They loved to read of men who stood
And gave for country, life and blood,
Who held their faith so dear a thing
They scorned to yield it to a king;
Ah! proud of such they well might be—
For he was Scotch, and so was she.
From neighbor’s broil they kept away—
No liking for such things had they,
And O, each had a cannie mind!
Each could be deaf, and dumb, and blind;
Of words—nor pence—were none too free—
For he was Scotch, and so was she.
I would not have you think this pair
Went on in weather always fair,
For well you know in married life
Will come, sometimes, the jar and strife;
They couldn’t always just agree—
For he was Scotch, and so was she.
But near of heart they ever kept,
Until at close of life they slept,
Just this to say when all was past—
They loved each other to the last,
They’re loving yet in heaven, maybe—
For he was Scotch, and so was she.
The Legend of Love
THERE’S a cup on the very topmost shelf
Of the cupboard built in the wall,
On one side a vine is traced on the delf
With forget-me-nots blue and small;
On the other the words stand boldly up
That were once a pride and a joy,
For a legend it bears, this old-fashioned cup,
Which runs, “For a good little boy!”
’Twas bought by a mother with eyes as blue
As forget-me-nots pretty and shy,
When youth was her portion, and love was true,
And the days went merrily by.
On the cottage floor where the sunbeams crept,
Played her own sturdy lad of three,
And but yesterday he smiled and he slept
Such a pretty babe on her knee.
He followed her down to the garden gate
On her way to the little town,
“Now hurry right back, and don’t you be late,”
He said with a pout and a frown.
He must have some toys for the Christmas-tide,
So she bought him a tiny sled,
And a nice little box of sweets beside
To go into his mouth so red.