Oh, if the dead grieve, it is not for their fate, For death comes to all of us early or late, But their sighs of regret and their burdens of sorrow Are born of the joys they'd have scattered to-morrow. Do the friends they'd have cheered know the thoughts of the dead? Do they treasure to-day the last words that were said? What mem'ries would sweeten, what hearts cease to burn, If but for a day the dead friends could return! We know not the hour that our summons shall come; We know not the time that our voice shall be dumb, Yet even as they, to our ultimate sorrow, We leave much that's fine for that doubtful to-morrow. Tommy Atkins' Way He was battle-scarred and ugly with the marks of shot and shell, And we knew that British Tommy had a stirring tale to tell, So we asked him where he got it and what disarranged his face, And he answered, blushing scarlet: "In a nawsty little place." There were medals on his jacket, but he wouldn't tell us why. "A bit lucky, gettin' this one," was the sum of his reply. He had fought a horde of Prussians with his back against the wall, And he told us, when we questioned: "H'it was nothing arfter h'all." Not a word of what he'd suffered, not a word of what he'd seen, Not a word about the fury of the hell through which he'd been. All he said was: "When you're cornered, h'and you've got no plyce to go, You've just got to stand up to it! You cawn't 'elp yourself, you know. "H'it was just a bit unpleasant, when the shells were droppin' thick," And he tapped his leather leggins with his little bamboo stick. "What did H'I do? Nothing, really! Nothing more than just my share; Some one h'else would gladly do it, but H'I 'appened to be there." When this sturdy British Tommy quits the battlefields of earth And St. Peter asks his spirit to recount his deeds of worth, I fancy I can hear him, with his curious English drawl, Saying: "Nothing, nothing really, that's worth mentioning at h'all." The Right Family With time our notions allus change, An' years make old idees seem strange-- Take Mary there--time was when she Thought one child made a family, An' when our eldest, Jim, was born She used to say, both night an' morn': "One little one to love an' keep, To guard awake, an' watch asleep; To bring up right an' lead him through Life's path is all we ought to do." Two years from then our Jennie came, But Mary didn't talk the same; "Now that's just right," she said to me, "We've got the proper family-- A boy an' girl, God sure is good; It seems as though He understood That I've been hopin' every way To have a little girl some day; Sometimes I've prayed the whole night through-- One ain't enough; we needed two."