CHAPTER III.

We boys had hopefully crossed the Rubicon, And entered the arena, the battle of life; An ensanguined field, where millions of men Engage in the ruthless, pitiless strife. Glowing pictures of the world beyond had reached us, Alluring our tender, untried feet to roam; And we grew ambitious and unsatisfied, And wandered away from the dear old home.

Out on the highway, the strange highway of life, We joined in the conflict, with hope beating high, Heeding not the mutterings of the storm afar, As it darkened along the edge of the sky. We saw not the foes that lurked by the wayside, We knew not the road was so dreary and long; We only were eager to join in the conflict For wealth and fair fame with the ravenous throng.

But our paths diverged, and my brother and I Parted, to meet in this life nevermore; And a lonesomeness and heartache came unto me, A poor wanderer; and weird shadows stealing o’er The way that I must go with pain and vague regret; And haunting dreams of the loved ones and of home Were ever with me in the conflict’s surging tide, Where I strove for victory unsupported and alone.

And brother Jack went on the sea, And sailed its blue depths far and wide, In quest of wealth and tempting fame To crown his patient waiting bride. Many a day hath passed away Since Molly Dean watched on the shore, With fading face and weary eye, For brother Jack will come no more.

Far, far away on southern seas The wild typhoon in fury fell; Of Jack’s good ship and gallant crew Not one was spared the tale to tell. They say ’twas at the eventime, When sunset’s glory crowns the lea, They found poor stricken Molly Dean In her last sleep beside the sea.

And when the summer time had faded And bird songs no longer were gay, Minnie Lee drooped low like the lilies And peacefully passed away. They laid her to rest where the roses And lilies in summer may bloom; And the winds softly sigh to the daisies That modestly mantle her tomb.

By the shores of a western sea Dwelt sister Nell and Lawrence Dare; For them the skies were ever clear, And all the world was kindly fair. But in the old house by the stream, The old folks mourned from day to day; In loss and loneliness they pined, And faded swift from earth away.

And they are resting side by side, Near Minnie Lee and Molly Dean, In the still city of repose, Near to the margin of the stream. Sleep on! sleep on! oh, loved and lost, The lonesome winds around thee sigh; Sleep through the years we trust will bring A never-ending “by and by.”