Part 9

I have a friend, if you should ask Why ’tis I love her well, Indeed, ’twould be a weighty task These reasons all to tell.

First, she is good enough to see-- A pretty face and kind, That somehow fairer is to me Than others I can find.

She has two lips with laughter filled, That hold not scorn nor sneer, She is a little bit self-willed-- Gangs her ain gait, I fear.

She has two strong and supple hands, Two bright and tender eyes, She has a heart that understands, She has a judgment wise.

Her voice--at least to me--is fine, I like to lie and rest, And hear her reading, line by line, The poems I love best.

No jealousy, no trace of spite Is in her nature strong, She is so loyal to the right, So gentle with the wrong.

The Prodigal

They sat alone by the fireside, a couple old and gray, Brooding over a sorrow keen at the close of a winter’s day.

The woman spake to the man at length, tenderly, wistfully, “The pillar of fire still guides by night, the cloud still guides by day.

If you would but take the ills of life, the losses, the sorrow vain, To the One whose ear is open to hear each cry of pain!

You are thinking now of Willie, the boy we loved so well, And who left his home to wander--whither--Ah, who can tell!

His room stands just as he left it--I go upstairs each day And smooth the pillows with my hands, and for my darling pray.

He may not have--sometimes my heart grows fairly sick with dread-- In cold, or storm, or in sickness, a place to lay his head.

My heart would break did I not know the Father of us all Stoops down to make my sorrow less, counts all the tears that fall.

You will not turn where comfort lies, towards Him you will not move, O husband, give the Lord your heart--prove, prove His faithful love.”

“If I had sought the Lord,” said he, “when youth and strength were mine, I might have had to cheer me now as dear a faith as thine.

But God is just, His laws so stern, I’ve broken year by year, God is a judge--I feel that now--just, holy, and severe.

I scorn to seek Him after all the years I’ve walked in sin-- ’Tis too near to life’s ending now for me to just begin.

My heart lies heavy in my breast, but I must bear my load, My pride has kept me all along a sad and dreary road.

Yes, I’m thinking, wife, of Willie, the boy who went away-- Thoughts of him fill the heart of me when comes this time of day.

I watch you praying for his soul, a light in your dear e’e, Methinks a soul from heaven itself might well come back to see.

But I--I cannot pray at all; the words they will not come, My soul rebels and will not bow--_my boy is far from home_.

My lad I was so proud of, though often I was stern, Wilful was he, but ah, to-night for his presence I yearn.”

There’s a step on the walk outside, trembling hands at the door, And some one is kneeling by them, sobbing out o’er and o’er:

“Father, your prodigal has come, unworthy of your name, Broken in spirit, buffeted, baptised with bitter shame.

But say _forgiven_, and lay your hand on me in the old way; Pride kept me long from you, but I had to come home to-day.”

Such a welcome he got from them--the old love changeth not, Faithful to death, unswerving--miracles hath it wrought.

The father turned a glowing face, and whispered: Let us pray, My pride has kept me long from God, but I’ll go home to-day.

And then with the firelight shining, leaving his heavy load, A prodigal old and hoary came tremblingly back to God.

He knew the truth, deep as the sea, high as the heaven above, Knew that the Fatherhood of God was made and crowned with Love.

At Quebec

Quebec, the grey old city on the hill, Lies with a golden glory on her head, Dreaming throughout this hour so fair--so still-- Of other days and all her mighty dead. The white doves perch upon the cannons grim, The flowers bloom where once did run a tide Of crimson, when the moon rose pale and dim Above the battlefield so grim and wide. Methinks within her wakes a mighty glow Of pride, of tenderness--her stirring past-- The strife, the valor, of the long ago Feels at her heartstrings. Strong, and tall, and vast, She lies, touched with the sunsets golden grace, A wondrous softness on her grey old face.

The Tea Kettle’s Tune

I like to hear the kettle sing At this time of the day, Such cheery thoughts it seems to bring, All worries flee away.

