TRAFALGAR DAY.
Laurels, bring laurels, sheaves on sheaves. Till England's boughs are bare of loaves ! Soon oomeß tho flower more rare, more dear Than any laurel this year weaves — The Aloe of the hundredth year Since from the smoke of Trafalgar He passed to where the heroes areNelson, who passed and yet iR here, Whose dust is fire beneath our feet, Whose memory mans our fleet. Laurels, bring laurels, since they hold Hib England's tears in each green fold. His England's joy, his England's pride, His England's glories manifold. Yet what was Victory since he died? And what was Death Binoo he lives yet. Above a nation's worship set Above her heroes glorified ?—? — Nelson, who rnado our flag a star To lead where Victories are. —Pall Mall Gazette. THE SLUG AND THE STABLING. "Will you be mine?" said the slug to the starling, " Will you be mine on this sweet summer day? Sing to mo sweetly, and call me your darling, And let us be happy, and hoppy, and gay !" " You shall bo mine," said the starling, replyine ; " Yon shall be mino on this s"weet summer day. Sing Hey-terry-rerry," and down he went flying. And gobbled the «<lug without further delay.
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Bibliographic details
Evening Post, Volume LIII, Issue 1, 2 January 1897, Page 2
Word Count
201TRAFALGAR DAY. Evening Post, Volume LIII, Issue 1, 2 January 1897, Page 2
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