“Do the work that’s nearest,
Though it’s dull at whiles.
Helping when you meet them,
Lame dogs over stiles.”
Virginia smiled. “That’s excellent,” she said, “and let’s begin to put it into effect. To do the work that’s nearest, Babs, please hand me that pile of books yonder and I’ll begin the weekly review.”
“Ooh!” Betsy sank far down in her chair and looked so despondent that the others laughed. “Let’s get this part over as quickly as ever we can,” Barbara begged. “I’m almost famished for fudge.”
The review that evening proved two things to the president of the club. One was that Barbara had really studied during the week that had just ended and her pretty flushed face and eager way of answering showed that at last she was really interested in learning.
But when Sally was asked to repeat William Cullen Bryant’s “Thanatopsis,” the poem that all of the girls in Miss Torrence classes were required to memorize soon or late, that doll-like little maid became so confused that Virginia quickly realized that she had no understanding of what the lines meant.
“Girls,” Virginia said, looking at the others rather than at the embarrassed newcomer, “there is only one real way to learn poetry, I think, and that is to first picture what it means. When we thoroughly understand the sentiment, we can far more easily memorize the words of the poem.” Then very kindly, “Sally, what picture came to you when you recited the lines
“To him who in the love of nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language; for his gayer hours
She has a voice of gladness and a smile
And eloquence of beauty, and she glides
Into his darker musings with a mild
And healing sympathy that steals away
Their sharpness ere he is aware.”
There was an almost startled expression in the baby-blue eyes that turned toward the speaker. “Why, I don’t believe I saw any picture. I was just trying to remember how the words came.”
Margaret spoke. “Virginia,” she said, “those lines always mean one thing to me. When father died, I felt as though I could not stay in the house. The very walls oppressed me and so I ran away to a little woods that we owned and where father and I had often walked after mother left us. I had been sobbing for hours in my room and it was late afternoon when I reached the wood. I threw myself down on the moss near a little fern edged stream and though I cried at first, the gentle murmur of those great old trees seemed to soothe me and brought a peace and somehow I felt, that, though I could not see him, my dear father was still with me. Ever since then I have loved Thanatopsis and have better understood its meaning.”
“Too, it is true that nature companions our happier moods with gladness and song,” Virginia said. “Many a time when I have felt joyous and have galloped on Comrade across the shining desert; the shout of the wind; the frolicking of the rabbits; the very mountain peaks seemed to be rejoicing with me. Nature truly is a wonderful companion.”