_Now spread your table cloth so white_, It tells me as I wait, _Come, bustle ’round, ’tis almost night-- The goodman’s at the gate._

Long time ago it heard John say Some foolish lover things, And do you know that to this day They’re in the song it sings.

It caught the gladness in my tone When baby Grace arrived, My pride when Jim first stood alone, My joy when Robbie thrived.

All this was such awhile ago, You’d think it would forget, But ah, the tune--I love it so-- It sings me sometimes yet.

When I was vexed with John last night, And sat here full of pride, It sang away with all its might, And shamed me till I cried.

’Tis humming now, _Come, broil the ham Or supper will be late, Put on the biscuits and the jam, You’re goodman’s at the gate._

The Creed of Love

I have a creed, I’ll tell it you, Since you have asked me to define On what I build my hopes of heaven. My creed--yes, I can call it mine, Since it belongs to every soul That reaches upward toward the light, And trusts in Christ for guidance sure, And strength and will to do the right.

You’ll find it written down, my friend, In that old Book upon the shelf, ’Tis: _Love the Lord with all thine heart And love thy neighbor as thyself_. Not _quite_ enough? ’Twas counted so By One Who walked by Galilee, His creed of love to God and man Is quite enough for you and me.

In the Clover Field

The air is sweet as sweet can be, The azure sky spreads smoothly over, And rest and joy keep company, In this wide field of sun-kissed clover.

Among the heavy heads of pink, The avaricious bees are straying, A glad full-throated bobolink, His highest note is now essaying.

The earth is holding on her breast, The sweetest flowers of all her growing, The white clouds float, from out the west A soft delicious wind is blowing.

Oh, life is good on such a day, The blue sky bending smoothly over, For neither care nor cross will stay, In this wide field of sun-kissed clover.

Lullaby

Going off to sleep on mamma’s breast, Hush-a-bye, baby boy! He’s the baby mamma loves best-- Hush-a-bye, baby boy! Rosy cheeks have been kissed by the sun, Hush-a-bye, baby boy! He’s so tired chasing after fun, Hush-a-bye, baby boy!

Pretty white “nighty”--isn’t he sweet? Hush-a-bye, baby boy! Reaching right from his chin to his feet, Hush-a-bye, baby boy! Never mind staring up at the sky, Hush-a-bye, baby boy! The stars will wink at you by and by, Hush-a-bye, baby boy!

Fast asleep on his mamma’s breast, Hush-a-bye, baby boy! Put him down in his little white nest, Hush-a-bye, baby boy!

A Sunset Talk

How sweet the pink flush there in the west, With the golden bars--let us sit a space-- I want to talk to you as we rest-- Sit where my eyes can dwell on your face.

I have been thinking of you to-day, You smile as you listen. Is there an hour I’m not in her thoughts, I hear you say-- Look at that butterfly hid in a flower.

Yes, I have been thinking all day long, For the fancy came and it will not go, That if I were to die--I am strong, ’Tis only a fancy of mine, you know.

Only a fancy (you take my breath With your passionate kisses) people die, And happiness is no bar to death Or we never need fear him, you nor I.

Only a fancy, so don’t look grave, We’ll be together for years to come, But, listen, would you be good and brave If Death, God’s reaper, came into our home?

Would you remember the full glad years, And remembering them forget to weep? We have been happy, no need for tears If one of us, dear one, should fall asleep.

Living without me would break your heart, “O sorrow of joys remembered!” You cry, Keep all the brightness though far apart, Explain my meaning--well dear, I will try.

One summer morning I heard a lark Singing to heaven, a sweet-throated bird, _One winter night I was glad in the dark, Because of the glorious song I had heard_.

“The joy of my life,” I’ve heard you say, “With her love and laughter, her smiles and tears”-- Let these be the lark’s song, sweet and gay, That will sound in your heart through all the years.

For tell me, dear one, what is love worth If it cannot crowd in the time ’tis given To two like us, on this grey old earth, Such bliss as will last till we reach heaven?

So, if I should die just bend your head, And kiss my lips as I lie at rest, Whisper, _I love you living or dead Always and ever I love you best_.

