TO ! AMES TREMEER , Former Principa l o f

Sm i thvi l le High Schoo l

! ins cribe t o you these s imp le verses .not b ecause they have any merit as l iterature

worthy of your approva l , but because ! know

you W i l l receive generously any honest effort

in the writ ing of vers e by one of your old

students in whom you took a kind ly interest ,and one Who has an ever warm affection for

you .

! RAN ! E . ! AG E .

! N ! E!

! oyhood ! ays

Spring

The Old ! oat

! ifferen t V iewpoin ts

Wee Ellen

The ! ion eer

The ! octor

His ! ree G iftHowHe ! ame

My ! anadian G irl

TheHomeland

The Valley of ! outh

! ities ofRefuge

Sayings

! oyhood ! ays

When ! s it and p onder of boyhood hours ,Of ! hildhood 's sun shine and gentle showers ,Of p laymates happy and l ives that were freeTo fo l low th e rob in , the chipmonk and bee .When ! th ink o f the days that were one merry song,

With never a care through a l l the day long ,In ! uest of the b ird n est , in fishing the brook ,When of innocent p leasures we fond ly partook ,

The thought comes to mind , oh what a rea l j oyTo be once again a barefoot boy .

With face painted red with the sweet wildberries ,And mind fi l led with vis ions of app les and cherries ,We tramp ed through the meadows with heart l ight and freeIn search of a hickory for my chum and me .A cl imb through i ts branches , the nuts to obtain ,Then off in search of new con ! uests again ;No care a nd no sorrow , our hearts were as freeAs the gay feathered songsters in yon shady tr ee .With memories l ike these ! cannot refrainFrom longing for days o f true ch ildhood again .

The b lue sky was our covering , th e sunshine our heat ,The green sward rose so ftly to meet our bare feet ,The birds in the branches , the b ees b lossom wise ,The frogs in the poo l , and the b lue in the skies ,A world fu l l o f music , a heart ful l o f j oy ,Earth 's happ i est tenant , the barefoo t boy .

These days swiftly pass , and l i fe 's prob lems , noneMay hop e to escap e them , not one mother 's son .

And so in the ci ty and out on the p lain ,

Our chum s may be sigh ing for ch i ldhood again .

Spring

To thee a welcome , Sp ring ,And to the b irds who s ing ,Sweet me lo dies from raptured throats ,Which fi l l the air with warbling not es .The rob in first , with breas t o f gold ,Who from our land when air grew cold ,To warmer c l ime had taken wing ,Has now returned , fi rs t s ign o f spring.

The b lue b ird ’s song seems , everOur h earts from chil l t o sever .And thro ’ the day one song we sing ,With merry vo ic e , th e j oy o f spring .

The laughing voice o f waters free ,Run s thro ’ the brook and hi l l with g lee ,From hi l l to g len the r ipp les run ,As p layful as a lad at fun .

And by its no i sy banks are s een ,Sweet f lowers spread o ’er carp e t s green .

Spring beauty , with h er pure white hood ,The cold o f winter has withstood .

A sweet May- flower with fragrance rare ,Appeal s to any feet that dareTo tread upon the sward o f green ,

And ki l l th e b loom that is unseen .

With air so sweet and sky so b lue ,To mankind , Nature

,

i s a lways tru e .Could we but breathe the j oy i t b rings

,

When chi l ly winter meets the spring,

Our hearts to Him would thankfu l be,

For He our sorrows a l l can see,

And as l ife ’s winter passes by,

A brighter sunshine fi l l s o ur sky .

So l et our hearts in thankfu l praise ,And songs o f adorat ion raise

,

To Him who made the flowers rare ,And keep s the song-b irds in His care .

The Old ! oat

In 1 8 6 5 ,in h is toric o ld ! uebec ,

Where the f lag of France once f loated on the breeze ,Where Montcalm and Wolfe contested , with a valor that ref lects

Their al l egiance to their homelands o ’er the seas ,Where S 'e igneurs found their way and Britons won the day ,

Where the Indian met Pal eface long ago ,Where th e great S t . Lawrence bore on its bosom , so men say ,

Pioneers of France and Britain to and fro ,It was here in 6 5 o ld ! uebec got a surpris e ,

When the ! nion Bank of Canada was born ;She was launched ,

a boat , brand new , by men both brave and true,And was bui lt from s t em to stern to stand the storm .

