never seen before!
In robe and crown the monarch trod the shore;
His golden hooks were decked with feathers fine,
His jewelled reel ran out a silken line.
With kingly strokes he flogged the crystal stream;
Far-off the salmon saw his tackle gleam;
Careless of kings, they eyed with calm disdain
The gaudy lure, and Martin fished in vain.
On Friday, when the week was almost spent,
He scanned his empty creel with discontent,
Called for a net, and cast it far and wide,
And drew—a thousand minnows from the tide!
Then came the angler to conclude the match,
And at the monarch’s feet spread out his catch—
A hundred salmon, greater than before.
“I win!” he cried: “the King must pay the score.”
Then Martin, angry, threw his tackle down:
“Rather than lose this game I’d lose my crown!”
“Nay, thou hast lost them both,” the angler said;
And as he spoke a wondrous light was shed
Around his form; he dropped his garments mean,
And in his place the River-god was seen.
“Thy vanity has brought thee in my power,
And thou must pay the forfeit at this hour:
For thou hast shown thyself a royal fool,
Too proud to angle, and too vain to rule,
Eager to win in every trivial strife—
Go! Thou shalt fish for minnows all thy life!”
Wrathful, the King the magic sentence heard;
He strove to answer, but he only chirr-r-ed:
His royal robe was changed to wings of blue,
His crown a ruby crest—away he flew!
So every summer day along the stream
The vain King-fisher darts, an azure gleam,
And scolds the angler with a mocking scream.
A Mile with Me
O who will walk a mile with me
Along life’s merry way?
A comrade blithe and full of glee,
Who dares to laugh out loud and free,
And let his frolic fancy play,
Like a happy child, through the flowers gay
That fill the field and fringe the way
Where he walks a mile with me.
And who will walk a mile with me
Along life’s weary way?
A friend whose heart has eyes to see
The stars shine out o’er the darkening lea,
And the quiet rest at the end o’ the day—
A friend who knows, and dares to say,
The brave, sweet words that cheer the way
Where he walks a mile with me.
With such a comrade, such a friend,
I fain would walk till journeys end,
Through summer sunshine, winter rain,
And then?—Farewell, we shall meet again!
Spring in the South
Now in the oak the sap of life is welling,
Tho’ to the bough the rusty leafage clings;
Now on the elm the misty buds are swelling;
Every little pine-wood grows alive with wings;
Blue-jays are fluttering, yodeling and crying,
Meadow-larks sailing low above the faded grass,
Red-birds whistling clear, silent robins flying—
Who has waked the birds up? What has come to pass?
Last year’s cotton-plants, desolately bowing,
Tremble in the March-wind, ragged and forlorn;
Red are the hillsides of the early ploughing,
Gray are the lowlands, waiting for the corn.
Earth seems asleep, but she is only feigning;
Deep in her bosom thrills a sweet unrest;
Look where the jasmine lavishly is raining
Jove’s golden shower into Danäe’s breast!
Now on the plum-tree a snowy bloom is sifted,
Now on the peach-tree, the glory of the rose,
Far o’er the hills a tender haze is drifted,
Full to the brim the yellow river flows.
Dark cypress boughs with vivid jewels glisten,
Greener than emeralds shining in the sun.
Whence comes the magic? Listen, sweetheart, listen!
The mocking-bird is singing: Spring is begun.
Hark, in his song no tremor of misgiving!
All of his heart he pours into his lay—
“Love, love, love, and pure delight of living:
Winter is forgotten: here’s a happy day!”
Fair in your face I read the flowery presage,
Snowy on your brow and rosy on your mouth:
Sweet in your voice I hear the season’s message—
Love, love, love, and Spring in the South!
Love’s Nearness
I think of thee when golden sunbeams glimmer
Across the sea;
And when the waves reflect the moon’s pale shimmer
I think of thee.
I see thy form when down the distant highway
The dust-clouds rise;
In darkest night, above the mountain by-way
I see thine eyes.
I hear thee when the ocean-tides returning
Aloud rejoice;
And on the lonely moor in silence yearning
I hear thy voice.
I dwell with thee; though thou art far removed,
Yet thou art near.
The sun goes down, the stars shine out—Beloved
If thou wert here!
School
I put my heart to school
In the world where men grow wise:
“Go out,” I said, “and learn the rule;
Come back when you win a prize.”
My heart came back again:
“Now where is the prize?” I cried.—
“The rule was false, and the prize was pain,
And the teacher’s name was Pride.”
I put my heart to school
In the woods where veeries sing
And brooks run clear and cool,
In the fields where wild flowers spring.
“And why do you stay so long
My heart, and where do you roam?”
The answer came with a laugh and a song—
“I find this school is home.”
A Mother’s Birthday
Lord Jesus, Thou hast known
A mother’s love and tender care:
And Thou wilt hear,
While for my own
Mother most dear
I make this birthday prayer.
Protect her life, I pray,
Who gave the gift of life to me;
And may she know,
From day to day,
The deepening glow
Of joy that comes from Thee.
As once upon her breast
Fearless and well content I lay,
So let her heart,
On Thee at rest,
Feel fear depart
And trouble fade away.
Ah, hold her by the hand,
As once her hand held mine;
And though she may
Not understand
Life’s winding way,
Lead her in peace divine.
I cannot pay my debt
For all the love that she has given;
But Thou, love’s Lord,
Wilt not forget
Her due reward—
Bless her in earth and heaven.
Indian Summer
A silken curtain veils the skies,
And half conceals from pensive eyes
The bronzing tokens of the fall;
A calmness broods upon the hills,
And summer’s parting dream distils
A charm of silence over all.
The stacks of corn, in brown array,
Stand waiting
