. Dreams and realities . lgirl in her bonnet of blue. Bout eight in the morning, when school bells ring,You see her get ready, the sweet little thing;And she pins on a flower, still wet with the dew,And ties just above it her bonnet of blue. Then away trips our lassie; she dont want to wait,For the prompt little darling dont want to be as sweet little maiden as ever I knew,And looks like a flower in her bonnet of blue. And we turn to go in with her kiss on our lips,And another blown back from her pink finger tips,And we say: May God bless her, and troubles be fewFor our little school
. Dreams and realities . lgirl in her bonnet of blue. Bout eight in the morning, when school bells ring,You see her get ready, the sweet little thing;And she pins on a flower, still wet with the dew,And ties just above it her bonnet of blue. Then away trips our lassie; she dont want to wait,For the prompt little darling dont want to be as sweet little maiden as ever I knew,And looks like a flower in her bonnet of blue. And we turn to go in with her kiss on our lips,And another blown back from her pink finger tips,And we say: May God bless her, and troubles be fewFor our little schoolgirl in her bonnet of blue! We all are school children in lifes great school,And often before us there lies some hard rule, OUR LITTLE SCHOOLGIRL. 37 And sorrows surround us and joys are few,From these guard our lassie in her bonnet of blue. Smooth out the rough places before her dear feet,And make all lifes school days both happy and sweet,And keep her as pure, as good, and as trueAs she is to-day in her bonnet of WRECKED. A FLASH of lightning in a midnight sky,An ocean with wild waves that lash and roar,A poor ship, with no help or succor nigh, Struggling amid the breakers, far from shore,With frantic beings roused from midnight sleepTo find a grave within the briny deep. The hours pass by, the hurricane is oer, A few pale stars peep frightened from the sky, The blackened wreck drifts helplessly toward shore;But neath the gurgling waves the sailors lie. The storm was brief; it was a cruel fate; The calm came soon, but came, alas! too late. Ah me! a life on times great ocean once set sail,As fair as ever left the Fathers care, A life that dreamed of no such word as fail,Followed and guarded by a mothers prayer. But winds of hate oertook the fragile bark, And storms of fate have made its pathway dark. And now, although the cruel storms have passed,And the wild waves have ceased to lash and roar, WRECKED. 39 And the long-prayed-for calm has come at last,It drifts, a helpl
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