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Show The Rambling Rhymster By LES PLETTNER Blare of the Trump'ets For few is the blare of the trumpets; For few is the high degree. For few is the glaring headline. That all who can read may see. For few are the higher places, Where the white light beats always al-ways down; Where fate 'can deal nought but aces. And man may wear jeweled crown. For most is the walk of living In humble and obscure ob-scure spot Where one his day's work is doing Content with a minor lot, With knowledge that he is striving The best that bis skill affords, And thinking to envy never The great ones who tread the boards. Yet some of the best and greatest To us has it oft occurred Are those who have made no headlines, head-lines, Of whom none has ever heard. For them will no blare of trumpets Resound when the battle's won, But triumph will be as precious As any when day is done. |