Why talk of it now? A woman’s whim, We are whimsical creatures, as you know-- Look yonder, the twilight soft and dim Comes hurrying over the world below.

Truth upon Honor

Pa’s brother is a bachelor, but not a crusty one, He’s got the very nicest home and lives there all alone; At Christmas-time he buys me up most everything I want, Because I look, ’so people say, just like my pretty aunt.

She’s just as nice as she can be, and long, long time ago Pa’s brother was, or tried to be, this same Aunt Jessie’s beau, For once I heard pa say to ma, “Your sister was to blame,” Then ma, she flared right up and said, “She did right, just the same.”

“Your brother, stubborn fellow, he would break a woman’s heart, I tell you I was glad for one they thought it best to part!” I thought of this the other day, when our relations came To eat the Xmas turkey, and more things than I could name.

For Aunt’s face got as red as fire when Uncle Ned came in, “Peace and goodwill at Xmas time,” said pa, with such a grin. “I wish,” said I to brother Tom, “they’d have a wedding day, What is the good of two nice folks sulking around this way?

I’d be a bridesmaid for them, Tom, and wouldn’t that be fun, Then we’d go there for holidays as soon as school was done.” “Don’t you believe such stuff of him,” said brother Tom to me, “Why, everyone that falls in love is silly as can be!

Put all their good clothes on at once--strut ’round an’ show off so, The folks that have to live with them get sick of it you know.” Sho! don’t tell up such stuff as that about our Uncle Ned, If you don’t mind your p’s and q’s I’ll tell him what you said.

But I found out that I was right--I’ll tell you how it came, Truth upon Honor, we did play--it’s just a lovely game, You ask the queerest questions and they answer out quite free, And if they tell what isn’t true, it’s wicked, don’t you see?

Tom asked me was I awful mad (he can be dreadful mean) When a great deal prettier hat than mine went by on Mabel Green? I had to tell, but never mind, I paid him back again, I made him own he copied sums from clever cousin Ben.

Aunt Jess she laughed, and Uncle Ned said ’twas a jolly game, He changed his tune though pretty quick when round his own turn came. “Now tell the truth,” I said to him--“not maybe or I guess-- Ain’t you just heaps and heaps in love with our dear Auntie Jess?

At first he scowled at Tom and me as mad as any hoe, And Tom he laughed and said, “Own up! you used to be her beau.” At this he looked and looked at her, and thought her nice I guess For right out quick he said, “It’s true--I love your dear Aunt Jess.”

We clapped our hands. Now ’tis your turn to question Auntie here, But if he didn’t--mean old thing--just whisper in her ear. Said she, “This is a pretty game, which everyone should know.” “I wish we’d played it, dear,” he said, “a long, long time ago.”

Then I winked hard at brother Tom, and he winked back at me, And we sneaked off and left them there as jolly as could be. I know a thing that I won’t tell--not to Tom anyway, I’ll be a bridesmaid all so fine before next Xmas day.

Elspeth’s Daughter-in-law

I don’t know what spell came over us, That’s over father and me, But two silly things we must have been To let the boy have his way. But Sammie was all the boy we had, An’ he grew so big an’ tall-- We had no girl, I didn’t mind that, For I don’t care for girls at all.

An’ that great fellow, six feet I know, An’ an arm I couldn’t span, Was handsome--I may as well own up That I like a handsome man. Now father declares the trouble came To fill our life to the brim By reason of Sam’s good looks--he _thinks_ The boy should look just like him.

Not that I’d hurt his pride for the world, But I’d feel most awful bad To see father’s features one by one A-showing up on our lad. Sam got to college all right enough, When he came home I declare He told me about wonderful things He’d had to learn while up there. He showed me gloves all padded out, The cap an’ the scanty trews, An’ the mask of wire that hid his face, The day that they beat the Blues.

I had my doubts about Sammie too, For fear ’twould spoil the lad, An’ widow Dobbs kept throwing out hints That he was going to the bad. She’s awful quick with her nods and winks, An’ a body can’t forget, Why, she made me do a thing one day That I’m mortal shamed of yet.

