part;
To see him hid beneath the clay,
Sharp sorrow fills the aching heart,
It seems I see him on the stand,
Fain I could hear him give command;
And with his outstretched, loving arm,
Imploring people to reform.
Think of the great work he has done,
Behold the great reformer’s hand;
Ten thousand marching to and fro,
To seek, to help, to lend a hand,
Thy life has not been spent in vain,
Thy deeds are monuments of fame;
Thy name from earth will ne’er depart,
’Tis graved with kindness on the heart.
No more to meet us here on earth,
The noble impulse thou hast given;
Will urge us on the mighty course,
Until we, too, are called to heaven.
Beneath the clods is it the last,
Oh, no, the memory of the past;
As Bethlehem star the wise men led,
His light will lead us though he is dead.
WHEN DE SUN SHINES HOT.
———
No, dere ain’t no use er workin’ in de blazin’ summertime,
Whin de fruit hab filled de orchard, an’ de burries bend de vine;
Der’s enuf ter keep us libin’ in de little gyarden spot,
An’ der aint no use’n workin’ w’en de sun shines hot.