Ah, who knows the story of Life and its glory,
The unending bliss of the days that were then;
And who knows the sweetness of first love’s completeness
Who has not the wisdom of thirteen and ten?
For back went a trilling to her that was spilling
Its burden of gladness through all of the air,
With infinite yearning her message returning
To show I was true and awaited her there.
Oh, hearts that are older, what secrets I told her!
What dreams of the future, of grown girl and boy!
For what of the weather, when two walk together
The pathway to school in the heyday of joy?
When hours are but measures of innocent pleasures,
When days brim with gladness, as winecups to drain,
When Life learns the sweetness of first love’s completeness
In waiting for Her as she comes down the lane!
DADDY KNOWS
LET us dry our tears now, laddie,
Let us put aside our woes;
Let us go and talk to daddy,
For I’m sure that daddy knows.
Let us take him what we’ve broken,
Be it heart or hope or toy,
And the tale may bide unspoken,
For he used to be a boy.
He has been through all the sorrows
Of a lad at nine or ten;
He has seen the dawn of morrows
When the sun shone bright again;
His own heart has been near breaking,
Oh, more times than I can tell,
And has often known the aching
That a boy’s heart knows so well.
I am sure he well remembers,
In his calendar of days,
When the boy-heart was December’s,
Though the sun and flowers were May’s.
He has lived a boy’s life, laddie,
And he knows just how it goes;
Let us go and talk to daddy,
For I’m sure that daddy knows.
Let us tell him all about it,
How the sting of it is there,
And I have not any doubt it
Will be easier to bear;
For he’s trodden every byway,
He has fathomed every joy,
He has traveled every highway
In the wide world of a boy.
He will put aside the worries
That his day may follow through,
For the great heart of him hurries
At the call for help from you.
He will help us mend the broken
Heart of ours or hope or toy,
And the tale may bide unspoken—
For he used to be a boy.
TO CHILDREN AT THE HEARTH
IT is you, my dears, and the gladness
You bring to the tasks to do,
Who can lessen this old world’s sadness
By as much as the joy of you.
It is you, my dears, and your glory
Of sunshine and word and song
Who can make life a sweeter story
Wherever you smile along.