All nature stoops to guard your lonely bed;
Sunshine and rain fall with their calming breath;
You need no pall, so young and newly dead,
Where the Lost Legion triumphs over death.

When with the morrow's dawn the bugle blew,
For the first time it summoned you in vain;
The Last Post does not sound for such as you;
But God's Reveillé wakens you again.

* * * * *

SUGAR.

"Francesca," I said, "you must be very deeply occupied; for ten
minutes I have not heard your silvery voice."

"I am attempting," she said, "to fill up our sugar form."

"Is it a tremendous struggle?"

"Yes," she said, "it is a regular brain-smasher."

"Give me the paper, and let me have a go at it."

With a haggard face, but without a word, she handed me the buff form,
and sat silently while I read the various explanations and directions.

"Francesca," I said, "you are doing wrong. It says that the form must
be filled up and signed by a responsible member of the household. Now