The Verse-Book Of A Homely Woman | Page 6

rends my heart to think I cannot go?And minister to him. . . .
I know. I know.
Then, there are other things,?Dear Lord . . . more little strings?That pull my heart. Now Baby feels her
feet?She loves to run outside into the street?And Jane's hands are so full, she'll never
see. . . .?And I'm quite sure the clean clothes won't
be aired --?At least, not properly.?And, oh, I can't, I really can't be spared --?My little house calls so!
I know.?And I am waiting here to help and bless.?Lay down your head. Lay down your hopelessness
And let Me speak.?You are so weary, child, you are so weak.?But let us reason out?The darkness and the doubt;?This torturing fear that tosses you about.
I hold the universe. I count the stars.?And out of shortened lives I build the?ages. . . .
But, Lord, while such high things Thy
thought engages,?I fear -- forgive me -- lest?Amid those limitless eternal spaces?Thou shouldest, in the high and heavenly
places,?Pass over my affairs as things of nought.?There are so many houses just like mine.?And I so earth-bound, and Thyself Divine.?It seems impossible that Thou shouldst
care?Just what my babies wear;?And what John gets to eat; . . . and
can it be?A circumstance of great concern to Thee?Whether I live or die?
Have you forgotten then, My child, that I,?The Infinite, the Limitless, laid down?The method of existence that I knew,?And took on Me a nature just like you??I laboured day by day?In the same dogged way?That you have tackled household tasks.
And then,?Remember, child, remember once again?Your own beloveds . . . did you really
think --?(Those days you toiled to get their meat
and drink,?And made their clothes, and tried to understand
Their little ailments) -- did you think your
hand,?Your feeble hand, was keeping them from ill??I gave them life, and life is more than meat;?Those little limbs, so comely and so sweet.?You can make raiment for them, and are glad,?But can you add?One cubit to their stature? Yet they grow!?Oh, child, hands off! Hands off! And
leave them so.?I guarded hitherto, I guard them still.
I have let go at last. I have let go.?And, oh, the rest it is, dear God, to know?My dear ones are so safe, for Thou wilt
keep.?Hands off, at last! Now, I can go to
sleep.
In Convalescence
Not long ago, I prayed for dying
grace,?For then I thought to see Thee face to
face.
And now I ask (Lord, 'tis a weakling's
cry)?That Thou wilt give me grace to live, not
die.
Such foolish prayers! I know. Yet
pray I must.?Lord help me -- help me not to see the
dust!
And not to nag, nor fret because the blind?Hangs crooked, and the curtain sags behind.
But, oh! The kitchen cupboards! What a
sight!?'T'will take at least a month to get them
right.
And that last cocoa had a smoky taste,?And all the milk has boiled away to waste!
And -- no, I resolutely will not think?About the saucepans, nor about the sink.
These light afflictions are but temporal
things --?To rise above them, wilt Thou lend me
wings?
Then I shall smile when Jane, with towzled
hair?(And lumpy gruel!), clatters up the stair.
Homesick
I shut my eyes to rest 'em, just a bit
ago it seems,?An' back among the Cotswolds I were
wanderin' in me dreams.?I saw the old grey homestead, with the
rickyard set around,?An' catched the lowin' of the herd, a
pleasant, homelike sound.?Then on I went a-singin', through the
pastures where the sheep?Was lyin' underneath the elms, a-tryin' for
to sleep.
An' where the stream was tricklin' by, half
stifled by the grass,?Heaped over thick with buttercups, I saw
the corncrake pass.?For 'twas Summer, Summer, SUMMER!
An' the blue forget-me-nots?Wiped out this dusty city and the smoky
chimbley pots.?I clean forgot My Lady's gown, the
dazzlin' sights I've seen;?I was back among the Cotswolds, where
me heart has always been.
Then through the sixteen-acre on I went,
a stiffish climb,?Right to the bridge, where all our sheep
comes up at shearin' time.?There was the wild briar roses hangin'
down so pink an' sweet,?A-droppin' o' their fragrance on the clover
at my feet?An' here me heart stopped beatin', for
down by Gatcombe's Wood?My lad was workin' with his team, as only
my lad could!
"COME BACK!" was what the tricklin' brook
an' breezes seemed to say.?"'TIS LONESOME ON THE COTSWOLDS NOW THAT
MARY DREW'S AWAY."
An' back again I'm goin' (for me wages
has been paid,?An' they're lookin' through the papers for
another kitchen maid).?Back to the old grey homestead, an' the
uplands cool an' green,?To my lad among the Cotswolds, where
me heart has always been!
On Washing Day
"I'm going to gran'ma's for a bit?My mother's got the copper lit;?An' piles of clothes are on the floor,?An' steam comes out the wash-house door;?An' Mrs. Griggs has come, an' she?Is just as cross as she can be.?She's had her lunch, and ate a lot;?I saw her squeeze the coffee-pot.?An' when I helped her make the starch,?She said: 'Now, Miss, you just quick
march!?What? Touch them soap-suds if you
durst;?I'll see you in the blue-bag first!'?An' mother dried my frock, an' said:?'Come back in