With a loyal crew sh e sa il ed , to the land of promise fair ,Where the buffa lo stamp eded o ’er the p lains ,

And the virgin pra iri e rose and ended none knew where ,And dol lars were as scarc e as window panes .

A ! uestion then arose ! I heard from one who knows !What in duced the ! nion Bank to go in there !

I t was nation-bui ld ing t ime , and the ! nion f el l in l in e ,To help the gol den west to break the sod ;

So they sai led their vessel westward , t o b e there in p lenty timeTo move the ! golden grain crop with thei r wad ,

To buy the Rancher catt l e . He was on ly asked to signA note , unti l he ’d earned it from the sod .

The Rancher met the Banker , and they p ul l ed together strong ,And they ’ve made the Prairi e Provin ces to pay ,

In gra in , and ore , and timb er , an d they say ! There ’s nothing wrongNVith the Bank that p ioneered and came to stay .

Now the boat has sai l ed away to the land of Midnight Sun .

She is cruis ing wi th the Orienta l breeze ,She has reached Japan and China and has fired her premier gun ,

For banking in th e far-off Eastern seas .She has a p ilo t that is abl e , and his cards are on the tab le ,

So each man take his hand an d p lay it fair :W i th a staff true and loyal , they sure ly shal l b e ab le

To buil d a Bank that ’s honored everywhere .

! ifferent Viewpoints

Fo lks a l l say my ha i r is red .

! I t ’s only auburn , ! my gir l said ,

And when its brushed for her to seeShe j ust can ’t tak e h er eyes o ff me .

My gir l s ees me through a g lass ,Magnifying to the lass .

Bright est ra inbows th rough it sh ineWhen her eyes l ook into mine .

There 's a lo t o f fo lks who seeNothing good in you and me .

Bu t there ’s two who are a lways true ,My best gir l , and your gir l too .

Now my hair is white they say .

My gir l says ! I t ’s on ly grey .

But we ’re one , so why should weCare , what others think of me .

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Wee Ellen

Soft wee fingers , p ink wee toes ,Each in p lac e in four smal l rows ,Litt l e hands move to and fro ,That her wishes we may know ;Plac ed above the l i tt le head ,

Means the sandman call s ! to bed .

Spread in fan-shap e over face ,Means they hide a smil ing p lace ,When they ’re rais ed in sof t app ea lAnd two arms around you steal ;Then they speak with meaning clearAs you hold your swee t wee dear .

Littl e mouth l ip s rosy red ,

Smile when kindly words are said ,Laughing eyes o f deep est b lue ,Sparkle l ike the sun-kissed dew ,

!'imp l ed cheek so so ft and c lear ,Tel l o f Angel-kiss es near ;Tiny feet that k ick about ,Tel l when ten smal l toes are out .In a language all her own ,

She makes wants and wishes known .

Serious glance each seems to say ,I ’l l be big like you some day .

Tender l itt l e fl owers are they ,May their l itt l e feet ne ’er stray ,Where the thorns and briars grow ,

Where earth ’s sorrows they may know.

Life b efore them : may it br ing ,

Paths o f sunshine , l ike the springStrewn with flowers , bright and gay ,Where their l ittl e feet may p lay .

May our fondest hopes and dreamsFor the paths that are unseenAl l come true , and may we see ,Tiny tots , God ’s best in thee .

The ! ioneer

As I dream by th e fi res ide , a pictu re I see ,Of l i fe ’s crowded gal l ery , the cl earest to meAn old fashioned home , with f ire-s ide a-glow ,

And an o ld- fash ioned coup l e with ha ir whit e as snow.

I t’s the o ld p ioneers , Go d b less them to-day,They have taught us to work , to love , and to p ray .

Like the s talwert o ld oak , th ey are strong , brave , an d true ,For they bui l t up the homeland neath Red, Wh ite and B lu e .

They have braved the o ld forest , a con ! ues t they’ve won ,

They have fin ished the i r labor where we ’ve j ust begun ,May the torch which they hand us b e kept burning b right ,For their nat ion ’s g lory , and our true b irthright .

