"If only," she said (and wistful her eyes), "my husband would take a pride in his ties; but somehow he makes them look like a string. I've pleaded, I've bullied, I can't do a thing. He'll never look smart or stylish, I fear—and yet, all the same, he's really a dear!" "Now why should he wear, year in and year out, his hat of grey felt the wrong way about? And why, when he fastens his cardigan vest, he should miss the first buttonhole, I've never guessed. And then he's surprised there's one button to spare! I plead or I lecture, but he doesn't care. He'll never look smart or stylish, I fear—and yet, all the same, he's really a dear!" "If all his pockets were merely for looks, and not for his scissors and pencils and books; for matches, for pouch, for pipe and for knife—he'd not look a lumpy disgrace to his wife. If he'd brush his clothes sometimes, use hangers at night, he'd look like our neighbour, so smart—a delight! He'll never improve, not the slightest, I fear; but yet, I assure you, he's really a dear."
THE STRING BAG
A task to irritate a saint—unravelling string of every length! Before all's done, perhaps I'll faint; it's such a tax upon one's strength. This piece seems boastful of its knot, as if it knows it hurt my nails. Dear me! This bag does hold a lot; my courage flags and fails. But, after all—it's rather fun. Suppose this string is but a street. Ah! now my journey's well begun; each knot a mountain at my feet. Till these be scaled, I can't progress. I clench my teeth and work away, beyond this knot lies happiness, and I must pass while yet 'tis day. Another piece leads to a hill where fairy folk in tree trunks dwell. I'll blaze this trail with right good will, and live among them for a spell. So swift my fingers work, and fast (imagination's on the wing!) and all my troubles fade at last—for life is like a knotted string!
LIFE GROWS FAIRER
As life goes by it fairer grows. Oh, yes, it fairer grows to me. And may it be so at the close when Death advances lovingly. It is not greater pomp nor state, nor high ambitions well attained, nor any stroke of lucky fate, nor wealth that Midas-like I've gained. Material gains I have not known (my bank account's about the same!) and yet the world has fairer grown; with certainty I make this claim. In love and tenderness and grace, the world grows fairer day by day. What joy to see a friendly face as we go bravely on our way. Not cleverness, nor knowledge, wit, do much enhance this life of ours (of course I know they help a bit), but God be thanked for sun and flow'rs; for peace beneath the star-strewn skies; for friends who sit around one's fire; for books, amusing, helpful, wise; for Love that crowns the heart's desire.
TO THE FIRST-BORN
Lovely was life, and seemingly complete! Such happiness was ours and deep content. The days flew by like buoyant birds and fleet: Joy was the urge to every fresh intent. No hours to waste, we had so much to do; Life was our teacher and we loved her well; loved every sound and every shade and hue; always she wove some new and potent spell. And then the blinding miracle—you came. A crumpled rose leaf, funny little thing, no teeth, no hair, no words, not e'en a name, and yet our hearts with ecstasy did sing. A tiny bundle. Eight pounds in a shawl! And yet you caused so swift and great a change, became the pulse of life, our joy, our all. We lived without you once, how very strange! Then was all beauty symbolised by you. Then did we find all joys on earth, above, wrapped in a shawl; and then at last we knew the meaning of that phrase, "Lo! God is Love."
A LITTLE CHILD'S PRAYER
My prayer is such a little thing, it might get lost and go astray. Are you, dear God, now listening to what I say? I wish to thank You for the sun that kissed, this morn, my sleeping eyes; for all the happy things I've done since I did rise. For gift of sound and gift of sight; for feet that skip so merrily; for food and warmth, and each delight You gave to me. I thank You for my mother dear; I thank You for my father kind; and for the star that watches near—behind the blind. So many Grown-ups show me love, though I'm a child and still quite small. Look down upon them from above and, please God, bless them all. And now, dear God, I'll say "Good-night," and may Your angels guard my bed until You send Your morning light to wake this Sleepy Head.