Foibles of fancy and rhymes of the times . ng the clouds of hope and stilling fear,These are our daily missions sit beside the bed of painWhen fever burns a brothers brainAnd nurse him back to health works like these we neer when our great dictator, God,Bids brother Knight pass neath the rod And enter that grand lodge on high That lodge supreme, above the sky— We fold his hands upon his breast. And when his corpse with prayer weve blest, We give him cortege to the grave 164 FOIBLES OF FANCY AND And there with tears his dust we flowers stre
Foibles of fancy and rhymes of the times . ng the clouds of hope and stilling fear,These are our daily missions sit beside the bed of painWhen fever burns a brothers brainAnd nurse him back to health works like these we neer when our great dictator, God,Bids brother Knight pass neath the rod And enter that grand lodge on high That lodge supreme, above the sky— We fold his hands upon his breast. And when his corpse with prayer weve blest, We give him cortege to the grave 164 FOIBLES OF FANCY AND And there with tears his dust we flowers strew upon his speak this, of our Order here. A FRAGMENT. Let angels that hover around us in air Keeping record of joys that bloom in the heart,Proclaim from their tablets the dearest joy there, And in whispers of spirit well hear them impart;That it is the sweet pleasure when exiles wc roam Of knowing that loved ones remember us still—And that dear ones weve left behind us at home Have thoughts of ourselves their memories to HUMOR AND DIALECT. 166 FOIBLES OF FANCY AND I THINK I THUNK A LIE. I used to think when I was young, And my heart was free from there was grief in every tear And joy in every smile ;That friendship was not all a cheat And love could never die,But thinking now of what I thunk, I think I thunk a He. I used to think about myself, And think that I would beA governor or a president, Or a general like Lee;But I have waited long in vain, Whilst years rolled slowly by,And, thinking now of what I thunk, I think I thunk a lie. I used to think the ladies were All sweetnesses combined,That they were all Gods last and best Of perfectness refined ;That they were not half pads and painty But angels from on high,But, thinking now of what I thunk, I think I thunk a lie. The preachers, too, I to not like other men, RHYMES OF THE TIMES. 16/ And were not tempted of the flesh, And could not, therefore, sin ;But since Ive traveled round
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