And the dear old-fashioned blossoms, and the old home where they grew,
And the mother-hands that plucked them, and the mother-love I knew!
Ah, of all earth's fragrant flowers in the bowers on her breast,
Sure the blooms which memory brings us are the brightest and the best;
And the fairest, rarest blossoms ne'er could win my love, I know,
Like the sweet old-fashioned posies mother tended long ago.

* * * * *

THE LIGHT-KEEPER

For years I've seen the frothy lines go thund'rin' down the shore;
For years the surge has tossed its kelp and wrack about my door;
I've heard the sea-wind sing its song in whispers 'round the place,
And fought it when it flung the sand, like needles, in my face.
I've seen the sun-rays turn the roof ter blist'rin', tarry coal;
I've seen the ice-drift clog the bay from foamin' shoal ter shoal;
I've faced the winter's snow and sleet, I've felt the summer's shower,
But every night I've lit the lamp up yonder in the tower.

I've seen the sunset flood the earth with streams of rosy light,
And every foot of sea-line specked with twinklin' sails of white;
I've woke ter find the sky a mess of scud and smoky wreath,
A blind wind-devil overhead and hell let loose beneath.
And then ter watch the rollers pound on ledges, bars and rips,
And pray fer them that go, O Lord, down ter the sea in ships!
Ter see the lamp, when darkness comes, throw out its shinin' track,
And think of that one gleamin' speck in all the world of black.

[Illustration: "It seems ter me that's all there is: jest do your duty