To-day it's dirt and dust and steam,
To-morrow it will be the same,
And through it all the soul must dream
And try to play a manly game;
Dirt, dust and steam and harsh commands,
Yet many a soft hand passes by
And only thinks he understands
The purpose of my task and why.
I've seen men shudder just to see
Me standing at this lathe of mine,
And knew somehow they pitied me,
But I have never made a whine;
For out of all this dirt and dust
And clang and clamor day by day,
Beyond toil's everlasting "must,"
I see my little ones at play.
The hissing steam would drive me mad
If hissing steam was all I heard;
But there's a boy who calls me dad
Who daily keeps my courage spurred;
And there's a little girl who waits
Each night for all that I may bring,
And I'm the guardian of their fates,
Which makes this job a wholesome thing.
Beyond the dust and dirt and steam
I see a college where he'll go;
And when I shall fulfill my dream,
More than his father he will know;
And she shall be a woman fair,
Fit for the world to love and trust—
I'll give my land a glorious pair
Out of this place of dirt and dust.
THE HOMELY MAN
Looks as though a cyclone hit him—
Can't buy clothes that seem to fit him;
An' his cheeks are rough like leather,
Made for standin' any weather.
Outwards he wuz fashioned plainly,
Loose o' joint an' blamed ungainly,
But I'd give a lot if I'd
Been prepared so fine inside.
Best thing I can tell you of him
Is the way the children love him.
Now an' then I get to thinkin'
He is much like old Abe Lincoln—
Homely like a gargoyle graven,
An' looks worse when he's unshaven;
But I'd take his ugly phiz
Jes' to have a heart like his.
I ain't over-sentimental,
But old Blake is so blamed gentle
An' so thoughtful-like of others
He reminds us of our mothers.
Rough roads he is always smoothin',
An' his way is, oh, so soothin'
That he takes away the sting
When your heart is sorrowing.