Then time flew on and the years sped by,
And still he sat, with expectant eye
And lengthening beard, for the maiden trim
Who'd promised to go to the play with him;
Until one night, as with palsied hand
He sat in the chair, for he couldn't stand,
And drummed in an aimless way, she came
And opened the door with her withered frame.
The moon's bright rays touched the silvered hair
Of her who had fifteen minutes to spare.
And then in tones that he strained to hear,
She spoke, and she said: "Are you ready, dear?"
Reprinted by permission of Life Publishing Company.
THE FOXES' TAILS
ANONYMOUS
Minister—Weel, Sandy, man; and how did ye like the sermon the day?