lease my dad.

I can look back to-day and see how proud he used to be
When I'd come home from school and say they'd recommended me.
I didn't understand it then, for school boys never do,
But in a vague and general way it seems to me I knew
That father took great pride in me, and wanted me to shine,
And that it meant a lot to him when I'd done something fine.

Then one day out of school I went, amid the great world's hum,
An office boy, and father watched each night to see me come.
And I recall how proud he was of me that wondrous day
When I could tell him that, unasked, the firm had raised my pay.
I still can feel that hug he gave, I understand the joy
It meant to him to learn that men were trusting in his boy.

I wonder will it please my dad? How oft the thought occurs
When I am stumbling on the paths, beset with briars and burrs!
He isn't here to see me now, alone my race I run,
And yet some day I'll go to him and tell him all I've done.
And oh I pray that when we meet beyond life's stormy sea
That he may claim the old-time joy of being proud of me.

Living Flowers

"I'm never alone in the garden," he said. "I'm
never alone with the flowers.
It seems like I'm meeting the wonderful dead
out here with these blossoms of ours.
An' there's never a bush or a plant or a tree, but
somebody loved it of old.
An' the souls of the angels come talkin' to me
through the petals of crimson an' gold.

"The lilacs in spring bring the mother once more,
an' she lives in the midsummer rose.
She smiles in the peony clump at the door, an'
sings when the four o'clocks close.
She loved every blossom God gave us to own, an'
daily she gave it her care.
So never I walk in the garden alone, for I feel
that the mother's still there.

"These are the pinks that a baby once kissed,
still spicy with fragrance an' fair.
The years have been long since her laughter I've
missed, but her spirit is hovering there.
The roses that ramble and twine on the wall were
planted by one that was kind
An' I'm sure as I stand here an' gaze on them all,
that his soul has still lingered behind.

"I'm never alone in the garden," he said, "I
have many to talk with an' see,
For never a flower comes to bloom in its bed, but
it brings back a loved one to me.
An' I fancy whenever I'm bendin' above these
blossoms of crimson an' gold,
That I'm seein' an' hearin' the ones that I love,
wh