Welsh Journals

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that will not be known on earth-such a record made the evening of his life a happy one, but it was one not unmixed with sorrow, for on Decem- ber 20th, 1927, his devoted wife, for 52 years his partner and helpmate, passed to her reward-a lady whose sweet memory will long remain. COL. C. H. DARBISHIRE OF THE PENMAENMAWR & WELSH GRANITE COMPANY WHEN they brought him his golden lyre, The Colonel reached for his hat: "I had rather go straight to the fire Than strum on a thing like that." And he stamped down the golden pavement Till he shocked the orthodox good But St. Peter came to meet him, St. Peter understood. "Oh have you no work, St. Peter, That a man like me could do? I can't be twanging harpstrings All Eternity through. "Or, better still, have you battles In the service of the Lord?, My garments are peaceful garments, But I still have my trusty sword. "Have you any weak cause to succour Have you any wrongs to right ? Though I can't be a blessed minstrel, By God! I still can fight; "Have you any tyrants to vanquish? Have you any knaves to quell? I fought them on earth, Simon Peter, And I'll fight them here as well. But St. Peter sighed somewhat sadly: "Nay, here is Eternal Calm, And a crown instead of a helmet, And instead of the sword the palm." "Then have you in Heaven, St. Peter, Among the souls that you bless Any that still may hunger Or are broken by pain and distress? "My chiefest joy was to. seek them And help them again and again." "They hunger no more," said St. Peter, "And there shall be no more pain." "Let me make for the children a playground With a hut for games and treats!" "Nay, the boys and girls of this City Play safely in the streets." IN MEMORIAM In his 86th year, crowned thus with the satis- faction of a race well run, the call to a higher life came suddenly on the 23rd of December last, and on the 27th of that month he was laid to rest with his beloved wife in the beautiful cemetery of Dwygyfylchi. I.E.D. "Then open the gate, St. Peter, For you've nothing for me to do. I can't sit down and idle All Eternity through." At the Gates of Pfearl St. Peter He fitted his key in the lock. Outside was a vasty desert And beyond the desert a rock. "Now what is that rock, St. Peter? And has this desert a well?" "Tis the Desert of Destruction, And beyond that rock is Hell. "There are Sloughs of Despond in the Desert And crooked places and rough, No barriers shut in the wretched; This Desert is enough. "But the King and His Son they would sally To rescue those spirits in pain; And they look for a good Roadmaker, That can make rough places plain, "To pave a way for their Chariot, And a way for the children of hate To march in the Royal Triumph, When the crooked has been made straight. Then the old man's face flashed glory Ashe winked at St. Peter's smile; "They can keep their blessed harpstrings, But this is a job worth while. "So give me my old Welsh quarrymen, —All that in Heaven do dwell, And give me your Holy Dynamite, And we'll blast you a road to Hell. "And we'llpave with Eternal Granite; -You shall hear our sledgehammers ring, Till the Desert carries a Highway For the Chariot of the Kingl" And I saw him march out his workmen With theodolite and sword, Still on his grand old mission, -Preparing the Way of the Lord. CYNAN.