She’d been telling up a big long yarn Of boy’s deceit, an’ of things That mothers discover unawares-- An’ get just desperate stings. It vexed me so much, that up I went An’ opened our Sammie’s trunk, Though if he had come an’ caught me there-- Well, I know I should have sunk.

I searched through all that big pile of stuff, An’ I tried each little key, But there was nothing in that big trunk That his mother daren’t see. Then I went over to widow Dobbs, An’ we had a little spat, My boy was hiding nothing from me, Thank God! for a boy like that.

But I must tell you about his wife; You see we had always planned That he’d marry Eliza Jane Jones-- She owns a good bit of land. She isn’t good looking, I’ll own up, But in all your mortal life, You never saw a better Nor thriftier farmer’s wife.

’Twas a shock, I tell you, when he wrote (Father said I was to blame) That he’d bring a bride from the city-- Daisy, he said, was her name. Well, I’ll never forget how I felt When I first saw Sammie’s wife, I shook hands--I couldn’t have kissed her Had it been to save my life.

You see, I’d a thought of the work, Plenty to do I can tell, An’ I thought when Sammie’s wife came home That I’d try a shirking spell. An’ when I saw her, my heart was full Of vexation an’ surprise, I thought of hearty Eliza Jane Jones Till the tears came in my eyes.

She looked like a picture standing there, A-smoothing her soft hair down, It made me feel hateful, just to know I was homely, old, and brown. It vexed me just to look at her hands, So dimpled, an’ soft, an’ white-- I took Mr. Sammie to my room An’ told him it wasn’t right.

“She is no worker,” I said to him, “An’ drones are bad in a hive,” He laughed, “Oh we are a sleepy lot, Daisy will keep us alive!” “I know how ’twill be,” I said to him, She’ll want new things every day In machinery, to do up the work In the quick new-fangled way.

“But I won’t have it,” I said to him, “I have my way of going, An’ it’s girls that can’t do anything That want to do the showing.” He took it good--thinks I to myself I’ll finish while I’m in it, “There’s one thing, Sammie, I’ve never done, An’ I’m old now to begin it.

I’m old to wait on your lady wife, An’ stick to it day by day, An’ listen to high-falutin’ talk, An’ feel I’m just in the way. An’ another thing,” I said to him, Then stopped, an’ got red an’ hot, “You needn’t think your babies I’ll mind, Because I tell you I’ll not.”

I wish you could have heard the boy laugh, He shook the things on the shelf, “The dear little mammie, shan’t be ’bused” He said, “I’ll mind ’em myself.” All this talk I tell just to show What a fickle thing I am, An’ how little my words really meant When I said all this to Sam.

It was only some four years ago, An’ stowed in the big back hall There’s machines for almost everything, Leaning their backs to the wall. My daughter-in-law ’tends to it all-- A good stout girl at her hand-- If I say it myself, you can’t find Better kept house in the land.

The books, an’ papers, an’ flowers seem Part of her every-day life, An’ no doctor can ’tend to a sprain Better than our Sammie’s wife. Now, I like to sit here in my chair An’ watch her happy an’ free, An’ I like--yes, I’ll own up--I like Baby to climb on my knee.

Poor old father is sillier yet, A slave to three-year-old Jim, My, he grins an’ looks proud as can be Because the boy looks like him! Oh, we all have our worries I know, We find each blemish an’ flaw, But there’s one perfect thing in this world-- Sam’s wife, _my daughter-in-law_.

Cold Water

My niece from Boston, Minerva Bleak, So learned they call her Madam, With all her ’ologies, French and Greek, With all the queer things she styles antique, Came to see me, an’ Adam.

My brother, he wrote before she came, A patient I send to you, Just chase the cobwebs out of her brain, And make her happy and sweet again, Just now, she’s horribly blue.

Blue! I cried, ’tis a serious thing, System all out of kilter! But Adam laughed when he saw me bring, Herbs I had gathered late in the spring, To brew into a philter.

