In a few of these poems, dialect has been chosen as the form of expression. One of this type has been selected for this reading. It illustrates the fact that in these simple acts of community effort to do the constructive, there always comes more joy than can come from the polished product of practised art. Naturally we expect one who loved the beauty of the landscape and the color of petal and the fragrance of flower to be more or less of a Nature poet. To him Nature is the great teacher of God's handiwork, and imparts to us solace and joy. Mr. Rexford has also chosen to disregard the life of the city for the life of the country village, where every individual to the youngest school child may know him and reverence him for his kindly helpfulness. He loves the humble worker in the common walks of life. "The Two Singers" given later will illustrate his theory of usefulness. He does not conceal the presence of evil, nor does he condone it, but he does show the great strength which may be attained through resistance of it. The unfruitful tree illustrates this point. Mr. Rexford has always been a great lover of music. He has led the village choir and he has played the organ at the church service for many years. He has written not merely the words that he sings, but he has also set many of his little lyrics to music. When the village school has needed a song for a special program, when the church service has been in special need, or when the Memorial Day program could be rendered more sacredly helpful by his music, Mr. Rexford has always been ready to assist. He has kindly consented to our publishing his famous song, "Silver Threads Among the Gold," and its sequel, "When Silver Threads are Gold Again." THE OLD VILLAGE CHOIR All of these poems are reprinted with consent of the author and the J. B. Lippincott Publishing Co. I have be'n in city churches where the way-up singers sing, Till their thousand'-dollar voices make the very rafters ring. Seems as if the sound kep' clim'in' till it got lost in the spire, But I all the time was wishin' 'twas our dear ol' village choir. Somehow, highfallutin' singin' never seemed to touch the spot Like the ol' religious singin' o' the times I hain't forgot; Jest the ol' hymns over'n over--nothin' city folks desire, But some heart was in the singin' of that same ol' village choir. Nothin' airy 'bout the singers--land; they never tho't o' style, But they made you think o' Heaven an' of good things all the while, Made you feel as ef the angels couldn't help a comin' nigher Jest to lis'en to the music made by that ol' village choir.