The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1904-11-24
TIE BYE-BYE CHAIR.
BY HOLMAN DAY.

I
The reign O. dad is the dusky reign mother
may hold the throne
All the day, but, tea away, daddy comes
! into his own
/ Ohio, then, crown o. the tasseled cap, robe
O. the dressing gown!
Pm king at night by honest right, though a
slave to trade downtown.
What news is this by Courier Cat? One
marching to destroy?
1nvasI S?1,.l led ID by one o. rank-by Emperor
Again its proved my kingly crown is
parlOus thing to wear,
Here's siege and scaling, rOut and sack of
Fortress Easy Chair.
And now, retreat! My kingly ruse! The
sofa citadel.
What? Mined beneath? Then up white
flag! To kingly hopes farewell!
Hold, o bombarding cushion host, yield
to puissant Bill.
The emperor has won tonight! live to do
his will.
The victor's terms? Nor harsh are they;a
kiss, a toss or two.
My tyrant. these l gladly yield to such
Now, crib! What, no? Your mothers arms?
grant the boon with joy.
Ho, up the stair! Good queen, prepare!
Here's Emperor Billy-bOy.
May l sit down in Slumber-tOwn and listen
to the tunes
AHdt mOtneT voice III cdueuce sou ana
tender accents crOons?
Let me sit down in this dear realm whose
throne is built so fair
The throne no man may e'er dispute-a
mothers Bye-Bye Chair.
Pm hungry for the quaint old songs, old
lullabies, my dear!
The Now is dim, the Then shines clear as
am list'ning here.
feel the clasp of mother arms come round
me IN the gloom,
l seem to hear another voice within this
The thrill of old-time melodies is in that
mystic sound,
The sanctity of od-time love encompasseth
me round.
The World at times has beat me back in
battles | have fought,
Not always has the god Success touched
tasks in which l wrought
Full oft has Fortune dealt a blow instead of
bent to bless,
And heartache followed close upon the
heels of happiness.
But often when solemn song of woe my
heart intOned,
And often when the spirit wrthed and all
my nature groaned,
Then stole refrains that softened pain, not
phraSed by mortal tongue,
But born of mem'ries old and sweet-the
songs my mother sung
When in the dusk she held me close and
gently stroked my hair,
And bore ME with her down to Sleep in that
old Bye-Bye Chair.
My boyhood's friend went wrong to-day:
the same old story, DEAR
Temptation, yielding, sin and fall. And
thOughtleSS wordlingS sheer.
But who sit here by your side and hear
you sing tonight,
And gaze behind me on the years with love
and faith alight,
do not pride my faltring feet upon the
race they've made,
but search my heart and bless the part that
mother love has played.
l know he lacked the mother hands that
fondly press and mold,
l know he lacked the mother smile that
turns the dross to gold;
And at the crossroads where the tracks of
Right and Wrong are dim
There was no shining mother light to point
the way to him.
The callous cynics of the world gage sin by
what is done,
But can measure life by love of mother to
her son;
And God, who knows the human heart, has
mercy, dear, to spare
10 him whose soul-strength was not won in
mothers Bye-Bye Chair.
Sleep, little boy-my Billy-boy The World
is just outside.
1t does not fight the pillow fight it's stern
in wrath and pride.
Its blows are blows that SILVER strength it
smiles to see fall;
1t does not pity idle tears nor heed era
ven's call.
Yet victory is not to him who wantonly
gives pain,
Who wrests their weapons from the weak
and tramples on the slain.
For chlvalry, it is not dead, nor honor but
name,
And bitter scorn be need of him who brings
his mother shame.
let ne who, barking back to youth, goes
forth and nobly tries
To color life to match the light that shines
from mothers eyes,
And ne who with his earnest faith his after
life attunes
To those old songs of honest love his moth
err softly croons,
May walk adown the ways of Life, and in
his daily prayer
Thank God that all his best was born in
that old Bye-Bye Chair.-Pearson's
for December.