I tell you it was a big surprise When I got a look at her. Blue, there was nothing blue but her eyes, They were as blue as the summer skies, Adam laughed,--but no matter.

She hadn’t been there many weeks When I began to worry. A girl should have roses in her cheeks, Should sing, and laugh sometimes when she speaks, And not be sad and sorry.

I knew what was wrong, and told her so, Studyin’, and contrivin’ Over things she had no call to know, An’ quite neglectin’ the life an’ glow That keep the soul a-thrivin’.

She had books on science, an’ books on art, An’ books on things still higher, Wonderful things that gave you a start, But not a line, or a word, on the heart Full of its vain desire.

Well, she’d been there a month--maybe more, ’Twas dreadful stormy weather, She’d just been telling me o’er and o’er Quaint little stories she’d told before As we sat there together.

When Martha came showin’ in young Blaine, (Most as tall as our ceilin,’ Such a splendid fellow, good and plain, With no great beauty to make him vain, But lots of sense an’ feelin.’)

I introduced him all right I know-- I like him--so does Adam, But Minerva’s face went white as snow, And he said, bowing his head, just so-- “We’ve met, have we not, madam?”

A nice romance right under my nose, I watched it growin’, growin,’ Along through the weeks of frosts and snows (Oh, I wasn’t blind you may suppose) And bitter north wind blowin’.

For a man from Boston came along, (Such an elegant fellow) Played the guitar, wore his hair quite long, Talked to Minerva of art and song In tones so soft an’ mellow.

Before long I had my feelings stirred, And vowed he should’nt have her. I listened long, but I never heard From his mouth one good sensible word, Nothin’ but rank palaver.

And to watch that girl, who seemed so wise, Listenin’ to all he told her, It made the tears come into my eyes, An’ my strong temper get on the rise. But when the man got bolder.

And they talked together, an’ agreed God’s word was but a fable, A good, well-written story, indeed, Why I got right up, as I had need, Stand this? I wasn’t able.

I told him he had better take His views where they were needed, Minerva said ’twas a great mistake, Said sometimes her heart did fairly ache To know as much as he did.

Then I got Minerva off alone, Ah, she was dear, the sinner, Said I, if old Satan gets this one It won’t be because I haven’t done All that I could to win her.

So I told her things tender and true, Told her of love undying, Told her of peace that my own soul knew, Till pride died out of her eyes of blue An’ she fell softly crying.

“You were a babe when your mother died, And I stood there beside her, Can you believe that your mother lied When she kissed your face?” I said, an’ cried “The Christ will keep an’ guide her,”

“Will bring my little one home to me, As gates of pearl were lifting.” Your mother was very dear to me. Now on what big mysterious sea Would you have her soul drifting.

Next day there came through the bitter cold Two offers, or what I suppose was. One in an envelope square and bold, The other all perfume, white and gold, Tied up in hot-house roses.

They all went skating that afternoon Down on the frozen river. When I think how they came back so soon, Minerva half-drowned, an’ in a swoon, It always makes me shiver.

’Twas all for the best, that bath so cold, Proved a boon an’ a blessin’, Down went Blaine after her, strong an’ bold, While safe to shore the other one rolled. O ’twas a wholesome lesson!

We sat there a happy crowd that night, Though winter winds were blowin’, Minerva, a little weak and white, Her left hand hid in the preacher’s right, Her eyes all soft an’ glowin’.

Would you believe it, the other came, Full of presumes and supposes, Hoped nobody held he was to blame, I carried him down, though, just the same, His bunch of hot-house roses.

He bowed himself off with such an air, Not a bit overpowered, And Adam said anything was fair, With a man who went around with such hair, And proved himself a coward.

My brother wrote to me yesterday, “How _did_ you cure my daughter, She’s not the same girl that went away.” But when I ask her, she’ll laugh and say, “The cure! O just cold water!”

Long Time Ago

There’s been a fair in our nearest town, A wonderful show of new things, And Ebenezer and I went down Just to see the folks, and view things.

I wore the bonnet I got last week, This stylish city-made bonnet, And was sorry I did after all, For the dust settled so upon it.