The Cornflower, and Other Poems Part 11

But in the house that he had left A woman whispered through her tears: "Christ, comfort me, who am bereft Of love that failed not through the years."

And oft his stalwart sons and tall Would murmur as their eyes grew dim: "A useful life is best of all; G.o.d grant we pattern after him!"

A sick man sighed: "I'll miss his smile;"

A shrivelled crone did shake her head And mutter to herself the while How oft his hand had given bread.

A maimed child sobbed: "He carried me To gather blossoms in the wood,"

And more than one said, brokenly: "A man who always did me good."

One came at twilight to the grave, And knelt and kissed the fresh-turned sod.

"Oh, faithful soul," she cried, "and brave, 'Twas you that led me back to G.o.d!

"Back from the sin, the shame, the snare-- Forget your trust and faith?--not I; Each helpful word, each tender prayer, I will remember till I die!"

Two men that sleep: above the one The monument an artist's hand Has fas.h.i.+oned from the block of stone, A thing of beauty, tall and grand;

Above the other naught--what then?

Ere he did fold his hands for rest, He builded in the hearts of men The fairest monument and best.

THE LONESOMEST HOUSE.

It's the lonesomest house you ever saw, This big gray house where I stay.

I don't call it living at all, at all, Since my mother's gone away.

Only four weeks now--it seems a year-- Gone to heaven, the preacher said, And my heart is just broke awaiting her, And my eyes are always red.

I stay out of doors till I'm almost froze, 'Cause every identical room Seems empty enough to scare a boy, And packed to the door with gloom.

Oh, but I hate to come in to my meals, And her not there in her place, Pouring the tea, and pa.s.sing the things, With that lovin' s.h.i.+ne on her face!

But night-time is worse. I creep up the stair And to bed as still 's a mouse, And cry in my pillow, it seems so hard To stay in this old gray house!

And n.o.body giving me good-night hugs, Or smoothing my hair back--so; Things a boy makes fun of before his chums, But things that he likes, you know.

There's no one to go to when things go wrong-- Oh, she was so safe and sure!

There wasn't a thing could tackle a boy That she couldn't up and cure.

There's lots of women, it seems to me, That wouldn't be missed so much, The women whose boys are 'most growed up, And old maid aunties, and such.

I can't understand it at all, at all, Why on earth she should have to go, And leave me here in this old gray house, Needin' an' wantin' her so!

Oh, the very lonesomest thing of all In the wide, wide world to-day Is a big boy of twelve whose heart's just broke 'Cause his mother's gone away!

DADDY'S BOY.

It is time for bed, so the nurse declares, But I slip off to the nook, The cozy nook at the head of the stairs, Where daddy's reading his book.

"I want to sit here awhile on your knee,"

I say, as I toast my feet, "And I want you to pop some corn for me, And give me an apple sweet."

I tickle him under the chin--just so-- And I say, "Please can't I, dad?"

Then I kiss his mouth so he can't say no To his own little black-eyed lad.

"You can't have a pony this year at all,"

Says my stingy Uncle Joe, After promising it--and there's the stall Fixed ready for it, you know.

One can't depend on his uncle, I see, It's daddies that are the best, And I find mine and climb up on his knee As he takes his smoke and rest.

I tickle him under the chin--just so-- And I say, "Please can't I, dad?"

Then I kiss his mouth so he can't say no To his own little black-eyed lad.

I want to skate, and oh, what a fuss For fear I'll break through the ice!

This woman that keeps our house for us, She isn't what I call nice.

She wants a boy to be just like a girl, To play in the house all day, Keep his face all clean and his hair in curl, But dad doesn't think that way.

I tickle him under the chin--just so-- And I say, "Please can't I, dad?"

Then I kiss his mouth so he can't say no To his own little black-eyed lad.

"You're growing so big," says my dad to me.

"Soon be a man, I suppose, Too big to climb on your old dad's knee And toast your ten little toes."

Then his voice it gets the funniest shake, And oh, but he hugs me tight!

I say, when I can't keep my eyes awake, "Let me sleep with you to-night."

I tickle him under the chin--just so-- And I say, "Please can't I, dad?"

Then I kiss his mouth so he can't say no To his own little black-eyed lad.

JANET.

Janet, she was trim and small, Swift her feet could go; Sandy, he was great and tall, Sandy, he was slow.

Dark the curls on Janet's heid, Dark her een, and true; Sandy's hair was straicht an' reid, Sandy's een were blue.

Sandy had been coortin' lang, Sandy wasna bold, Blushed when Janet trilled the sang, Sweet as it is old: