But ah! the scars you're wearing,
From thorns that pierced you sore,-- [{302}] And the ditches in which you've fallen,
That were strewn with roses o'er;--
And the joys you've lost, unnumbered,
That spring from good deeds done;
And the fruits you've missed, unmeasured,
That by others have been won.
Though friends may be indulgent,
And loved ones even forget,
Yourself can never banish
The memories that beset.
You will wish you had never traveled
The way that leads to death;
You will wish you had never reveled
In the viper's venomed breath.
So beware which track you follow;
And again I say, beware!
The False is strewn with roses,--
The True looks bleak and bare;
But this, 't is plain, is only
That youthful, artless eyes
Are open to show and glamour,
But see not deep nor wise, [{303}]
To Truth then, children, listen,
And cultivate the seed
That in your hearts God planted,
To serve your every need;--
Yes, heed the voice within you,
And follow it all the way,
For it will help you choose the road
That leads to endless day.
THE PHOEBE'S NEST IN THE OLD WELL-WHEEL.
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," why, 'tis a little bird,
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," singing the pretty word;
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," brown feathers cover him,
Gray breast, with blackish stripes scattered all over him.
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," here comes his little mate,
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," both on the garden gate,
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," loving now they trill,
Planning to build a nest in the old well-wheel.
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," now the nest is begun;
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," now it is nearly done;
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," how will the birdies feel,
When the egg is dropped down, with turn of the wheel.
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," children are sorry now,
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," birds are all a-worry now,
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," laying eggs day by day,
While the turn of the wheel ever drops them away. [{305}]
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," never the lesson learned,
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," year by year they returned,
"Phoe-be, phoe-be," building persistently,
Where the turn of the wheel dropped the eggs all away.
Phoe-be, phoe-be, yet not in vain you wrought,
Phoe-be, phoe-be, for, by your folly taught,
Phoe-be, phoe-be, children plan so to build,
That no eggs may be lost by the turn of life's wheel.
MABEL'S SNOW-FEATHERS.
Listen, children, while I tell you
What our merry Mabel said
When she saw the feathery snow-flakes
Tumbling down about her head.
Clapping hands and dancing gaily,
"Mamma, mamma, come and see!
Come and see the feathers, mamma,
Soft and white as they can be!" [{307}]
Standing then a moment, pondering
As it were, whence came the snow,
Little face so wise and thoughtful,
Mabel cried: "Oh, now I know,
"There are lots of eider ducklets
Up in Heaven, above the blue,
And they're dropping off their feathers,--
And such downy feathers, too!
"See them frolic with each other;
See them kiss as fast they fly;
See them make believe they are going to,
Then go gaily flitting by.
"See them on the Spruce and Balsam,
Pile up little soft, fat hands;
See their many plump, white cushions;
See them wave their fairy wands.
"See the showers of flying feathers
Whisking 'round in merry moods;
See, the telegraph their perch is,--
Oh, I'm sure they're almost birds!" [{308}]
Now she fancies she can hear them
Whisper of their ducklet birth;--
Hear their soft and wean-y quacklings,
As they tumble down to earth.
Now she listens for the jingle
Of the sleigh-bells they will bring;
Now she sees the flying horses,
Prancing gaily at their ring.
Lovely are these fleecy feathers,
Dainty in each rare device;
All unlike our ducklet feathers,--
White and soft, but cold as ice.