Dear patient face and furrowed brow,
Dear lips that smile thro' all life's pain,
Brave toil-worn hands, so weary now,
Sweet soul unmarred by earthly stain.
Within the doorway Mother stands,
The while a man oppressed with care,
Across the waning Autumn lands,
Goes toil-ward, fain to strive and bear;
And where the pathway breasts the hill,
I stay my steps and turn to hear
Her trembling voice, as ling'ring still,
She calls, "Good-bye! God bless you, dear."
Dear peaceful face and placid brow,
Dear lips that smile secure from pain,
Brave toil-worn hands, soft-folded now,
Sweet spirit freed from earthly stain.
Within God's portal Mother stands,
The while a man forspent with care
Seeketh the far-off meadow-lands,
By faith made strong to strive and bear.
And as I breast life's weary hill,
I ofttimes pause—meseems I hear
The well-loved accents breathing still
The old fond prayer, "God bless you, dear."
Roses
"Where leaves the Rose of Yesterday?"—Rubàiyat.
A red rose burns upon his breast
Where erst a white rose lay;
Above his fervent heart-throb pressed—
The red rose of To-day.
What recks he of the flower that dies—
(For roses bloom alway!)
Low in the dust, forgotten, lies
The rose of Yesterday.
But yet, To-day's red rose must die,
(For roses fade alway!)
To-morrow crushed, forgot, 'twill lie—
A rose of Yesterday.