Sad Heart says, "It's easy talking, but she doesn't understand. Luck with her is ever walking. Sorrow has me by the hand." Don't I understand, Sad Heart? Seems to me it's very plain. Life has cast you for a part; Sorrow you must entertain. But the beauty of the Dawn is for you, for your sad eyes. Dew-drops, diamonds on the lawn fill you with a glad surprise. Stars at night in vault of blue; moon, a floating daffodil—these are joys bestowed on you, yours to cherish at your will. Music is a precious gift; it is yours if you will hear. Watch the gruesome shadows lift, chased away by Laughter's cheer. Books you love? Oh! fortunate! And there's work for you to do? Cease, then, railing at your fate—Joy will find its way to you.
LONDON TO GREENHITHE
I wish that you had been with me to Greenhithe just the other day. Enjoyed myself? Tremendously! Such lovely sights along the way. Oh! fairy pink, the almond trees; the Prunus trees were dazzling white. And every little teasing breeze was whispering of Spring's delight. But lovelier far than bud or tree were toddlers clad in woolly things. One roguish elf, he smiled at me. Strange how that memory still clings! We passed a market all ablaze with fruits and flowers of springtime's best. I dote on Nature's lavish ways—she uses colours with such zest. Then London River—misty, grey. And ghost-like steamers, doubtful, slow; and rooks a screaming "go away!" "It's time," said I, "we homeward go." But what I liked the most of all, throughout this drive of many miles, were letterboxes, scarlet, small, set in grey walls, like cheery smiles. Like laughing scarlet lips they seemed. And as we passed, oh! how they beamed.
THE LITTLE CANDLE
Your room, you say, is very dark to-night! A little candle—and you've lots of light! Your baby pleads, "Don't leave me by myself." You place a night-light on a little shelf, and baby smiles and feels quite comforted, and thus companioned, snuggles into bed. The road seems very dark and long to you; the hand-clasp of a friend, a smile that's true, and that grim darkness is dispersed by love and brightly shines the sun or moon above. The mind that gropes in darkness for the truth, and sees a little light is rich, forsooth. A little light is what we all desire, a tiny candle for our spirit's fire. Here is a helpful thought I read to-day for us who grope and stumble on our way; there's not enough of darkness round about to put the smallest waxen candle out! So hold aloft your candle, shine or rain, that those in darkness may take heart again.
TO A CHILD
Such a beautiful gift has this world been. Lovely the Springtime's pink and white and green, and then the summer's richer, warmer glow, followed by Autumn's tints—and then the snow. Each season brings such gifts for joyous hearts, there is no sorrow when the Spring departs. And when late summer slowly drops her leaves, signals to Autumn, there is none who grieves, knowing the beauty that will softly fall upon the earth whene'er Jack Frost may call. And there are books, dear child, such constant friends that serve with joy until the journey ends. And friends more precious still than books who give us clasp of hand and tender looks, tears for our sorrow, laughter for our joy, the golden element in life's alloy. As I do now, dear child, may you one day—review the years that seem so far away, and standing on Time's lichen-covered hill have cause to claim that life is lovely still.
LIFE'S SONG
I bring joy, but also sorrow, all my children must know grief. Buoyant spring, then on the morrow Autumn's dried and falling leaf. Success I bring and golden laughter; Man I help to high estate. Disappointments follow after—this my way with small or great. Work I give as well as pleasure; sunshine—then the clouds and rain! No one can escape a measure of my bitterness and pain. Cause for singing, cause for weeping, rough and smooth and dark and bright. Time for work and hours for sleeping, calm and noise and day and night. Lovely gardens, barren places, stumbling-blocks and paths of ease; bread and honey, rags and laces, these I offer where I please. Joy I bring and also sorrow, light and shade and hills and vales and this gift for each new morrow—courage to the one who fails.