Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 153, December 19, 1917 by Various
page 39 of 56 (69%)
page 39 of 56 (69%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
The Pennyroyal of grace divine
In little cradles they do weave-- Little cradles therewith they line On Christmas Eve. And there, as midnight bells awake The Day of Birth, as they do tell, All into bud the small plants break With sweetest smell. All into bud that very hour; And pure and clean, as they do say, The Pennyroyal's full in flower On Christmas Day. _Far away in Sicily!-- Hark, the Christmas bells do chime! So blossom love in thee and me This Christmas time!_ W.B. * * * * * [Illustration: _Lady_ (_to uniformed friend_). "I SHOULDN'T A BIT MIND WEARING UNIFORM IF ONLY ONE COULD CHOOSE ONE'S OWN COLOURS AT THE WAR OFFICE."] * * * * * |
|