May the God o f our fathers be our God to-day ,And thei r nob le e ! amp le guide us on our way ,May our nat ion be bui lded on their nob le p lan ,

A nation of service for our fel lowman .

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The ! octor

A tribute to the l i fe and workof the Late ! r . S . R . ! alrymp le

He came from the hal ls of learning ,With the skil l o f a pract ice d hand ,

And the hop e of a great soul yearning ,To serve in his native land .

Humanity ’s needs were ca l l ing ,

With a mingled hop e and fear ,! outh and age by the way were fa l l ing,

He would bring them succour and cheer .

Into a grea t l i fe bat tl e ,Into the constant fight ,

To homes where innocent p rattl e,

Breaks the sti l lness o f death-fought night .Out where the sil ent reaper

Wou ld p luck from the early dawn ,The spa rk from the troub led s leeper

,

And the curta in o f l i fe be drawn .

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THE ! O ! TOR— ! ontinued

Here was his chosen ca l l ing ,

Here was his labor o f love ,Here where many were fal l ing ,

His work would b e b lessed from above .

With a heart and a hand consecrated ,He labored with a master ing sou l ,

From his ca l l a brighter l i fe dated ,For the heart free from pain ’s heavy to l l .

Fresh hop e was h is l i ght as he entered th e fight ,He fought with a courage and sk i ll ,

He never l os t sight in the darkest night ,Of an errand of mercy to fi l l .

Beloved son of earth , Heaven ’s mercy he shed ,In the homes o f deep sorrow and pa in ,

He loved l itt l e chi l dren , and honored the headTurned to si lver , with service i ts ga in .

He has crossed o ’er the great s i l ent river ,A soul l ike th e white fal l ing snow ,

The Great Physician has cal led him,

From his service o f love here below .

Over there with The Master he l iveth,

And th e old story ’s truth he wi l l know,

That for loving service He giveth,

A rob e that is whit er than snow .

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His ! ree G ift

Oh Jesus , my Saviour , who first l ov’

e d me ,I ’l l p raise Thee forever for Thy gift so free .

When sorrow ’s my portion , Thou lovest me moreAnd surroundes t with compassion a heart that i s sore .

Thou lovest the s inner , who ne ’er speaks Thy NameWith reverence and love , Thy sweet Grace to p roc laim ,

And sti l l Thou dost o ffer Thy pardon so free ,To deepes t offenders who come unto Thee .

Oh fi l l me dear Saviour wi th Thy love so free ,That in Thy b lest servi ce Thou mayes t use me

,

To gather Thy sheep , that have wandered astray ,And bind up the wounded that fal l by the way .

No pr ize do I seek , no reward do I crave ,But to bring someone nearer Thy Cross , where to saveH is footsteps from fal l ing , Thou canst in Thy loveGrant sweet peace and pardon , through grace from above .

And when Thy voice cal l eth Oh come unto Me,

How happy forever my portion shal l be,

I f I may see faces that down here bel owWith some deed o f kindness , I ’ve he lped , Thee to know .

HowHe Game

The prophets had promised the Jews a great ! ing ,Of whose might and power al l Israe l woul d sing .

Whose coming in sp l endor , from Heaven so bright ,Would turn into glory dark Israe l ’s night .A ! ing who would recognize Israel ’s worth ,

As the Chosen of God , an d th e sal t o f the earth ,

Who wou ld ru l e by the Law , and with sp l endor d ivineE ! a lt the ir great peop le above al l mankind .

With timbre l and trumphet , triumphant acc laim ,

They wou ld wel come the Master to earth ly domain .

The mighty Mes s iah , o f God’s chosen few ,

Wou ld set up his ! ingdom on earth for the J ew .

With char iots and horses , with marching and singing ,With shouts o f the mult itude , panlm branches swinging ,Jerusalem City surpass ing o l d sp lendor ,Wil l welcome Mess iah , great I srae l’s ! efender .

He came when the shadows o f n ight clos ed the day ,With no room at the Inn , he was laid in the hay ,Of Beth lehem ’s manger , b irth p lace of Go d’s cho ice ,Where he speaks to the humb l e

,who hear His smal l Vo ice .

The Jew with his dream of a great mighty ! ing ,When He came , faiflied to hear Heaven ’s chor isters s ing.

