IF I ONLY WAS THE FELLOW

WHILE WALKING down a crowded
City street the other day,
I heard a little urchin
To a comrade turn and say,

"Say, Chimmney, lemme tell youse,
I'd be happy as a clam
If I only was de feller dat
Me mudder t'inks I am.

"She t'inks I am a wonder
An' she knows her little lad
Could never mix wit' nuttin'
Dat was ugly, mean or bad.
Oh, lot o' times I sit and t'ink
How nice, 'twould be, gee whiz!
If a feller was de feller
Dat his mudder t'inks he is."

My friends, be yours a life of toil
Or undiluted joy,
You can learn a wholesome lesson
From that small, untutored boy.
Don't aim to be an earthly saint,
With eyes fixed on a star:
Just try to be the fellow that
Your mother thinks you are.

--Will S. Adkin

A PRAYER FOR A LITTLE HOME

GOD SEND us a little home,
To come back to, when we roam.
Low walls and fluted tiles,
Wide windows, a view for miles.

Red firelight and deep chairs,
Small white beds upstairs-
Great talk in little nooks,
Dim colors, rows of books.

One picture on each wall,
Not many things at all.
God send us a little ground,
Tall tress stand round.

Homely flowers in brown sod,
Overhead, thy stars, O God.
God bless thee, when winds blow,
Our home, and all we know.

--Florence Bone

THE BLUE BOWL

Reward

ALL DAY I did the little things,
The little things that do not show;
I bought the kindling for the fire
I set the candles in a row,
I filled a bowl with marigolds,
The shallow bowlyou love the best-
And made the house a pleasant place
Where weariness might take its rest.

The hours sped on, my eager feet
Could not keep pace with my desire.
So much to do, so little time!
I could not let my body tire;
Yet, when the coming of the night,
Blotted the garden from my sight,
And on the narrow, graveled walks
Between the guarding flower stalks
I heard your step: I was not through
With services I meant for you.

You came into the quiet room
That glowed enchanted with the bloom
Of yellow flame. I saw your face,
Illumined by the firelit space,
Slowly grow still and comforted-
"It's good to be at home," you said.

--Blanche Bane Kuder

LIKE MOTHER, LIKE SON

Do you know that your soul is of my soul such a part,
That you seem to be fibre and core of my heart?
None other can pain me as you, dear, can do,
None other can please me or praise me as you.

Remember the world will be quick with its blame
If shadow or stain ever darken your name.
"Like mother, like son" is a saying so true
The world will judge largely the "mother" by you.

Be yours then the task, if task it shall be,
To force the proud world to do homage to me.
Be sure it will say, when its verdict you're won,
"She reaped as she sowed. Lo! this is her son."

--Margaret Johnston Grafflin