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Show Not Going Home j He'll not go borne this year, alas! to where the old foJlts are, to gaze j across the withered grass upon the j hills afar; he will not clamber from I the train with bosom thrilled with j(Jy j to hear the glad words once against ! "Ah, welcome home, my boy!" i Ah, yes, the old home stands today just as It did of yore, and oftentimes ; his thoughts will stray back" to the big front door, and he will rous uor? the times when he hailed It as home ere he sojourned In foreign cllrnes oi beat across the foam. With weary head upon his hand.-he'll hand.-he'll dream about the lane, about the climbing rose whose Btrands tapped on the window pane; about the rambling ram-bling little street that idled through the town where often have his boyish feet In gladness hurried down. He'll not go home this year, aL though the old folks still are there-, although the songs of long ago still echo free and fair; he'll eat Thanks- .' giving dinner here, and not go home, 4 alas, because the laws are strict thl J year and he can't get a pass. |