That on the field where once the cannon’s breath

Lay many a hero cold and stark in death,

Some little children, in the after-years,

Had come to play among the grassy spears,

And, all unheeding, when their romp was done,

Had left a wreath of wild flowers over one

Who fought to save his country, and whose lot

It was to die unknown and rest forgot?

THE CURSE OF WEALTH

“What shall I put my dollars in?” he asked, in wild dismay.

What

“I’ve fifty thousand of ’em, and I’d like to keep ’em too.

I’d like to put them by to serve some future rainy day,

But in these times of queer finance what can a fellow do?

“A railway bond is picturesque, and the supply is great,

But strangely like a novel that upon occasion drags,

Of which the critics of the time in hackneyed phrases state,

‘The work has certain value, but the int’rest often flags!’

“The same is true of railway shares, ’tis safer to invest

In ploughshares, so it seems to me, in this unhappy time.

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