The Miracle and Other Poems | Page 4

old, and the sad, and the broken, Often he lingered, a well-beloved guest; Dear was his voice, whatever the word spoken, Sweetening their day with a song or a jest.
In the far times of brave ballad and story, Men of his make kept the gates of the sea, Wrought mighty deeds of power and glory, Scattered their tyrants, and set the land free!
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In the far times when perchance hearts were stronger, When for a faith men could face death alone, And it would seem that love lasted longer, Such a white soul would have come to its own.
Down in the city the people but noted One who was silent when things went awry, Toiled at dull tasks, and was strangely devoted To small deeds of kindness that others passed by.
Down in the city the people but noted One who thought little of wealth and its ways; One whose true words were full often misquoted, One who laughed lightly at blame or at praise.

A SOUTHERN LULLABY
Little honey baby, shet yo' eyes up tight;-- (Shadow-man is comin' from de moon!)-- You's as sweet as roses if dey is so pink an white; (Shadow-man '11 get here mighty soon.)
Little honey baby, keep yo' footses still!-- (Rocky-bye, oh, rocky, rocky-bye!) Hush yo' now, an listen to dat lonesome whippo'-will; Don't yo' fix yo' lip an start to cry.
Little honey baby, stop dat winkin' quick!; (Hear de hoot-owl in de cotton-wood!) Yess--I sees yo' eyes adoin' dat dere triflin' trick-- (He gets chillun if dey isn't good.)
Little honey baby, what yo' think yo' see?-- (Sister keep on climbin' to de sky--) Dat's a June bug--it aint got no stinger, lak a bee-- (Reach de glory city by an by.)
Little honey baby, what yo' skeery at?-- (Go down, Moses--down to Phar-e-oh,)-- No--dat isn't nuffin but a furry fly-round bat;-- (Say, he'd betta let dose people go.)
Little honey baby, yo' is all ma own,-- Deed yo' is.--Yes,--dat's a fia-fly;-- If I didn't hab yo'--reckon I'd be all alone; (Rocky-bye--oh, rocky, rocky-bye.)
Little honey baby, shet yo' eyes up tight;-- (Shadow man is comin' from de moon,) You's as sweet as roses, if dey is so pink and white; (Shadow-man '11 get here mighty soon.)
The lines in brackets are supposed to be sung or chanted. The Southern "Mammy" seldom sang a song through, but interladed it with comments.--V.S.

THE FAIRY CLOCK
Silver clock! O silver clock! tell to me the time o' day! Is there yet a little hour left for us to work and play? Tell me when the sun will set--tiny globe of silver-grey.
It has been so glad a world since the coming of the morn, Oft I wondered when I met any souls who seemed forlorn-- And I scarce gave heed to those who were old or travel worn.
Mayhap I have loved too well the merry fleeting things; Run too lightly with the wind--chased too many shining wings; Thought too seldom of the night, and the silence that it brings.
Well I fear me I have been but an idler in the sun-- All unfinished are the tasks long and long ago begun-- In the dark perchance they weep, who have left their work undone.
And I know each black-frocked friar preacheth sermons that, alas! Fain would halt the dancing feet of those careless ones who pass Down a sweet and primrose path, through the ribbons of the grass.
Silver-clock! O Silver-clock! It was only yesterday Dandelions flecked the field, starry bright, and gold and gay; You are but the ghost of one--little globe of silver-grey!
Tell me--tell me of the hour--for there is so much to do! Is it early? Is it late? Fairy clock! 0 tell me true, As I blow you down the wind, out upon a road of blue.

THE SLUMBER ANGEL
When day is ended, and grey twilight flies On silent wings across the tired land, The slumber angel cometh from the skies-- The slumber angel of the peaceful eyes, And with the scarlet poppies in his hand.
His robes are dappled like the moonlit seas, His hair in waves of silver floats afar; He weareth lotus-bloom and sweet heartsease, With tassels of the rustling green fir trees, As down the dusk he steps from star to star.
Above the world he swings his curfew bell, And sleep falls soft on golden heads and white; The daisies curl their leaves beneath his spell, The prisoner who wearies in his cell Forgets awhile, and dreams throughout the night.
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Even so, in peace, comes that great Lord of rest Who crowneth men with amaranthine flowers; Who telleth them the truths they have but guessed, Who giveth them the things they love the best, Beyond this restless, rocking world of ours.

THE LONELY ROAD
We used to fear the lonely road That twisted round the hill; It dipped down