Newspaper History

Tag: Anonymous

  • When I Am Laid Below the Hill

    From the Albuquerque Morning Journal, July 21, 1915. By Anonymous.

    When I am laid below the hill,
        I pray you, friend, that you will not
    Increase my virtues, if you will,
        Nor let my faults be all forgot.
    But think of me as with you yet,
        The good and bad there is of me,
    For truly I shall not forget
        In whatsoever place I be.

    Nor tears, nor sighs, that I am dead,
        But rather that you sing and smile
    And tell some favored jest, instead,
        As though I heard you all the while.
    For I shall hear you, and shall see
        And know if you be blithe or sad,
    For I shall keep and hold with me
        The golden moments we have had.

    But will you miss me? Aye, forsooth,
        The very thing I’d have you do,
    For in that stranger land, in truth,
        I also shall be missing you.
    Yet life is such a goodly thing,
        Blent of the bitter and the sweet,
    That I would rather we could cling
        To all the gladness we may meet.

    When I am laid below the hill,
        Go back as though I walked with you,
    And sing our brave old ballads still,
        And laugh as we were wont to do.
    Across the little gap that bars
        I shall take this fair memory,
    And you the other side the stars
        Will then still be the friend of me.

  • The Angels’ Whisper

    From The Birmingham Age Herald, April 3, 1914. By Anonymous.

    The baby was sleeping, its mother was weeping,
    For her husband was out on the wild raging sea;
        And the tempest was swelling
        Round the fisherman’s dwelling
    And she cried, “Dermot, darling, O come back to me.”

    Her beads while she numbered, the baby still slumbered,
    And smiled in her face as she bended her knee;
        O blessed be that warning,
        My child thy sleep adorning
    For I know that the Angels are whispering with thee.

    And while they are keeping bright watch o’er thy sleeping,
    O pray to them softly, my baby, with me;
        And say thou would’st rather
        They’d watch o’er thy father
    For I know that the Angels are whispering with thee.

    The dawn of the morning saw Dermot returning,
    And the wife wept with joy her babe’s father to see;
        And closely caressing
        Her child with a blessing
    Said, “I knew that the Angels were whispering with thee.”