FROST FIRES
Look! look! look!
The woods are all afire!
See! see! see!
Aflame are bush and brier!
The trees are all unhurt, I know—
Oak, maple, elm and all—
But, oh, they all seem burning up
In red fires of the fall!
WHISTLING IN THE RAIN
Whistle, whistle, up the road,
And whistle, whistle down the lane!
That's the laddie takes my heart,
A-whistling in the rain.
Winter wind may whistle too—
That's a comrade gay!
Naught that any wind can do
Drives his cheer away.
Whistle, whistle, sun or storm;
And whistle, whistle, warm or cold!
Underneath his ragged coat
There beats a heart of gold.
He will keep a courage high,
Bear the battle's brunt;
Let the coward whine and cry!—
His the soldier's front.
Shoes, I know, are out at toe,
And rags and patches at the knee;
He whistles still his merry tune,
For not a fig cares he.
Whistle, whistle, up the road,
Whistle, whistle, down the lane!
That's the laddie for my love,
Whistling in the rain.
