By the Sea and Other Verses Part 2
Six-and-thirty souls immortal, Coming to be fed; Needing "food convenient for them,"
As their daily bread.
Bright and happy little children, Innocent and free, Coming here their life-long lessons Now to learn of me.
Listen to the toilsome routine, List, and answer them, For these things who is sufficient 'Mong the sons of men?
Now they, at the well-known summons, Cease their busy hum; And, some with pleasure, some reluctant, To the school-room come.
Comes a cunning little urchin With defiant eye, "Making music" with his marbles As he pa.s.ses by.
But, alas! the pretty toys are Taken from him soon, And the music-loving Willie Strikes another tune!
Comes a lisping little beauty, Scarce five summers old; Baby voice and blue eyes pleading, "Please, misth, I'm stho cold!"
Little one, the world is chilly, All too cold for thee; From its storms "Our Father" shield thee, And thy refuge be.
While I turn to caution Johnny Not to make such noise; Mary pa.r.s.es: "Earth's an adverb, In the pa.s.sive voice."
Well, indeed, it must be pa.s.sive, Else it is not clear How such open language-murder, Goes unpunished here.
"Second Reader Cla.s.s" reciting-- "Lesson verse or prose?"
None in all the cla.s.s is certain; Each one thinks he knows.
"Well," is queried then, "the difference Who can now define?"
Answers Rob: "In verse they never Finish out the line!"
Boy, thy thought doth strangely thrill me, And as hours roll on, Hears my heart a solemn query: Is my day's work done?
Do I make of this my life-task Prose or idle rhyme?
Do I in the sight of Heaven Finish out the line?
Oh, it is "too fine a knowledge"
For our mortal sight, All these restless little creatures How to lead aright.
He who prayeth while he worketh, Taking lessons still Of the Friend of little children, Learning all His will;
He alone can walk before them Worthily and well; He alone of life's strange language Can the meaning tell.
May I then with heart as tender As a little child Lead my flock; and Father, keep them Pure and undefiled.
PEACE
O blessed peace, that floweth like a river, Unstayed, unwearied, ever on and on; That hath its fount and spring in Christ the giver, And finds its ocean round the great white Throne.
O peace of G.o.d, that pa.s.seth understanding, Thou art the answer to my soul's long quest; Doubts, fears and sins, their serried hosts disbanding, I leave, launch on thy wave, and anch.o.r.ed, rest.
BOYS AND GIRLS
We were "seven in all," as the dear rustic maid To the poet so sweetly protested; And together we rambled and studied and played, Each imbibing a share of the sunshine and shade Wherewith our young life was invested.
And black eyes and blue eyes and brown eyes and gray Looked up to the face of our mother, As she led us in study in labor or play, Or told of "Our Father," and taught us to pray, And to cherish and love one another.
O, the rapture of being when life is a-tune With the song-life and beauty of morning; When the roseate dawn brightens into the noon, And the year hastens on to the splendor of June, In her fragrance and matchless adorning.
So our years flitted by and the youngest of all-- Our dark-eyed and fun-loving brother-- Was grown to be manly and lithesome and tall, And to couteous t.i.tles we answered the call, But were still "boys" and "girls" to each other.
O, the joy of endeavor, endurance and toil On thro' summer-time vigor and sweetness, Of triumph o'er that which would hinder or foil, Of the patience of hope after tears and turmoil, In the glory of autumn's completeness.
And the toil and the turmoil and tears have been ours-- From our ranks we have missed a loved brother We've encountered the thorns, but we've cherished the flowers; We've pa.s.sed under the clouds on to sunnier hours, And we're still "boys" and "girls" to each other.
A SMILE
The gliding of a fairy form And rosy lips that knew no guile, With wonder parted, came to ask, "Papa, what is a smile?"
A smile, whate'er it is, then stole That gentle parent's features o'er; For ne'er to him had been proposed Query so strange before.
But while he pondered in his heart How he should to his child reply, A new, triumphant joy lit up Her loving, l.u.s.trous eye;--
And with this gladsome, new-found thought, She answered in her own behalf: "Oh, now, I know; a smile must be _The whisper to a laugh!_"
"A SPARROW ALONE ON THE HOUSETOP"
Sing, little sparrow, sing thy song.
No peril neareth thee; Tho night be dark or day be long, Or clouds hang low, sing on, sing on, The dear G.o.d heareth thee.
Sing, little bird, whate'er befall-- Trill out thine utmost need; Thou canst not soar, thou canst not fall But He will note who knoweth all, And He thy plaint will heed.
O little sparrow, far and high Thy soft notes G.o.d-ward go, And I with thee send up my cry, And both shall somewhere find reply, _G.o.d careth for us so._
TO MOTHER
O mother, from thy home beyond the stars Hast thou not known the yearning of thy child For thy sweet love? Hast thou not heard her wild And piteous moaning for thy soft caress?
Felt her heart's aching for the tenderness And the low patience of thy loving voice?
Hast thou not seen her 'mid life's toils and jars, Pant as a bird behind its prison bars, For freedom to fly forth and be with thee?
And canst thou not, sweet mother, send reply?
Oh, thro' the depths of glory, thro' the sky, Look for one moment down and say to me That all of loss on earth thou findest to be Great gain in heaven; that thou dost rejoice In all that was, and is, and shall betide At last to all; and that, in Him who died, Yet liveth evermore, I, too, shall see All discord blended into harmony; And that I, too, shall be, as thou art, satisfied.