THE MOTHER’S PLEA.
It is my little baby,
Now lying fast asleep.
Her brow with wrinkles furrowed.—
O angels guard and keep
My precious, precious baby.—
For her I’d gladly die
To save her life from sorrow,—
For grief is ever nigh.
Now ope thine eyes my baby,
And gaze thou into mine.
If thou dost love me darling,
Thine arms around me twine.
I loved thee O my baby
Before thou camst to earth.
I longed for thy dear coming,
I longed for baby’s birth.
Thou wert a gift from heaven,
And selfishly I cling
To thee my precious baby.
No sorrow dost thou bring.
Dost know that ’tis thy mother
That’s speaking to thee now?
If so, the little wrinkles
Will vanish from thy brow.
Look up to me my baby,
And put thy hands in mine.
Dost thou not know, my precious!
That for thy love I pine?
Was’t kind in me, thy mother
To give to thee earth-life?
With all of its wild turmoil,
And all of its fierce strife.
If life shouldst be a burden,
No joy in it for thee,
Will future life repay thee?
And I forgiven be?
Will heaven be compensation
For all of earthly care?
Wilt thou forgive thy mother
For all that thou must bear?
In vain is all my pleading—
Alas! it is too late,—
For thou must bear life’s burdens,
And thou must meet thy fate.—
But, angels guard, and keep thee,
This is thy mother’s prayer.
At last to heaven take thee;
To meet thy mother there.
TO A FRIEND.
O thou fair daughter of a northern clime!
To thee, dear heart, I dedicate my rhyme.
Dost know that life to thee shouldst be sublime?
Though thou hast many problems yet to face,
Thou wilt not fall, nor falter in the race.
Nor e’en the smallest thing in life debase.
“New England” blood is coursing through my veins,
No evil deed, nor thought, thy pure heart stains.
Thy life is melody,—not sad refrains.—
In brightest life, some shadows there will be.
If thou dost bear these shadows cheerfully,
The clouds will break, and sunshine come to thee.
Not having burdens of thine own to bear,
Thou must be willing others’ griefs to share,
There are enough for all, and some to spare.
If this thou doest uncomplainingly
Thou wilt be blest throughout eternity.
TIME WAITS FOR NO MAN.
O father Time one moment tarry!
I have so much, so much to do,
And death will find my work unfinished,
For every day brings something new.
O Time, dear Time, what doth it matter?
A month, a year, is naught to thee,
But hours, minutes, even seconds,
To me doth make eternity.
Much time I feel that I have squandered;
So many hours, so many years.—
The misspent time that now confronts me
Will ever cause me bitter tears.
Life is so sweet when breaks the morning,
But groweth bitter by the noon;
By night I am so worn and weary,
E’en death doth seem to me a boon.
O Time give back my happy childhood,
And I will bless thee ever, aye;
My every task with joy performing;
And not from duty will I stray.
E’en Time seemed filled with deepest pity,
But cried, “O man, it is too late
To save the years that thou hast squandered;
So I must leave thee to thy fate.”
“Farewell O man! I must not tarry;
Long years ago my work began.
In vain, in vain is all thy pleading
For Time and Tide wait not for man.”
Farewell then Time, farewell for ever;
For there is naught but death for me.
A slave I have been to thee ever,
But now, in dying, I am free.
TIDE WAITS FOR NO MAN.
O Tide, O Tide, just wait one moment,
My ship is not prepared to sail;
She must be manned with sailors trusty,
Equipped to meet the coming gale.
It turned, and looking back a moment,
In angry waves this speech began:
“I cannot listen to thy pleading,
I cannot wait for any man.”
It turned and left me at my mooring,
And seemed to mock my earnest plea:
“Too long already I have tarried
On my long journey to the sea.”
Again it turned, and looking backward,
Derisively thus spoke to me;
“Thy words to me are vain and useless,
No longer will I list to thee.”
And yet he seemed to have some pity,
With kindness spake again to me.
“O man why art thou so persistent?
My work has been mapped out for me;
Was given to me by my Creator,
In æons past my work began.
I must no longer to thee listen,
I must not wait for any man.”
“Farewell O man! Farewell forever!
Dost thou not know that I am free?”
And waving me a bright good morning,
The Tide then hastened to the sea.
Alone I stood upon Life’s landing,
The waves to me this message bore:
“Thou needst no longer by me loiter.”
They then receded from the shore.
Upon Life’s shoal I now was stranded;
Alone, forsaken evermore.
All hope had with the Tide receded,
Life’s ship was left upon the shore.