Back and forth; one and two; a needle flashing, bright as mirth. Filmy stuff of palest blue, bit of heaven come to earth! Anyone can visit Spain, Holland, France, or Italy, if she cares to go by train, if she cares to go by sea. Back and forth; soft and slow, needle dancing merrily. Always thought I'd like to go where grows the giant banyan tree. Needle's speeding down one side, India's moon is very bright. How delightful thus to glide across a pool of silver light. Scented is the midnight air, romance grows on every stem! Jungle beasts for fights prepare—finished is the wee skirt's hem. Back and forth; not too fast, on the way to Fancy's land. Here we are, on shore at last, fairies take me by the hand. Back and forth, one and two, anyone can fly by air. Cleverer, I think, don't you, to travel in a rocking-chair!
AT A RAILWAY STATION
Proud trunk indeed! It looked at me with ill-disguised antipathy. It seemed to know I'd never been to all the places it had seen. I circled it with humble tread and, filled with awe, its labels read. One year, I saw, it went to Spain; and liked it, for it went again. And once to Venice, once to Rome. I wondered if it longed for home. I must admit it travelled far; for there were labels "C.P.R." This trunk showed such a haughty face. I hastened to another place, and soon a battered box I spied that did not look so dignified, and on its shabby lid there sat a whistling boy with ball and bat. Said I (my manners are so bad), "Where are you going, whistling lad?" His smile was wonderful to see. "To jolly Margate sands," cried he. Back to the haughty trunk I went. "Each one," I bowed, "to his own bent. Though you prefer some far-off land, had I the choice, please understand, a shabby box I'd rather be, with whistling lad for company!"
IN PRAISE OF A WHOLE WEEK
Poor old Robinson Crusoe, a lonely man was he, with not a soul but Friday to keep him company. So when I'm feeling lonely, humble, sad and meek, I just remember that for friends I have a whole good week! Six days as well as Friday, companions brave and strong; it really seems they all deserve a tribute and a song. So here's to good Man Friday, and to his brothers six. There's always one to help me should I be in a fix. Suppose that Monday's greyish—there's Tuesday coming soon, and if the morning's boresome—there is the afternoon! A toast, then, to "a whole week" which has such friendly ways, for should one Friday disappear—it sends six other days.
A PRAYER IN ADVERSITY
"Lord, keep Thou my temper sweet." Thus I used to hear her say as she trod life's lonely way, faced so often by defeat. "Lord, keep Thou my temper sweet." Phrase of wisdom! How it clings. Troubles now I never meet, but within my heart there rings, "Lord, keep Thou my temper sweet." Sullen is the storm-swept sky. Everything is going wrong. That's no reason you or I should broadcast a bitter song. The world has quite enough to bear; we at least might try to smile. Adding grief would be unfair, things will brighten in a while. Though despair is looming near, let not bitterness hold sway; now's the time to conquer fear, to-morrow brings a happy day. Sulk not with life when things go wrong. What though you met grim defeat! Chant this helpful little song: "Lord, keep Thou my temper sweet."
THE WATCHFUL TONGUE
The "watchful" tongue I do despise, the tongue that always waits to learn what words would be accounted wise. 'Tis such a tongue I spurn. The tongue that plays the suavest airs upon the most expedient string; that echoes much, but never dares to be the leader in the ring; that always drops a pleasing word because it's easiest so to do; when drums of argument are heard, by silence, sees the matter through. Oh! I dislike the trembling tongue that is afraid of words sincere. I do detest the song that's sung to the accompaniment of fear. And there's a silence I abhor; a silence meant to lead astray; a silence like a heavy door denying Truth the right of way. I'd rather hear quick hammer blows, words edged with steel, perhaps unkind; a muffled tongue, it never shows the true complexion of the mind.