. At early candle light and other poems. e a flicker far above you raps upon a a devils darning-needle gads around you just as gladAnd contended as the poUywog upon the lily when your hook is fastened in a lusty, leaping bass,And at the battles ending you can lay him on the grass, WHERE THE CORK GOES DOWN 133 You feel so full of spirit from your shoes up to your crownThat your life will be worth living where the cork goes down. A chap who studies eating, says that fish is good forbrain: I think it is the fishing, not the fish, that gives the gain; For I have noticed that the
. At early candle light and other poems. e a flicker far above you raps upon a a devils darning-needle gads around you just as gladAnd contended as the poUywog upon the lily when your hook is fastened in a lusty, leaping bass,And at the battles ending you can lay him on the grass, WHERE THE CORK GOES DOWN 133 You feel so full of spirit from your shoes up to your crownThat your life will be worth living where the cork goes down. A chap who studies eating, says that fish is good forbrain: I think it is the fishing, not the fish, that gives the gain; For I have noticed that the fellows let imagination play Round the wonderful dimensions of the one that gotaway ; And the stories chase each other, just as chipper and asfree As the squirrels winding streaks of red around the elm-tree. O when the sun is near to setting, your soul begins tosing As you purchase from a country boy a dozen on a string. And you march home in the evening a romancer of re-nown. Telling how you missed the big one where the corkgoes WHERE ARE THE HEROES? HERE are the heroes of old days? He asks, and lifts his lyre, and sounding psalm, the meed of praiseDue to the dead itinerants ;The men who, fearless, trod the mazeOf unpathed forests, sailed the , prayed, and rode with Asbury,That Christ might have sole are the heroes of old days? The while beside him men say this: Send us where souls in sorrow die ;Where heathenisms brood will hiss In hells dread dialect, when highThe cross of Calvary we raise; To serve where Satan has his seat; To warm them with our own hearts heat; And, when t is done, say death is are the heroes of old days? Their hymns are heard in canons cold,By blight or blizzard undismayed; WHERE ARC THE HEROES? 135 The frontiers farthest farm they foldIn Jesus love, and with Him wade The Siddims slime of city ways; Thro crying want and crushing debtGive one their tears and one their sweat,And, dying, ask of God to ge
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