What the world may think of a man is of small consequence either to him or the world; but what he thinks of himself is of infinite and imperishable importance to all the realms of creation.
Mister Blue-bird.
"Mister Blue-bird! Mister Blue-bird!
Don't you think it's rather soon
For the making of your music,
And the striking of a tune?"
"I have heard the lone trees calling
And the meadows barren long,
For the laughter of the lovers
And the raptures of the song!
"I have heard the dark buds waiting,
And the roses red to be
Sent the wailing of their wishes
In a message after me!
"Never think I come too early!
I'm the messenger of spring,
And the roses and the lilies
Never waken till I sing!"
He has Lived in Vain.
The poor man who never was a country boy, and made cider, milked the cows, ran off and went swimming, kissed the girls at apple-cuttings and husking bees, bred stone-bruises on his heels, stacked hay in a high wind and mowed it away in a hot loft, swallowed quinine in scraped apple and castor oil in cold coffee, taught the calves to drink and fed them, manipulated the churn-dasher, ate molasses and [sulphur] and drank sassafras tea in the spring to purify his blood,—that poor man has lived his sinful life in vain!