| When I consider how my light is spent |
| Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, |
| And that one talent which is death to hide, |
| Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent |
| To serve therewith my Maker, and present |
| My true account, lest He, returning, chide; |
| "Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?" |
| I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent |
| That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need |
| Either man's work or His own gifts. Who best |
| Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best. His state |
| Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed, |
| And post o'er land and ocean without rest; |
| They also serve who only stand and wait." |
| |
| John Milton. |
| Where the pools are bright and deep, |
| Where the gray trout lies asleep, |
| Up the river and o'er the lea, |
| That's the way for Billy and me. |
| |
| Where the blackbird sings the latest, |
| Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest, |
| Where the nestlings chirp and flee. |
| That's the way for Billy and me. |
| |
| Where the mowers mow the cleanest, |
| Where the hay lies thick and greenest; |
| There to trace the homeward bee, |
| That's the way for Billy and me. |
| |
| Where the hazel bank is steepest, |
| Where the shadow falls the deepest, |
| Where the clustering nuts fall free, |
| That's the way for Billy and me. |
| |
| Why the boys should drive away |
| Little sweet maidens from their play, |
| Or love to banter and fight so well, |
| That's the thing I never could tell. |
| |
| But this I know, I love to play, |
| Through the meadow, among the hay, |
| Up the water and o'er the lea, |
| That's the way for Billy and me. |
| |
| James Hogg. |
| The leaves are fading and falling, |
| The winds are rough and wild, |
| The birds have ceased their calling, |
| But let me tell you, my child, |
| Though day by day, as it closes, |
| Doth darker and colder grow, |
| The roots of the bright red roses |
| Will keep alive in the snow. |
| |
| And when the winter is over, |
| The boughs will get new leaves, |
| The quail come back to the clover, |
| And the swallow back to the eaves. |
| |
| There must be rough, cold weather, |
| And winds and rains so wild; |
| Not all good things together |
| Come to us here, my child. |
| |
| So, when some dear joy loses |
| Its beauteous summer glow, |
| Think how the roots of the roses |
| Are kept alive in the snow. |
| |
| Alice Gary. |