My Boy
Oh, where did you come from, baby mine,
With your face like a cherub's sweet?
Did the angels scatter with flowers, the path
That was pressed by your little feet?
Or, did you fly from the realms of love?
On your shoulders methinks I see
In the crumpled roseleaf dimples there,
The place where the wings should be.
The angels were loth to leave you, my child,
I know they were filled with fear,
I almost fancy I hear their wings
Hovering somewhere near.
Oh, they need not doubt that your mother's heart
Holds less of love than their own,
And though I may lack of their wisdom my pet,
My love for the lack shall atone.
Oh, gift of the angels—Gift of God,
What a trust for a mortal to hold!
A boy to guide in the paths of right,
A soul for Heaven to mold.
My darling, I fain would shelter you here,
Close, close on my own fond breast,
For my heart shrinks back from the terrors of life
When my bird flies out of the nest.
If only Christ gave me the power, my boy,
To suffer and toil in your stead,
I'd pluck every thorn from your path in life
And toss you its roses instead.
And the selfish love of your mother, boy,
Would rob you of life's best boon,
And drown the chorus of angel choirs,
By setting the world attune.
So I'll send back the tears of a mother's love,
I will crush out a mother's fear,
And push you with tender, trembling hands
Out into Life's highway, dear.
Yet strongly armored by truth, my boy,
And shod by your mother's prayer,
I'll know that your Heavenly Father's love
O'ershadows you everywhere.
And that sometime, after life's battle is o'er
In the land of our promised rest—
I shall meet you, my baby, to part never more,
And hold you once more on my breast.
The Fairy's Motto
A family of Fairies lived under the ground,
And search as they might no place co'd be found,
Where a home they could make, a snug little nest,
A refuge from harm when by foes they were pressed.
Day in, and day out they skurried about,
Putting fish worms, and beetles, and such like to rout.
At length one, the most energetic of all,
Found something quite large and round like a ball,
So calling the family, with pickaxe and spades
They soon in the wonder an opening made.
And what do you think they found it to be?
A turnip so large it might have been three.
So they hollowed it out as fast as they could,
Not pausing a moment for rest or for food.
A part of the contents they hurled from the door,
And trampled the rest to thicken the floor,
And ere through the holes the sun 'gan to peep,
The turnip was empty, the Fairies asleep.
The gardener on passing his turnip bed saw,
'Midst the flourishing green a queer looking flaw:
"Why, how can this be? I'm sure yester-e'en,
That turnip, as any, was thrifty and green.
There may be a grub at its root, or perhaps,
A bug at its top, they are meddlesome chaps;
I'll wait until morning, the heat of the sun
May have proven too much for a delicate one."
In the meantime the Fairies waked up by his words,
Laughed and chuckled together as happy as birds.
"Before he comes round, we'll have finished and done,
And he'll find that his turnip is not worth a bun.
He will leave it and we will hold revelry high,
For that some may have life, why, something must die."
So they cut a small hole through the top, for a door,
The tiniest roots from the outside they tore,
And made them a ladder, so firm and so fair
It answered their purpose and served as a stair.
A cabbage leaf carpet, a bedstead so neat
They made in a minute, just out of a beet,
A table and chairs were made out of roots,
Supported in style by asparagus shoots.
Lace curtains of spider webs, hung o'er the doors,
And bumble bee skins were the rugs on the floors,
Their dishes were all from the button weed made,
Their knives and their forks from the tiny grass blade,
Corn silk for their cushions, thistledown for a bed,
"Our home will be royal," they boastingly said.
They caught a black cricket and hollowed him out,
For a crib the sweet baby must have, without doubt,
And the cricket, his life, ought gladly to give,
For "something must die, that others may live."
But why should I tell you the wonderful way
They furnished and finished their house the next day?
They sent invitations to their four hundred friends—
"At Home—after sunset until the night ends."
But plans that are made for ends of our own,
May steal our sweet plums and leave us the stone.
Next day as the gardener walked down through the rows
Pressing down the soft earth here and there with his toes,
He found that the turnip looked worse than before—
And grimly he smiled, for he saw the top door,
That the Fairies forgot in their hurry last night
To close with the curtains, and fasten down tight,
So stooping, he gathered the leaves dry and dead,
Gave a vigorous pull, and away o'er his head
He sent it a-flying—Poor Fairies, good-bye—
"That something may live, you know, something must die."
A Reverie
Standing to-night beside their little bed,
All richly hung with tapestry and lace,
I look half sadly down upon my treasures there,
My boys, so full of innocence and grace,
My little lambs, safe folded for the night,
Caught by the god of slumber unaware.
The sturdy lad's soft cheek close pressed
Against his baby brother's, soft and fair;
The smile is still upon the boy's red mouth.
On baby's face the roguish dimples lie;
The curls of brown, the shining rings of gold,
Like sun and shadow tremble as I sigh—
Sigh that so much of innocence and grace
So soon must leave a mother's tender care—
So soon the hurrying years crowd on apace,
And bring to each of toil and pain his share.
To-day, when poisoned breath from lips profane,
Blown harshly from the busy street below,
Entered my safe retreat, and brought
Quick to my side the lad, his cheeks aglow,
His hazel eyes with wonder wide met mine;
I could not speak—I stooped and kissed his hand.
The shadow passed, my heart leaped up in joy—
The words—the sin—he did not understand.
But ere the cloud had left his childish face
Upon my heart this deeper shadow lay:
I cannot always keep my darlings safe;
They'll leave the shelter of the fold some day.
Strong-willed, strong-hearted, loving boys—
Harmonious souls by angels set attune—
Oh, may my fingers touch the keys aright!
I ask of Heaven than this no greater boon;
No greater boon than wisdom from on high
To strengthen them against the snares of sin;
To teach them how to live and how to die,
To hear their Master bid them "Enter in!"
So, with my good-night kiss upon your lips
I'll banish all the shadows from my heart,
And know He'll send His blessed sunshine in,
If only you and I will do our part.
My Choice
I'm only a boy, but before me lie
Life's paths untrod, and a sunny sky
Bends o'er the paths, and smiles on me.
And under its blue serene, I see
Two ways stretch out, one, narrow and straight;
The other, broad, and an open gate
Beckons me on, and smiling and sweet
Are the Heavens fair, and down at my feet
Fair flowers bloom, and the grasses nod
On the level slope of the emerald sod.
In the bosky dells my eyes discern
The feathery flakes of the filmy fern,
The birds' low song in the shadows deep
Lull my fancies to dreamful sleep.
The sun-flecked slopes and the open gate
Seem for my eager feet to wait.
But the narrow way, though rough and steep,
Has a charm for me, and my senses leap
As I view the heights that seem to rise
From the lowly earth, to the sunlit skies.
Though rough and steep, and with danger fraught,
Though the glorious heights with my life be bought—
I'll turn from the broad road leading down,
And seek the heights and the laurel crown.
From the blood-stained prints of my thorn-pierced feet,
Spring wonderful flowers, whose fragrance sweet,
Borne on the breath of the balmy air,
Charms my heart and dispels my care.
The beetling crags that block my way,
The storm cloud's gloom, where the lightnings play,
But give me strength for each new emprise,
And joys my soul as I slowly rise;
For snares and cliffs, to a boy like me
Should only incentives to action be.
I'm bound to rise—If I earnestly try
I know I can reach the hilltops high.
But I have no time to loiter and play,
On the tempting slopes of the downward way,
But must follow the path, by good men trod,
To rise to the heights of life and God.