There may be happier times than this, But if there are I've never known them, When youngsters jump in bed to kiss And wake the pa's and ma's who own them. What if the sun be up or not, Another perfect day is dawning, And is it not a happy lot With such delight to greet the morning? Sometimes I hear them quit their bed And catch their bare-foot pitter-patter, And other times they're at my head Before I know what is the matter. Brigands to rob us of our sleep They come--their weapons love and laughter, And though we're locked in slumber deep, They always get the joy they're after. Some days there are when we would lie And dream our dreams a little longer, Then "back to bed awhile," we cry-- But oh, our love for them is stronger, Yes, stronger than our wish to sleep And so we countermand the order And let that pair of brigands leap With wild delight across love's border. There may be happier times than this, But if there are I've never known them, When youngsters jump in bed to kiss And wake the pa's and ma's who own them. They miss a lot, the man and wife Who never feel those glad hands shake them, Who rise by day to toil and strife, But have no little tots to wake them. _Grief's Only Master_ Into the lives of all The tears of sorrow fall. Into the happiest hearts Grief drives her darts; No door however stout Can shut Death's angel out. Vain are the things we prize, Treasure and pomp's disguise; They cannot stay the tear When the true griefs appear. Where Death will strike to-day Gold cannot bar the way. There is no joy secure, No peace that shall endure, No smile that man shall keep. God wills that he must weep, And in his darkest hour Vain is all earthly power. What, then, should guard the gate? How shall a man be great? Through the dark days and long, What power shall make him strong? Wherein does courage lie, Since all he loves must die? When sorrow binds his hands, Helpless the strong man stands. One master only grief Bows to, and that's belief-- Faith that he'll some day know Why God hath willed it so! INDEX OF FIRST LINES A fairy and a robin met A lilac bush is a lovely thing A little braver when the skies are gray Always seeing the funny side A possible man of affairs Apples ripe for eating, and the grate fire blazing high A yellow crocus bloomed to-day Behind full many a gift there lies Bill and I went fishing Bill and Jim drove into town Bill is a mushroom expert Day after day the clock in the tower Dishes to wash and clothes to mend Down the lanes of August Dresses high and dresses low From newsboy to the millionaire Giuseppe Tomassi ees stylisha chap Give me a book and my cozy chair