Page 80

{78
(The Rochambeau, con.)}

The Sec’y is aware of the fact that her minutes
are entirely unworthy of the occasion and
she has resolved to be more prompt henceforth
in writing the notes out very soon after the
mtg., when a reference in easily understood.
Later, memory is apt to prove a poor dependence
as was the case this month.

(14 members present). Mary Bentley Thomas, Sec’y

* “Our Mothers”, - by Hallie J. Bentley
Our mothers met, we honor the day,
Just 50 years ago
Picture our mothers, as best we may
Just 50 years ago.
Faces and hearts alike were young,
The song of Spring was the song they sung
And little children around them clung,
Just 50 years ago.

The joy of one meant joy for all,
For half a hundred years
And sorrows shared, both great and small,
For half a hundred years.
The ties that bind the living and dead
But wax the closer as years have fled,
Heart bound to heart by a golden thread,
For half a hundred years.

For “mutual aid” full well they planned
For half a hundred years
To others extended the helping hand
For half a hundred years.
A hopeful thought, some verses new,
To find the beautiful, good and true,
Some heart to cheer some kindness do,
For half a hundred years.

Our mothers have passed to the better land
In half a hundred years,
We vainly long for “the vanished hand”,
Ah! half a hundred years!
When we meet again in a sunnier clime,
We shall know again, with a thrill sublime,
The “mother love” that outlasts Time,
In half a hundred years.”

78
(The Rochambeau, con.)

The Sec’y is aware of the fact that her minutes
are entirely unworthy of the occasion and
she has resolved to be more prompt henceforth
in writing the notes out very soon after the
mtg., when a reference in easily understood.
Later, memory is apt to prove a poor dependence
as was the case this month.

(14 members present). Mary Bentley Thomas, Sec’y

* “Our Mothers”, - by Hallie J. Bentley
Our mothers met, we honor the day,
Just 50 years ago
Picture our mothers, as best we may
Just 50 years ago.
Faces and hearts alike were young,
The song of Spring was the song they sung
And little children around them clung,
Just 50 years ago.

The joy of one meant joy for all,
For half a hundred years
And sorrows shared, both great and small,
For half a hundred years.
The ties that bind the living and dead
But wax the closer as years have fled,
Heart bound to heart by a golden thread,
For half a hundred years.

For “mutual aid” full well they planned
For half a hundred years
To others extended the helping hand
For half a hundred years.
A hopeful thought, some verses new,
To find the beautiful, good and true,
Some heart to cheer some kindness do,
For half a hundred years.

Our mothers have passed to the better land
In half a hundred years,
We vainly long for “the vanished hand”,
Ah! half a hundred years!
When we meet again in a sunnier clime,
We shall know again, with a thrill sublime,
The “mother love” that outlasts Time,
In half a hundred years.”