. Complete story of the Collinwood school disaster and how such horrors can be prevented . get and the like befallour own dear ones. 260 THE STORY OF THE FIRE OUR LITTLE BOY BLUE. The little toy dog is covered with dust, But sturdy and stanch he stands;And the little toy soldier is red with rust, And his musket molds in his was, when the little toy dog was new, And the soldier was passing fair,And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue Kissed them and put them there. Now, dont you go till I come, he said, And dont you make any noise!So, toddling off to his trundle-bed, He dreamt
. Complete story of the Collinwood school disaster and how such horrors can be prevented . get and the like befallour own dear ones. 260 THE STORY OF THE FIRE OUR LITTLE BOY BLUE. The little toy dog is covered with dust, But sturdy and stanch he stands;And the little toy soldier is red with rust, And his musket molds in his was, when the little toy dog was new, And the soldier was passing fair,And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue Kissed them and put them there. Now, dont you go till I come, he said, And dont you make any noise!So, toddling off to his trundle-bed, He dreamt of the pretty as he was dreaming, an angel song Awakened our Little Boy Blue—Oh, the years are many, the years are long. But the little toy friends are true. Aye, faithful to Little Boy Blue, they stand. Each in the same old place,Awaiting the touch of a little hand, The smile of a little they wonder, as waiting these long years through In the dust of that little has become of our Little Boy Blue Since he kissed them, and put them there. —Eugene I wonder when hes coming 262 THE STORY OF THE FIRE THE LONG SILENCKBy Edmund Vance Cooke. There are sorrowful words when the soldier falls From out of the firing line;There are fitting words when the Long Watch calls To the sailor out on the what are the words which a man may speak, Which are other than vainest breath,In silence of these—the little and weak— Who have played the game with Death. For Horror has hidden her eyes in fright, And Terror has stopped her Solace stands dumb at the ghastly sight, And her only words are what is the form which Pity may own In a pitiless hour like this,When these mothers are sitting alone—alone. With their babies they may not kiss. Oh, what to them is the sounding word. And what is the poets page?And what all the wisdom written and heard By prophet and priest and sage?They are dust and dross, they are straw and chaff; Can th
Size: 1440px × 1734px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bo, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookidcompletestoryofc00neil
