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General Manager Webster Woolen Co. | General Manager Webster Woolen Co. | ||
| − | + | IN Scotland, many years ago, a boy of ten | |
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Took up the weaver's work along with men. | Took up the weaver's work along with men. | ||
| − | The way was hard, the | + | The way was hard, the boy was strong and true; |
| − | He saw the only way | + | He saw the only way and saw it bravely, too; |
And time did broaden it unto the boy of ten | And time did broaden it unto the boy of ten | ||
And stretched it fair for him to walk with Men. | And stretched it fair for him to walk with Men. | ||
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| − | + | How well he's walked—results do best attest:— | |
| + | A life of high ideals, of living for the best; | ||
| + | Industry, courage, hope—that sterling stock-in-trade | ||
| + | By which in best of ways, the best of men are made— | ||
| + | A seeker for the truth, along all economic lines, | ||
| + | A man of large affairs; a student of the times. | ||
| − | + | May I be pardoned—do you scent bouquets? | |
| + | He will not like them—never fond of praise— | ||
| + | But here in Maine, where he has come so near | ||
| + | To being of us, with us year, by year, | ||
| + | We run the risk—and since his heart and brain | ||
| + | Appeal so strongly to us men of Maine, | ||
| + | We override those feelings, truly his | ||
| + | And write him fairly—as we know he is. | ||
Latest revision as of 18:12, 25 May 2017
ROBERT BLEAKIE, Hyde Park, Mass., President and General Manager Webster Woolen Co.
IN Scotland, many years ago, a boy of ten Took up the weaver's work along with men. The way was hard, the boy was strong and true; He saw the only way and saw it bravely, too; And time did broaden it unto the boy of ten And stretched it fair for him to walk with Men.
How well he's walked—results do best attest:— A life of high ideals, of living for the best; Industry, courage, hope—that sterling stock-in-trade By which in best of ways, the best of men are made— A seeker for the truth, along all economic lines, A man of large affairs; a student of the times.
May I be pardoned—do you scent bouquets? He will not like them—never fond of praise— But here in Maine, where he has come so near To being of us, with us year, by year, We run the risk—and since his heart and brain Appeal so strongly to us men of Maine, We override those feelings, truly his And write him fairly—as we know he is.