Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1904-11-18
The Bye. Bye Chair.

The reign O. dad is the dusky re'gn'
mother may hold the throne
into his own.
Ohio, then. crown O. the tasseled cap. robe
o the dressing gown! ,-
I'm king at night by honest right, though
a slave to trade downtown.
What news is this by Courier Cat? One
marching to destroy?
Invasion led by one o rank-py Emperor
Again it's proved my kingly crown is
parlOus thing to wear.
Here a siege and scaling. ro't and sack oil
And now. retreat! Ny kingly ruse! The
sofa citadel.
What? Mined beneath? Then UP, white
flag! To kingly hopes farewell:
Hold, o bOmbarding cushion nost' yieio
The emperor has won tonight? l live to
do his will.
The victor's terms? Nor harsh are they;
NY tryant. these | gladly yield to such
lord as you.
Now, crib! What. no? Your mG i
Ho, up the stair. Good queen prepare!
Here's Emperor Billy-boy.
May l sit down in Slumber-town ana us
ten to the tunes
That mother voice in Cadence sui aho
Let me sit Down in this dear realm
whose throne is built so 1airw
1
mothers Bye-Bye CHAIR.
I'm hungry for the quaint old songs. old
lullables nv dear.
The Now is dim. the Then shines clear as
am istning mere.
| feel the clasp of mother arms come
round me in the gloom
l seem to hear another voice within the
hallowed room,
The thrill of old-time melodies is in that
mystic sound ooo,n,ss-
The sanctity of Old-time love encompass
eth 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 hcartache followed close upon the
heels of happiness.
But often when solemn song OF woe my
hear. intoned, -
And often when the spirit writhed and all
my nature groaned,
Then stole refrain that softened pain, not
phrased by mortal tongue,
But born of memrie old and sweet-the
songs my mother sung
When in the dusk she helu me close anu
gently Stroked my hair,
And bore me with her down to Sleep in
that old Bye-Bye Chair.
Ny boyhood's friend went wrong today;
the same old story, dear
Temptation. yielding: sin and fall. And
thoughtleSs worldlingS sneer.
But l 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 sir
But ] can measure life by love of mother
to her son;
And God. who knows the human heart.
has mercy. dear. to spare
To 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:
It's blows are blows that Shiver strength;
it smiles to see fall,
1t does not pity, idle tears nor heed
craven'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 chivalry. 1t is not dead. nor honor but
a name,
And bitter scorn he need of him who
brings his mother shame.
Yet ne who barking back to youth, goes
forth and nObly tries
To color life to match the light that
shirfes from mothers eyes.
And he who with his earnest falth MS
after life attunes
To those old songs of honest love his
mother 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-Byc Chair.
Holman F. Day in Pearson's for Decem-
Der.