way,--
"Well, it's _got_ to be. Good-by!"

The time jes melts like a late, last snow,--
When it's _got_ to be, it melts!
But I aim to keep a cheerful mind,
Ef I can't keep nothin' else!
I knowed, when I come to twenty-one,
That I'd soon be twenty-two,--
So I waved one hand at the soft young man,
And I said, "Good-by to _you_!"

It's _got_ to be, and it's _goin'_ to be!
So at least I always try
To kind o' say, in a cheerful way,--
"Well, it's _got_ to be.--Good-by!"

They kep' a-goin', the years and years,
Yet still I smiled and smiled,--
For I'd said "Good-by" to my single life,
And I now had a wife and child:
Mother and son and the father--one,--
Till, last, on her bed of pain,
She jes' smiled up, like she always done,--
And I said "Good-by" again.

It's _got_ to be, and it's _goin'_ to be!
So at least I always try
To kind o' say, in a humble way,--
"Well, it's _got_ to be. Good-by!"

[Illustration]

And then my boy--as he growed to be
Almost a man in size,--
Was more than a pride and joy to me,
With his mother's smilin' eyes.--
He gimme the slip, when the War broke out,
And followed me. And I
Never knowed till the first right's end ...
I found him, and then, ... "Good-by."

It's _got_ to be, and it's _goin'_ to be!
So at least I always try
To kind o' say, in a patient way,
"Well, it's _got_ to be. Good-by!"

I have said, "Good-by!--Good-by!--Good-by!"
With my very best good will,
All through life from the first,--and I
Am a cheerful old man still:

But it's _got_ to end, and it's _goin'_ to end!
And this is the thing I'll do,--
With my last breath I will laugh, O Death,
And say "Good-by" to _you_!...

It's _got_ to be! And again I say,--
When his old scythe circles high,
I'll laugh--of course, in the kindest way,--
As I say "Good-by!--Good-by!"

[Illustration]

"OUT OF REACH?"

You think them "out of reach," your dead?
Nay, by my own dead, I deny
Your "out of reach."--Be comforted:
'Tis not so far to die.

O by their dear remembered smiles
And outheld hands and welcoming speech,
They wait for us, thousands of miles
This side of "out-of-reach."

[Illustration]

"A BRAVE REFRAIN"

When snow is here, and the trees look weird,
And the knuckled twigs are gloved with frost;
When the breath congeals in the drover's beard,
And the old pathway to the barn is lost;
When the rooster's crow is sad to h