I've been a boy myself,
And with boys I play,
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Do you know that this is Christmas,
And this little book is sent
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Would that I were an artist
And while I stand in time
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A mother stood at the river brink
Holding in her arms a dear child,
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Ajax went over to Nashville,
To attend the great centennial;
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Ajax, in the stillness of the night,
Lie down and take thy rest;
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I have tried to be contented
In this land of vale and tears,
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Ajax went out to vote
On election day;
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My country, noble spectre of the past;
Along thy rivers, and within thy vales,
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I was once out of social circles,
As bashful as a young man could be;
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My friends, our race is ostracised,
Long standing tears are in our eyes,
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DRAMATIS PERSONÆ:
* Eli.
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Ajax of the Southland
Was walking out one day,
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There's a dreadful horror 'bout me,
That nothing drives away;
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The thoughts of the future doth puzzle my mind,
And O'how I shudder at flitting of time;
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If I should die
Today or tomorrow,
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When in the shadow of the tomb,
My heart shall rest,
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I dreamed I was with the lynchers,
And in their arms I lay,
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Riches, which once I held in light esteem,
And inspired me—now I laugh to scorn;
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(Tune: "Tenting on the Old Camp Ground.")
We are thinking today of the loved ones lost,
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Over the hills and dales, Jesus, that I strolled in the long ago,
I am wandering once again my Lord, where dame nature's teaching glow;
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I never see the burial place,
Where my dear mother lies;
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What is the best thing in the world?
This question to a crowd was hurled.
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He has gone forth in the light of light,
Out of the long watch and the heavy night,
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"To thine ownself be true,
And it must follow as the night the day,
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Isn't it noble children dear,
To have a mother's voice to hear,
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"Little Children Love One Another."
—Bible.
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Children, when you read that sweet story of old,
When Jesus was here among men,
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Sometimes we kiss for passion's sake,
Sometimes we kiss through love;
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To A. R.
The struggles you have made in school,
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