And along some sunny way
Lead me through an April-shower
Of my tears to this fair hour.

O the present is too sweet
To go on forever thus!
Round the corner of the street
Who can say what waits for us?--
Meeting--greeting, night and day,
Faring each the selfsame way--
Still somewhere the path must end--
Reach your hand to me, my friend!

[Illustration: Reach your hand to me--tailpiece]

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[Illustration: The dead joke and the funny man--headpiece]

THE DEAD JOKE AND THE FUNNY MAN

Long years ago, a funny man,
Flushed with a strange delight,
Sat down and wrote a funny thing
All in the solemn night;
And as he wrote he clapped his hands
And laughed with all his might.
For it was such a funny thing,
O, such a very funny thing,
This wonderfully funny thing,
He
Laughed
Outright.

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And so it was this funny man
Printed this funny thing--
Forgot it, too, nor ever thought
It worth remembering,
Till but a day or two ago.
(Ah! what may changes bring!)
He found this selfsame funny thing
In an exchange--"O, funny thing!"
He cried, "You dear old funny thing!"
And
Sobbed
Outright.

[Illustration: The dead joke and the funny man--tailpiece]

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[Illustration: America's Thanksgiving--headpiece]

AMERICA'S THANKSGIVING

1900

Father all bountiful, in mercy bear
With this our universal voice of prayer--
The voice that needs must be
Upraised in thanks to Thee,
O Father, from Thy children everywhere.

A multitudinous voice, wherein we fain
Wouldst have Thee hear no lightest sob of pain--
No murmur of distress,
Nor moan of loneliness,
Nor drip of tears, though soft as summer rain.

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And, Father, give us first to comprehend,
No ill can come from Thee; lean Thou and lend
Us clearer sight to see
Our boundless debt to Thee,
Since all Thy deeds are blessings, in the end.

And let us feel and know that, being Thine,
We are inheritors of hearts divine,
And hands endowed with skill,
And strength to work Thy will,
And fashion to fulfilment Thy design.

So, let us thank Thee, with all self aside,
Nor any lingering taint of mortal pride;
As here to Thee we dare
Uplift our faltering prayer,
Lend it some fervor of the glor