THE HARBOR LIGHTS OF HOME.
J. Thomas Gordon left home one day, Left home for good and all— A boy has a right to have his own way When he's nearly six foot tall; At least, this is what J. Thomas thought, And in his own young eyes There were very few people quite so good, And fewer still quite so wise.
What! tie as clever a lad as he Down to commonplace toil? Make J. Thomas Gordon a farmer lad, A simple son of the soil? Not if he knew it—'twould be a sin; He wished to rise and soar. For men like himself who would do and dare Dame Fortune had much in store.
The world was in need of brains and brawn, J. Thomas said modestly, The clever young man was in great demand— They would see what they would see. He would make his mark in the busy world, Some day the daily press Would herald the glad news forth to the throng, J. Thomas is a SUCCESS.
Then would the doubters and sceptics all Say, with regret sincere, "To think that we gave his hopes and his aims But an unbelieving sneer!" As for him, he would kiss his mother, And give her wealth galore, Shake the hand of his father—maybe— Then back to the world once more.
With big ambition and high conceit Was young J. Thomas filled; The warning of friends and their arguments His eloquence quickly stilled. "You may go," said the irate father, "I'll not urge you to stay; You will learn your lesson, you headstrong fool, Be glad to come back some day."
So J. Thomas Gordon left the farm, As boys have done before, And his mother began to count the hours Till he would be home once more.
The father wearied as time went on— Missed the boy from his side; But all through the years the fond mother kept Her love, her hope, and her pride. With a mother's beautiful faith, she said: "I know my boy will come So wealthy, so honored, noble and great, Proudly come marching home."
And ever she looked at eventide Into the glowing west For the dust of the carriage bringing her The one that she loved the best. Ah! how she longed to look on his face, Her stalwart lad and true, With his sunburned cheek, and his ruddy hair, And his eyes so bright and blue.
To those who said 'twas cruel of him Never a line to send, She had but one answer, with eyes ashine: "It will all come right in the end; He's busy making a name and place, And I must patient be Till this clever, ambitious lad of mine Finds time to come back to me."