When Day is Done | Page 7

talked o' the way that people sinned,?An' the burnin' fires that would cook you sure?When you came to die, if you wasn't pure--?Such a gloomy affair it used to be?Whenever the minister came for tea.
But now when the minister comes to call?I get him out for a game of ball,?And you'd never know if you'd see him bat,?Without any coat or vest or hat,?That he is a minister, no, siree!?He looks like a regular man to me.?An' he knows just how to go down to the dirt?For the grounders hot without gettin' hurt--?An' when they call us, both him an' me?Have to git washed up again for tea.
Our minister says if you'll just play fair?You'll be fit for heaven or anywhere;?An' fun's all right if your hands are clean?An' you never cheat an' you don't get mean.?He says that he never has understood?Why a feller can't play an' still be good.?An' my Paw says that he's just the kind?Of a minister that he likes to find--?So I'm always tickled as I can be?Whenever our minister comes for tea.
The Age of Ink
Swiftly the changes come. Each day?Sees some lost beauty blown away?And some new touch of lovely grace?Come into life to take its place.?The little babe that once we had?One morning woke a roguish lad;?The babe that we had put to bed?Out of our arms and lives had fled.
Frocks vanished from our castle then,?Ne'er to be worn or seen again,?And in his knickerbocker pride?He boasted pockets at each side?And stored them deep with various things--?Stones, tops and jacks and-colored strings;?Then for a time we claimed the joy?Of calling him our little boy.
Brief was the reign of such a spell.?One morning sounded out a bell;?With tears I saw her brown eyes swim?And knew that it was calling him.?Time, the harsh master of us all,?Was bidding him to heed his call;?This shadow fell across life's pool--?Our boy was on his way to school.
Our little boy! And still we dreamed,?For such a little boy he seemed!?And yesterday, with eyes aglow?Like one who has just come to know?Some great and unexpected bliss,?He bounded in, announcing this:?"Oh, Dad! Oh, Ma! Say, what d'you think??This year we're going to write with ink!"
Here was a change I'd not foreseen,?Another step from what had been.?I paused a little while to think?About this older age of ink--?What follows this great step, thought I,?What next shall come as the time goes by??And something said: "His pathway leads?Unto the day he'll write with deeds."
No Use Sighin'
No use frettin' when the rain comes down,?No use grievin' when the gray clouds frown,?No use sighin' when the wind blows strong,?No use wailin' when the world's all wrong;?Only thing that a man can do?Is work an' wait till the sky gets blue.
No use mopin' when you lose the game,?No use sobbin' if you're free from shame,?No use cryin' when the harm is done,?Just keep on tryin' an' workin' on;?Only thing for a man to do,?Is take the loss an' begin anew.
No use weepin' when the milk is spilled,?No use growlin' when your hopes are killed,?No use kickin' when the lightnin' strikes?Or the floods come along an' wreck your dykes;?Only thing for a man right then?Is to grit his teeth an' start again.
For it's how life is an' the way things are?That you've got to face if you travel far;?An' the storms will come an' the failures, too,?An' plans go wrong spite of all you do;?An' the only thing that will help you win,?Is the grit of a man and a stern set chin.
No Children!
No children in the house to play--?It must be hard to live that way!?I wonder what the people do?When night comes on and the work is through,?With no glad little folks to shout,?No eager feet to race about,?No youthful tongues to chatter on?About the joy that's been and gone??The house might be a castle fine,?But what a lonely place to dine!
No children in the house at all,?No fingermarks upon the wall,?No corner where the toys are piled--?Sure indication of a child.?No little lips to breathe the prayer?That God shall keep you in His care,?No glad caress and welcome sweet?When night returns you to your street;?No little lips a kiss to give--?Oh, what a lonely way to live!
No children in the house! I fear?We could not stand it half a year.?What would we talk about at night,?Plan for and work with all our might,?Hold common dreams about and find?True union of heart and mind,?If we two had no greater care?Than what we both should eat and wear??We never knew love's brightest flame?Until the day the baby came.
And now we could not get along?Without their laughter and their song.?Joy is not bottled on a shelf,?It cannot feed upon itself,?And even love, if it shall wear,?Must find its happiness in care;?Dull we'd become of mind and