ren know it--there's a lot that they mustn't touch.

It's hands off the grand piano, keep out of the finest chair,
Stay out of the stylish parlor, don't run on the shiny stair;
You may look at the velvet curtains which hang in the stately hall,
But always and ever remember, they're not to be touched at all.

"Don't touch!" for an art museum, is proper enough, I know,
But my children's feet shall scamper wherever they want to go,
And I want no rare possessions or a joy which has cost so much,
From which I must bar the children and tell them they "mustn't touch."

THE HARDER PART

It's mighty hard for Mother--I am busy through the day
And the tasks of every morning keep the gloomy thoughts away,
And I'm not forever meeting with a slipper or a gown
To remind me of our sorrow when I'm toiling in the town.
But with Mother it is different--there's no minute she is free
From the sight of things which tell her of the joy which used to be.

She is brave and she is faithful, and we say we're reconciled,
But your hearts are always heavy once you've lost a little child;
And a man can face his sorrow in a manly sort of way,
For his grief must quickly leave him when he's busy through the day;
But the mother's lot is harder--she must learn to sing and smile
Though she's living in the presence of her sorrow all the while.

Through the room where love once waited she must tip-toe day by day,
She must see through every window where the baby used to play,
And there's not a thing she touches, nor a task she finds to do,
But it sets her heart to aching and begins the hurt anew.
Oh, a man can turn from sorrow, for his mind is occupied,
But the mother's lot is harder--grief is always at her side.

YOUTH

If I had youth I'd bid the world to try me;
I'd answer every challenge to my will.
Though mountains stood in silence to defy me,
I'd try to make them subject to my skill.
I'd keep my dreams and follow where they led me;
I'd glory in the hazards which abound.
I'd eat the simple fare privations fed me,
And gladly make my couch upon the ground.

If I had youth I'd ask no odds of distance,
Nor wish to tread the known and level ways.
I'd want to meet and master strong resistance,
And in a worth-while struggle spend my days.
I'd seek the task which calls for full endeavor;
I'd feel the thrill of battle in my veins.
I'd bear my burden gallantly, and never
Desert the hills to walk on common plains.

I