There is a little antique store, just round the corner on Life's road; and paved with tear-drops is its floor, and smiles light up this small abode. And Memory sits there every day; she is the guardian of these wares. My heart, it often wends that way, to see this shop and how it fares. My heart peers through the window-pane with eyes like pools of smiles and tears, so glad and sad to see again the curios of bygone years. Says Memory, "O heart, draw near! Here is a little shining dream, and here a rippling song of cheer; and here, your childhood's fairy stream." An antique shop this Past of mine; its gems kept safe by Memory; each kind word heard, how they do shine, set in rare Fancy's filigree. Just round the corner, on Life's street, a little Antique Shop I know. My heart fares forth with quickened beat to view the gems of Long Ago.
TIME'S SACK
"OH, Father Time! what have you there? What's in your bag? Now, prithee, say. How do you know which is my share of all those things you hide away? And are there pleasant things for me? Please, Father Time, just one quick peep. To-morrow's share do let me see, before I wrap myself in sleep." Old Father Time said not one word, just went a-walking down Life's street. It's very strange he never heard my eager, chasing, racing feet. And yet next day, without a doubt, I find a dozen things to do. From Time's big sack they've fallen out. He might have told—of course, he knew! I'm wiser now, I do not ask what Father Time will bring to-morrow; for each day has its play and task; its joy and e'en its sorrow. And each awakening has this thrill: I wonder what To-day will bring? Perhaps a golden daffodil a-trumpeting, "It's Spring!" "It's Spring!"
THE HUMDRUM WAY
When something unusual has to be done, a perilous hill to be scaled, a bridge to be crossed, a venture begun, we think not of those who have failed, but we tackle the job with courage and zest, for really and truly it's fun to feel that our strength is standing the test when there's something of worth to be done. When we feel we are watched by critical eyes, when we know there's reward if we win, it's neither a matter for praise nor surprise that we're only too glad to begin; for it's human to like the cheers and applause that follow spectacular feats, but save a few cheers for this other cause—for the heroes in quiet little streets. When the same old thing has got to be done—a drab little, quiet little, everyday task, a floor to be swept, a ledger begun, then this is the boon we justly may ask—that we may be given the strength, day by day, to walk with sweet grace the dull, Humdrum Way.
GIFT OF GLOVES
A gift of gloves! I must confess no other gift can quite express, so clearly yet so silently, a friend's most loving thought of me (he knew my size, how did he guess?). It exercises thoughtfulness, a knowledge of my style of dress, to choose with perspicacity—a gift of gloves! For they must fit precisely, yes, if they'd achieve a huge success. The texture, colour, must agree with other garments worn by me, must harmonize; well, more or less. But here's the point I wish to stress: it is a gift that comes to bless, for when one dons them carefully, a loving thought springs up, you see, responsive to the gloves' caress. One's hands are clothed in friendliness and space is bridged by gloves that press with human warmth and gentleness. One feels a sweet cam'raderie, if one is wearing happily—a gift of gloves!
DOGGIE—IN MEMORIAM
This doggie was young when I was young. We understood each other's tongue; we understood each other's ways, together we spent our childhood's days. Later, 'twas he who understood each change of temper and of mood. He lived to give and I to take; he changed his ways just for my sake. If rest I wished, then so did he; he gave me love and sympathy; he liked my silence, liked my talk; was ever glad to race or walk; to wait for me, to sit quite still, happy and proud to do my will. Now that he's travelled on alone, there's naught to do but set this stone, then try to reach my journey's end as nobly as this canine friend. Oh, little pal of childhood's days, I ought to have such decent ways. You did your best to teach me, pet—and doggie, dear, I shan't forget.