Part 17

Oh, I never knew the meaning of that red sign on the door, Never really understood it, never thought of it before; But I'll never see another since they've tacked one up on mine But I'll think about the father that is barred from all that's fine. And I'll think about the mother who is prisoner in there So her little son or daughter shall not miss a mother's care. And I'll share a fellow feeling with the saddest of my kin, The dad beside the gateway of the home he can't go in.

Oh, we laugh and joke together and the mother tries to be Brave and sunny in her prison, and she thinks she's fooling me; And I do my bravest smiling and I feign a merry air In the hope she won't discover that I'm burdened down with care. But it's only empty laughter, and there's nothing in the grin When you're talking through the window of the home you can't go in.

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THE PERFECT DINNER TABLE

A table cloth that's slightly soiled Where greasy little hands have toiled; The napkins kept in silver rings, And only ordinary things From which to eat, a simple fare, And just the wife and kiddies there, And while I serve, the clatter glad Of little girl and little lad Who have so very much to say About the happenings of the day.

Four big round eyes that dance with glee, Forever flashing joys at me, Two little tongues that race and run To tell of troubles and of fun; The mother with a patient smile Who knows that she must wait awhile Before she'll get a chance to say What she's discovered through the day. She steps aside for girl and lad Who have so much to tell their dad.

Our manners may not be the best; Perhaps our elbows often rest Upon the table, and at times That very worst of dinner crimes, That very shameful act and rude Of speaking ere you've downed your food, Too frequently, I fear, is done, So fast the little voices run. Yet why should table manners stay Those tongues that have so much to say?

At many a table I have been Where wealth and luxury were seen, And I have dined in halls of pride Where all the guests were dignified; But when it comes to pleasure rare The perfect dinner table's where No stranger's face is ever known: The dinner hour we spend alone, When little girl and little lad Run riot telling things to dad.

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TO-MORROW

He was going to be all that a mortal should be To-morrow. No one should be kinder or braver than he To-morrow. A friend who was troubled and weary he knew, Who'd be glad of a lift and who needed it, too; On him he would call and see what he could do To-morrow.

Each morning he stacked up the letters he'd write To-morrow. And thought of the folks he would fill with delight To-morrow. It was too bad, indeed, he was busy to-day, And hadn't a minute to stop on his way; More time he would have to give others, he'd say, To-morrow.

The greatest of workers this man would have been To-morrow. The world would have known him, had he ever seen To-morrow. But the fact is he died and he faded from view, And all that he left here when living was through Was a mountain of things he intended to do To-morrow.

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A PRAYER

God grant me kindly thought And patience through the day, And in the things I've wrought Let no man living say That hate's grim mark has stained What little joy I've gained.

God keep my nature sweet, Teach me to bear a blow, Disaster and defeat, And no resentment show. If failure must be mine Sustain this soul of mine.

God grant me strength to face Undaunted day or night; To stoop to no disgrace To win my little fight; Let me be, when it is o'er, As manly as before.

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TO THE LADY IN THE ELECTRIC

Lady in the show case carriage, Do not think that I'm a bear; Not for worlds would I disparage One so gracious and so fair; Do not think that I am blind to One who has a smile seraphic; You I'd never be unkind to, But you are impeding traffic.

If I had some way of knowing What you are about to do, Just exactly where you're going, If I could depend on you, I could keep my engine churning, Travel on and never mind you. Lady, when you think of turning, Why not signal us behind you?

Lady, free from care and worry, Riding in your plate-glass car, Some of us are in a hurry; Some of us must travel far. I, myself, am eager, very, To be journeying on my way; Lady, is it necessary To monopolize the highway?

Lady, at the handle, steering, Why not keep a course that's straight? Know you not that wildly veering As you do, is tempting fate? Do not think my horn I'm blowing Just on purpose to harass you, It is just a signal showing That I'd safely like to pass you.

Lady, there are times a duty Must be done, however saddening; It is hard to tell a beauty That she's very often maddening. And I would not now be saying Harsh and cruel words to fuss you, But when traffic you're delaying You are forcing men to cuss you.

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THE MAN WHO COULDN'T SAVE

He spent what he made, or he gave it away, Tried to save money, and would for a day, Started a bank-account time an' again, Got a hundred or so for a nest egg, an' then Some fellow that needed it more than he did, Who was down on his luck, with a sick wife or kid, Came along an' he wasted no time till he went An' drew out the coin that for saving was meant.