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Show Trill WORLD'S SONS. I'.'s a rreat old world, for all its cares t'irh-3 arc! sarrjws, ai.U par.gu ar.d i rayers. Under tho hCkvcriB, gltd crcrr.y, U rcl.s a.l.-r.s la the Judgmert Day, Ar.d Blv.s in the li&ht of tht Ur.soen's face: "I boar the burdens of race on race Ar.d wh!rl the dust cf the dead through space'" It's a great eld world, with its hopes and feais ricasuris, treasures and scalding tears: I: carcfh r. aught for darkened skies If Its r. :;i?all set, or Its sun shall rla: Jf star.: . . !i 1 lir.d from the Unseen's face "Forev . forever O fading race, I whlri the Uu3t cf your dead through apace!" It'o a great old world Draw near, O sweet! There is rain on the roses at ycur feet; 'What shall earth care for the pangs you bear? Lean your lips to the roses, dear! Ivet tho lljht kiss the night of tears from your face: Hark to the singing: "O fading race, I am bearing your beautiful dust through space!" It's a creat old world! Let us live, and! trrst That life is more than a rose In dust; That the lowliest flower at our feet, liven with the thorn, is sweet Is sweet! There's the red o' the rose, sweetheart, 'in your face, And the morn's In your eyes! (O fading raco 1 am bearing your beautiful dust through apace!") Frank L. Stanton, In Atlanta Constitution. |