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John Bartlett (1820–1905). Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. 1919.

Page 811

John (Milton) Hay. (1838–1905) (continued)
    He were n’t no saint—but at jedgment
  I’d run my chance with Jim.
’Longside of some pious gentlemen
  That would n’t shook hands with him.
He seen his duty, a dead-sure thing—
  And went for it thar and then;
And Christ ain’t a-going to be too hard
  On a man that died for men.
          Jim Bludso.
    At my door the Pale Horse stands
To carry me to unknown lands.
          The Stirrup Cup.
    The people will come to their own at last,—
  God is not mocked forever.
          The Sphynx of the Tuileries.
    I think that saving a little child
  And bringing him to his own,
Is a derned sight better business
  Than loafing around the throne.
          Little Breeches.
Margaret Elizabeth Sangster. (1838–1912)
    I know—yet my arms are empty,
  That fondly folded seven,
And the mother heart within me
  Is almost starved for heaven.
          Are the Children at Home.
    Never yet was a springtime,
  Late though lingered the snow,
That the sap stirred not at the whisper
  Of the southwind, sweet and low;
Never yet was a springtime
  When the buds forgot to blow.