Page:Near nature's heart; a volume of verse (IA nearnaturesheart00jack).pdf/102

 The public is pleased; 'tis a joy each day To the folks at home, without a way; So why not strike forever more?

For coal and food, let a nation suffer; Let good and bad be made a buffer— Yes, plan to strike forever more.

Our hard-fought war with the hot-headed-Hun Was children's play compared to the fun That strikes produce forever more.

Their wives and children mustn't whine Without their part, 'tis ever so fine, The strikers' way forever more.

Alas, the blind, who makes the broom Has threatened quits till crack of doom— Unless he gets a plenty and more.

And teacher too who trains the child Is asked to join the force that's wild, And close the school forever more!

Let wisdom go—'tis a by-gone game; The striker's god must win his fame— Ah, strike and strike forever more.



"Come now," says God, "and let us reason, In every way, in every season, Bar strikes of force forever more."

NOVEMBER'S GLOOM

With chill November mist in darkened air, With hearts of men imbued with doubt and gloom; And in the wide, wide world no couch, no room; No rest for weary feet; with friends unfair, Or cannot understand, nor yet can bear To bring one bud of friendship's failing bloom; Affection gone that once hailed bride and groom— Ah then, 'tis triumph true, or death's despair.

And yet November's night of gloom and grief Hath unseen power to bring sweet trust, If men but turn their minds of unbelief To One whose name is Love, whose ways are just; Then be the battle sharp and long, or brief, The soul is safe, that sings, "I can and must."