The meek N azarine , ! ivine Son from G l ory ,Came unt o His own , who be l i eved no t H i s story .

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HOW HE ! AME— ! ontinuedHe knocked at their hearts , which were hardened and cold .

To the mob for a p ittance , our Saviour was so ld .

He was nai l ed to the cross , gave His l i fe on the tree ,A ransom for s inners , to set mankind fr ee .

The b lest Saviour Pilo t , th e Lamb that was s la in ,

Who bore al l th e bruises , and suffer ed the pain ,Whio cross ed the dark shadow , our ransom to pay,

I s risen , He l iveth , and cal l s us to-day .

Oh po int not the finger of scorn at the Jew,

! n less thin e own heart to the Saviour is true .

We have bowed at the a ltar of wea lth and of fame,

And neg lected the needy who cal led in His name,

For our love and protect ion , th e right to a p lace ,In God ’s bl essed sunshine , and rich saving grace.Each t ime we meet sorrow and need by the way

,

And fai l in our duty , our Chris t we betray .

The Babe of the manger sti l l l iveth to-day,

There are sti l l Judas hearts , His trust to b etray ,Both the Jew and the Genti le have need of His love

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His grace and His pardon , and light from above .L ike the wise men o f old , who laid gifts at His feet ,May we bring b roken hearts , to the blessed retreat .Not with t imbre l and trumpet , Our ! ing to p roclaim ,

But with humble contrit ion,and trust in His name .

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My ! anadian G irl

A Song

My Canadian gir l is the fair est to meO f al l the swee t f l owers that grow .

Her face is as fa ir as the l ily t o seeAnd her sou l pure as whi te dr iven snow .

Her eyes are deep b lue and the l ove l i ght shines throughAnd her smile l i ghts a fa ce al l aglow .

She ’s a sunbeam , a rose and a viol et too .

She i s Heaven ’s best gift h ere b e low .

ChorusThere are gir ls in old France who put youth in a trance,

The I ta l ian dark beauty s a dream .

The American gir l i s a beauti fu l pearlBut give me my Canadian ! ueen .

She is ta l l , s l im and gracefu l , and moves l ike a fairy ,Her hair i s an auburn , a glor ious crown .

Her lip s are as red as a fresh r ip ened cherry ,Her dimpiled sweet face ne ’er i s seen with a frown .

Her neck is as whi te as Canadian snowAnd her l ithe form as gracefu l to see

As the deer o f the forest,when so ft. breezes b low

And the hunter ’s horn sounds loud and free .

She belongs to the North land,where br ight sunny skies

! iss a beautiful v a ll ey and p lain,

The true charm of nature l ies deep in her eyesAnd her smi les sweetest sunshine contain .

She is Heaven ’s best gi ft to Canadian homes,

And though distant lands I may seeThere is no maiden fa irer from cottage to throne

Than the gi r l o f my homeland to me .

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The Valley of ! outh

A Song

There ’s a home in a vall ey , where br ight f lowers b loom ,

And the b ird-songs are sweet er to me ,Than a l l the gay songsters of c l imes j ust a s fair ,

’Tis the home of my boyhood so free ,Where pure app l e bl ossoms p erfumed p urer air ,

Al l its beauty in memory I see ,And though I may wander in many sweet bowers ,

The r e i s only one val l ey for me .

ChorusIt ’s the val ley of youth , i t ’s the val l ey o f truth ,

The memory dwel ls in my heart ,And in fancy I l ive the fond hours again .

May their sweet incense never depart .

As memory turns backward I s ee once again ,

The bare-footed chums of my youth ,

The smil ing green fiel ds , the old mi l l er ’s dam ,

The church where we heard from God ’s truth .

I see my sweet mo ther with. s i lvery hair ,And a fa ce pure an d tender to see ,

So of a l l the fair val l ey I ’ve seen anywhere ,There is only one val l ey for me .

I hear the cows lowing , th e birds sweet ly s ing ,The busy bee hums round the door .

I hear the old b el l o f the vi l lage church ring ,

In my heart it shal l r ing evermore .

N ew val leys I know and new faces I meet ,New p leasures in l ife there may b e

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Bu t , oh for a gl impse o f my old fashioned home ,In the val l ey o f boyhood to me .

