Afterwhiles | Page 8

anger lit the sky;?With rumbling wheels of wrath came rolling on?The storm's artillery.
The cloud above put on its blackest frown,?And then, as with a vengeful cry of pain,?The lightning snatched it, ripped and flung it down?In ravelled shreds of rain:
While I, transfigured by some wondrous art,?Bowed with the thirsty lilies to the sod,?My empty soul brimmed over, and my heart?Drenched with the love of God.
A Life Lesson
There! Little girl; don't cry!?They have broken your doll, I know;?And your tea-set blue,?And your play-house too,?Are things of the long ago;?But childish troubles will soon pass by--.?There! Little girl; don't cry!
There! Little girl; don't cry!?They have broken your slate, I know;?And the glad, wild ways?Of your school-girl days?Are things of the long ago;?But life and love will soon come by--.?There! Little girl; don't cry!
There! Little girl; don't cry!?They have broken your heart, I know;?And the rainbow gleams?Of your youthful dreams?Are things of the long ago;?But heaven holds all for which you sigh--.?There! Little girl; don't cry!
A Scrawl
I want to sing something-- but this is all--?I try and I try, but the rhymes are dull?As though they were damp, and the echoes fall?Limp and unlovable.
Words will not say what I yearn to say--?They will not walk as I want them to,?But they stumble and fall in the path of the way?Of my telling my love for you.
Simply take what the scrawl is worth--?Knowing I love you as sun the sod?On the ripening side of the great round earth?That swings in the smile of God.
Away
I cannot say, and I will not say?That he is dead--. He is just away!
With a cheery smile, and a wave of the hand?He has wandered into an unknown land,
And left us dreaming how very fair?It needs must be, since he lingers there.
And you-- O you, who the wildest yearn?For the old-time step and the glad return--,
Think of him faring on, as dear?In the love of There as the love of Here;
And loyal still, as he gave the blows?Of his warrior-strength to his country's foes--.
Mild and gentle, as he was brave--,?When the sweetest love of his life he gave
To simple things--: Where the violets grew?Blue as the eyes they were likened to,
The touches of his hands have strayed?As reverently as his lips have prayed:
When the little brown thrush that harshly chirred?Was dear to him as the mocking-bird;
And he pitied as much as a man in pain?A writhing honey-bee wet with rain--.
Think of him still as the same, I say:?He is not dead-- he is just away!
Who Bides His Time
Who bides his time, and day by day?Faces defeat full patiently,?And lifts a mirthful roundelay,?However poor his fortunes be--,?He will not fail in any qualm?Of poverty-- the paltry dime?It will grow golden in his palm,?Who bides his time.
Who bides his time-- he tastes the sweet?Of honey in the saltest tear;?And though he fares with slowest feet,?Joy runs to meet him, drawing near;?The birds are heralds of his cause;?And like a never-ending rhyme,?The roadsides bloom in his applause,?Who bides his time.
Who bides his time, and fevers not?In the hot race that none achieves,?Shall wear cool-wreathen laurel, wrought?With crimson berries in the leaves;?And he shall reign a goodly king,?And sway his hand o'er every clime,?With peace writ on his signet-ring,?Who bides his time.
From the Headboard of a Grave in Paraguay
A troth, and a grief, and a blessing,?Disguised them and came this way--,?And one was a promise, and one was a doubt,?And one was a rainy day.
And they met betimes with this maiden,?And the promise it spake and lied,?And the doubt it gibbered and hugged itself,?And the rainy day-- she died.
Laughter Holding Both His Sides
Ay, thou varlet! Laugh away!?All the world's a holiday!?Laugh away, and roar and shout?Till thy hoarse tongue lolleth out!?Bloat thy cheeks, and bulge thine eyes?Unto bursting; pelt thy thighs?With thy swollen palms, and roar?As thou never hast before!?Lustier! Wilt thou! Peal on peal!?Stiflest? Squat and grind thy heel--?Wrestle with thy loins, and then?Wheeze thee whiles, and whoop again!
Fame
1?Once, in a dream, I saw a man,?With haggard face and tangled hair,?And eyes that nursed as wild a care?As gaunt Starvation ever can;?And in his hand he held a wand?Whose magic touch gave life and thought?Unto a form his fancy wrought?And robed with coloring so grand,?It seemed the reflex of some child?Of Heaven, fair and undefiled--?A face of purity and love--?To woo him into worlds above:?And as I gazed with dazzled eyes,?A gleaming smile lit up his lips?As his bright soul from its eclipse?Went flashing into Paradise.?Then tardy Fame came through the door?And found a picture-- nothing more.
2?And once I saw a man alone,?In abject poverty, with hand?Uplifted o'er a block of stone?That took a shape at his command?And smiled upon him, fair and good--?A perfect work of womanhood,?Save that the eyes might never weep,?Nor weary hands be crossed in sleep,?Nor hair that fell