The Broncho book Being Buck Jumps in Verse

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He saw his duty. Who can tell How much we loved him in the West? But He, who doeth all things well, To his tired soul had whispered, "Rest. " When last I gazed into his face His dear, dead face, so truly kind, A halo seemed to light the place, For God had left the smile behind. And hardy miners bowed their heads And felons wiped a tear away, And fever patients in their beds Were conscious of a loss that day.
108 THE BRONCHO BOOK God's martyr His adopted son He died, dear friends, for you and me
... ; He surely died as Christ had done In love, in truth, in poverty. I crave not wealth nor care for fame, Nor wealth nor fame do I begrudge, But, Lord, permit me once again To clasp the hand of Father Judge.
When Ben King Died ^fc* ROM out the sunny, flowery South The fateful message swiftly sped, And quickly flew from mouth to mouth In trembling tones, "Ben King is dead!" As thunder from the clearest sky It came, and no one tried to hide The tears which trembled in each eye When Ben King died.
His last soft-spoken, low farewell Yet echoing lingered in our ears, When came the wire-flashed words to tell The story of his death, and tears 109 THE B R O N C HOB O O K Welled up in eyes unused to weep, As spray from love's soft-rolling tide, For one we loved sank into sleep When Ben King died.


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