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! ities of Refuge

Part 1

Half a league to the ci ty of refuge , has he s trength to outrunhis fo e !

Anon his glance is turned backward , his pursuer’s posit ion to know ,

With parched throat and brain that is reel ing ’nea th the b laze o fan Eastern sun .

Can he reach the b lest c ity o f refuge , must he fai l when the goa li s near won !

Pressed hard by his foes , he continu es with heart b eating fast , yethe knows

That trained for the races h is s inews are stronger than those o fhis foes .

On : and on : but a la s , does he fa lter , i s he fa int , wil l h is couragenow fa i l ,

Has fear now become his master , sha l l th e crue l law of vengeancep revail !

But see— the n ew pace has revived him , he sp eeds on ,new hop e

in hi s face ,The gat e o f the c ity is Op en , see h im now set a marve lous pace .

He has won , close the gate , here in safety he rests an d gives tha nksfor th e p lace

Tha t a Judean c ity o f refuge p rovides for re l i ef to his race .

2 1

! !T! ES O ! RE! ! G E— ! on t inued

Part 2

He to i led on a southern p lanta t ion in the fi el ds o f cotton and corn ,

His o ld mammy ’s l ove and devot ion given each curl ey head thatwas born .

A kind hearted master had made him forget he was born as a s lave,

But a las for the l it t le log-cab in , th e master had fi l l ed a fresh grave .

Into the slave—traders market , from loved ones ru dely torn ,

He was so ld to a hard-hearted master ; how he wished he had neverbeen born ,

The cruel lash cal l ed to h is memory stor ies of others ’ f l ightInto the far off northland ; o f this freedom he dreamed each n ight .

E ighty l eagues to a c ity of refuge , has the slave strength to outrunhis foe

With the fear o f the b lood-hounds upon him an d the sting of amaster’s cruel b low .

Each night h e bravely pushed forward , the b ri l l iant north s tar hisguide ,

With a hope in his breast of freedom and the God o f his race byhis s ide .

He has won , in the land of freedom a s lave h e wil l never more be ,He is now in th e land of the map le where a l l her pe op le are free .

Canada ’s gate i s as wide as her border,a slave she n ever would buy ,

Sh e is a modern c i ty o f refuge awake to the col ored slave cry .

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! !T! ES O ! RE ! ! G E— ! on t inued

Pa rt 3

A poor o ld darkey preacher is s tart led by the cryOf a lynching mob who c laim the r ight to say his boy must die .

The ir lust for b lood not sat isfi ed , they make a new demand ,Send us his second boy they cry to a friendly northern land .

No proo f o f hi s guil t shal l we furnish , he bel ongs to us body and soul ,But H 11 wil l take ca re o f h is body , and God wil l take care o f

hi s sou l .He is now in a c ity of refuge where mercy has i ts way ,And under British j ust ice h e wi l l receive fair p lay .

A nation was torn asun der i t s colored race to free ,But the worl d begins to wonder if their freedom makes them free .

The land - t hat freed its co lored race from many masters . cruel ,Wil l find no p lac e , free from disgrace , wh ere lynching i s the rul e .

The probl em o f the Sunny'

South is old and hard and deep,

But unti l these men get l ib erty the nation sha l l not sl eep,

The time is not far distant when ! ncl e Sam wil l Show ,

Each Southern State they ’ve reached th e date when lynch law hasto go .

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SA! ! N G S

Truth is ever o ld , but is somet imes dressed up to look new .

Reputa t ion i s what fo lks say you are , character i s what youknow you are .

I f our old c lo thes go t as much care as our new ones do , theywou l d look more l ik e them .

I f you want t o spo il a boy , t el l him you have no confidencein him.

! id you ever meet a fel low from your home town whom youwere not p leased to see ! I f you d id then there i s somethi ng wr ong .

I f we have to l eave home to appreciate i t , why not take a tr ipright away .

I f you don ’t l ike your home town or city,either say noth ing

o r get out .

Wealth shou ld b e a means not an end .

Refinement is more often an inher it ed genti l ity than anac ! uired po l ish .

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A ro ll ing stone gath ers no mos s , but fish where they b ite thebest .

I f every one achieved succ ess they wou ld a l l b e at the topthen who would run th ings at the bottom !

