The Bee's Bayonet (a Little Honey and a Little Sting)

Run along, Little Girl, and sweet be your dreams!
Run along, Little Girl, and cover up tight!
There's nothing to harm you, no spooks in the night
Nor Bogeymen glaring when you are awake;
For they're bad little girls that Bogeymen take.

A RETROSPECT

Picture a Home with love aglow and laughter
Reverberating from each joist and rafter;
A sweet-faced Mother kissing you "Good Night"!
With "Go to sleep! lest Santa Claus take fright
And dashes by—leaving no books or toys
For naughty, wide-eyed, little girls and boys."
Then see her tip-toe down the stairs, and trim
The tree—a toy on ev'ry outstretched limb;
The rocking-horse and wagon at the base,
And candy-stockings in the big fireplace:
For thus we retrospect to show, no other
Would scheme and work and "fabricate" like Mother
To make our Christmas Day a grand fruition,
And keep the secret of its sweet tradition.

THE EAGLE SCREAMS

We have arrived! America is First!
Here Freedom cradled; here its pæan burst
Upon the ears of nations, near and far
Till Light of Freedom is the Guiding Star
Thruout the world; though Thraldom still obscures
The Guiding Star where Tyranny endures.
'Twas ever thus till Boston's "Reb" array
Upset King George's teapot in the Bay,
And Pegasus, whom we Revere, astride
His high-bred hobby, warned the countryside.
Before that time the Briton played the game
Of pour la tea or Golf (its proper name).
With confidence and brassie nerve, methinks,
Until they struck a Bunker on our links
That thwarted all their prowess—'pon my soul!
And left them groggy at the nineteenth hole.
But still they puttered 'round and drank our rum
Till Washington's avenging time had come;
When, with his army, steeled at Valley Forge,
He, George the First, uncrowned the other George,
And all the "red-breasts," from our eyries shooed
Where now the Bird of Freedom guards his brood.

THE SERVICE STAR

The stars are agleam in their azurine field,
Diffusing effulgence afar;
But magnitude, lustre and fixedness yield
To the glorious Service Star.

In aureate setting, a pendant aglare,
Is the radiant Service Star;
That blazes with fire like a rare solitaire,
A gift to the Valkyr of War.

Protect thou our treasure, O, Valkyr! Restore
Our Jewel so priceless! and bar
From Valhalla's Dungeons, where Death's torrents pour,
Our sanctified Service Star!

SOME DAY

Some day when the war is ended
And we sail from France away,
With sorrow and longings blended,
Back home to America;
And we live once more in Blighty
A thousand years in a day,
In the Land of God Almighty
Where the Old Folks watch and pray:
Some day, when we hit the pillow
Again on a box-spring bed,
As snug as an armadillo
With his shell-protected head;
When bugles refrain from tooting,
And noises of battle stop;
When victory ends recruiting,
Or charging Over the Top:
Some day! when we're thru with fighting
And the beaten Hun retreats;
When the Cooties cease from biting
And we sleep between the sheets!

THE CRUISE OF THE SEA SERPENT

And now behold the Merchant Submarine!
Only its peeking periscope is seen,
But what a cyclorama it reveals
To those below! Thru surging seas it steals
And vies with dolphins, porpoises and sharks
To keep apace with brigantines and barks;
And, tho itself unseen, it's proud to show
To what low depths a submarine can go.
The Cyclops sees as well by night as day;