Rhymes of a Rolling Stone | Page 8

saw him whirl in the river swirl, and thresh his arms about. In a queer, strained way I heard Dick say: "I'm going after him," Throw off his coat, leap down the boat -- and then I gave a shout: "Boys, grab him, quick! You're crazy, Dick! Far better one than two! Hell, man! You know you've got no show! It's sure and certain death. . . ." And there we hung, and there we clung, with beef and brawn and thew, And sinews cracked and joints were racked, and panting came our breath; And there we swayed and there we prayed, till strength and hope were spent -- Then Dick, he threw us off like rats, and after Jim he went.
With mighty urge amid the surge of river-rage he leapt,?And gripped his mate and desperate he fought to gain the shore; With teeth a-gleam he bucked the stream, yet swift and sure he swept To meet the mighty cataract that waited all a-roar.?And there we stood like carven wood, our faces sickly white, And watched him as he beat the foam, and inch by inch he lost; And nearer, nearer drew the fall, and fiercer grew the fight, Till on the very cascade crest a last farewell he tossed.?Then down and down and down they plunged into that pit of dread; And mad we tore along the shore to claim our bitter dead.
And from that hell of frenzied foam, that crashed and fumed and boiled, Two little bodies bubbled up, and they were heedless then;?And oh, they lay like senseless clay! and bitter hard we toiled, Yet never, never gleam of hope, and we were weary men.?And moments mounted into hours, and black was our despair;?And faint were we, and we were fain to give them up as dead, When suddenly I thrilled with hope: "Back, boys! and give him air; I feel the flutter of his heart. . . ." And, as the word I said, Dick gave a sigh, and gazed around, and saw our breathless band; And saw the sky's blue floor above, all strewn with golden fleece; And saw his comrade Jack-pot Jim, and touched him with his hand: And then there came into his eyes a look of perfect peace.?And as there, at his very feet, the thwarted river raved,?I heard him murmur low and deep:
"Thank God! the WHISKEY's saved."
Cheer
It's a mighty good world, so it is, dear lass,?When even the worst is said.?There's a smile and a tear, a sigh and a cheer,?But better be living than dead;?A joy and a pain, a loss and a gain;?There's honey and may be some gall:?Yet still I declare, foul weather or fair,?It's a mighty good world after all.
For look, lass! at night when I break from the fight,?My Kingdom's awaiting for me;?There's comfort and rest, and the warmth of your breast,?And little ones climbing my knee.?There's fire-light and song -- Oh, the world may be wrong!?Its empires may topple and fall:?My home is my care -- if gladness be there,?It's a mighty good world after all.
O heart of pure gold! I have made you a fold,?It's sheltered, sun-fondled and warm.?O little ones, rest! I have fashioned a nest;?Sleep on! you are safe from the storm.?For there's no foe like fear, and there's no friend like cheer, And sunshine will flash at our call;?So crown Love as King, and let us all sing --?"It's a mighty good world after all."
The Return
They turned him loose; he bowed his head,?A felon, bent and grey.?His face was even as the Dead,?He had no word to say.
He sought the home of his old love,?To look on her once more;?And where her roses breathed above,?He cowered beside the door.
She sat there in the shining room;?Her hair was silver grey.?He stared and stared from out the gloom;?He turned to go away.
Her roses rustled overhead.?She saw, with sudden start.?"I knew that you would come," she said,?And held him to her heart.
Her face was rapt and angel-sweet;?She touched his hair of grey;
. . . . .?BUT HE, SOB-SHAKEN, AT HER FEET,?COULD ONLY PRAY AND PRAY.
The Junior God
The Junior God looked from his place?In the conning towers of heaven,?And he saw the world through the span of space?Like a giant golf-ball driven.?And because he was bored, as some gods are,?With high celestial mirth,?He clutched the reins of a shooting star,?And he steered it down to earth.
The Junior God, 'mid leaf and bud,?Passed on with a weary air,?Till lo! he came to a pool of mud,?And some hogs were rolling there.?Then in he plunged with gleeful cries,?And down he lay supine;?For they had no mud in paradise,?And they likewise had no swine.
The Junior God forgot himself;?He squelched mud through his toes;?With the careless joy of a wanton boy?His reckless laughter rose.?Till, tired at last, in a