Plain p eop l e have the compensat ion of being good hearted andsens ibl e .

H um :

A rotten app l e wi l l sp oi l a barr el of good ones . It is so withthe members o f society .

A rea l handshake is free from para lysi s .

A man ’s word should b e as good as his bond,but modern

bus iness says ! Give us the bond firs t . !

The best looking fruit is o ften rotten at the core .

A stingy man does not rea lize hi s st inginess .

The higher you fly the farther you have to drop .

The on ly safe wheel o f fortune is hard work .

Love i s l ike a sunbeam,i t creep s in everywhere .

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Wild oats re ! u ire l i tt le cu ltivation for a bumpe r crop .

Peace is a condition rather than a reso lut ion .

A woman ’s reason i s because .

A man ‘s ! th e sa lary he draws .

The boy who p lays amateur baseba l l i s bui lding character .

It took seven yards of c loth to'

make grandmother a dress, and

i t takes a yard and a ! uarter now ; why the high cost o f l iving !

A dol lar saved is a do l lar earned .

Slang is the worst enemy of the Eng l ish language .

He is no t a lways a patriot who waves the flag .

O t t t ‘

A smi le costs no th ing but i t is worth a lot .

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I s Mars a monarchy or a repub l i c , at p eace or at war ! Havethey electric l ights and an income ta! !

Wil l Europ e have a common language in 1 0 0 years ! Thegrowing tendency toward international conferences suggests th eposs ibi l i ty .

Pure gol d n ever changes , i t wears we l l , i s a lways bright , andis the same on the ins ide as on the ou ts ide . Are you p ure go ld !

I f you a re a lone on the highway , and are the onl y occupan t o fthe 'car you are driving which i s your own p rope rty , and you haveenough mon ey to pay your funera l e! p en ses , then , and only th en ,

are you e ! cusab l e for sp eed ing .

Profanity i s th e e ! press ion o f a sma l l brain and a barren soul .

Someone has sai d the automob il e has come to s tay . So hasthe undertaker .

t t t fi t

Loya l ty is an inte l l igent appreciat ion of the heritage whichcomes from our forefathers ; an honest endeavor to make ourcountry a better p lace in which to l ive

,and a true v i s ion of its

future poss ib i l iti es .

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With a l l th e windows op en ,The neighbors hear her sing ,

Oh what an awfu l p r ice to payFor the coming o f Spr ing .

Anan ias—W e have a bu ilding so h igh in our ci ty that fromthe top storey you can see another city fi fty mi les disrant .

Aliarus—W e have a buil ding so h igh in our c ity that fromthe top storey on a c lear day , mind you I said a c lear day, you cansee the knots in the North Pol e .

! Ping , sang a bul let as i t whizz ed over the German l in es .Byng , sang another as they stormed the trenches .

I wonder after a l l i f St . Patrick drove ALL the snakes ou t o fIreland .

Hel lo , o ld stay-at-home , how are you l iving ! !

! I ’m not l iving , we’re house c lean ing .

!

She ! es , I am the baby in our fami ly .

He , aside Second chi l dhood .

!

There is music and there is jazz ; they are not even fourthcousins .

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Some of the rungs in the ladder o f success are honesty , perseverance ,

punctua l i ty and p ersonal ity

Every new day is an unwri tten page , to b e fi l l ed with goldendeeds , or marred by b lots , which cannot be erased .

In adversi ty we know who are our rea l fr iends .

There is a Sycamore tree for every ! acchaeus .

The sun rises , the b irds sing , the flowers b loom for the justand the unj ust , with th is difference , that the j u st man sees in thesun s rays a warmer , br ighter glow , the b ird ’s song has for h im a

c learer not e , and the flowers s en d forth a sweeter fragrance .

A mother ’s love is l ike the gen t le d ew that fa l ls from Heavenin b l ess ing whi le we s lumber ; i t is l ike the b lessed morning l ightthat drives away the night shadows ; i t i s l ike the air we breathe ,ever round about us ; i t i s l ike a peacefu l r iver pure and deep ; iti s l ik e the hightest mountain cal l ing us to a nob l er p lan e o f l i fe .

It is a l l th ese , and more , i t i s a p resence we feel but cannot describeor understand .

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