Poems Teachers Ask For Volume II Part 49

Then, oh, what a scene there was in that room!

Away went the elves, but down from the gloom Of the sooty old chimney came tumbling low A child's whole wardrobe, from head to toe.

How Santa Clans laughed, as he gathered them in, And fastened each one to the sock with a pin; Right to the toe he hung a blue dress,-- "She'll think it came from the sky, I guess,"

Said Saint Nicholas, smoothing the folds of blue, And tying the hood to the stocking, too.

When all the warm clothes were fastened on, And both little socks were filled and done, Then Santa Claus tucked a toy here and there, And hurried away to the frosty air, Saying, "G.o.d pity the poor, and bless the dear child Who pities them, too, on this night so wild."

The wind caught the words and bore them on high Till they died away in the midnight sky; While Saint Nicholas flew through the icy air, Bringing "peace and good will" with him everywhere.

_Sara Keables Hunt._

I Have a Rendezvous with Death

I have a rendezvous with Death At some disputed barricade, When Spring comes back with rustling shade And apple-blossoms fill the air-- I have a rendezvous with Death When Spring brings back blue days and fair.

It may be he shall take my hand And lead me into his dark land And close my eyes and quench my breath-- It may be I shall pa.s.s him still.

I have a rendezvous with Death On some scarred slope of battered hill, When Spring comes round again this year And the first meadow-flowers appear.

G.o.d knows't were better to be deep Pillowed in silk and scented down, Where Love throbs out in blissful sleep, Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath-- Where hushed awakenings are dear....

But I've a rendezvous with Death At midnight in some flaming town, When Spring trips north again this year, And I to my pledged word am true, I shall not fail that rendezvous.

_Alan Seeger._

Let Us Be Kind

Let us be kind; The way is long and lonely, And human hearts are asking for this blessing only-- That we be kind.

We cannot know the grief that men may borrow, We cannot see the souls storm-swept by sorrow, But love can s.h.i.+ne upon the way to-day, to-morrow-- Let us be kind.

Let us be kind; This is a wealth that has no measure, This is of Heaven and earth the highest treasure-- Let us be kind.

A tender word, a smile of love in meeting, A song of hope and victory to those retreating, A glimpse of G.o.d and brotherhood while life is fleeting-- Let us be kind.

Let us be kind; Around the world the tears of time are falling, And for the loved and lost these human hearts are calling-- Let us be kind.

To age and youth let gracious words be spoken; Upon the wheel of pain so many lives are broken, We live in vain who give no tender token-- Let us be kind.

Let us be kind; The sunset tints will soon be in the west, Too late the flowers are laid then on the quiet breast-- Let us be kind.

And when the angel guides have sought and found us, Their hands shall link the broken ties of earth that bound us, And Heaven and home shall brighten all around us-- Let us be kind.

_W. Lomax Childress._

The Water Mill

Oh! listen to the water mill, through all the livelong day, As the clicking of the wheels wears hour by hour away; How languidly the autumn wind does stir the withered leaves As in the fields the reapers sing, while binding up their sheaves!

A solemn proverb strikes my mind, and as a spell is cast, "The mill will never grind again with water that is past."

The summer winds revive no more leaves strewn o'er earth and main, The sickle nevermore will reap the yellow garnered grain; The rippling stream flows on--aye, tranquil, deep and still, But never glideth back again to busy water mill; The solemn proverb speaks to all with meaning deep and vast, "The mill will never grind again with water that is past."

Ah! clasp the proverb to thy soul, dear loving heart and true, For golden years are fleeting by and youth is pa.s.sing too; Ah! learn to make the most of life, nor lose one happy day, For time will ne'er return sweet joys neglected, thrown away; Nor leave one tender word unsaid, thy kindness sow broadcast-- "The mill will never grind again with water that is past."

Oh! the wasted hours of life, that have swiftly drifted by, Alas! the good we might have done, all gone without a sigh; Love that we might once have saved by a single kindly word, Thoughts conceived, but ne'er expressed, peris.h.i.+ng unpenned, unheard.

Oh! take the lesson to thy soul, forever clasp it fast-- "The mill will never grind again with water that is past."

Work on while yet the sun doth s.h.i.+ne, thou man of strength and will, The streamlet ne'er doth useless glide by clicking water mill; Nor wait until to-morrow's light beams brightly on thy way, For all that thou canst call thine own lies in the phrase "to-day."

Possession, power and blooming health must all be lost at last-- "The mill will never grind again with water that is past."

Oh! love thy G.o.d and fellowman, thyself consider last, For come it will when thou must scan dark errors of the past; Soon will this fight of life be o'er and earth recede from view, And heaven in all its glory s.h.i.+ne, where all is pure and true.

Ah! then thou'lt see more clearly still the proverb deep and vast, "The mill will never grind again with water that is past."

_Sarah Doudney._

Why the Dog's Nose Is Always Cold

What makes the dog's nose always cold?

I'll try to tell you, Curls of Gold, If you will good and quiet be, And come and stand by mamma's knee.

Well, years and years and years ago-- How many I don't really know-- There came a rain on sea and sh.o.r.e, Its like was never seen before Or since. It fell unceasing down, Till all the world began to drown; But just before it began to pour, An old, old man--his name was Noah-- Built him an Ark, that he might save His family from a wat'ry grave; And in it also he designed To shelter two of every kind Of beast. Well, dear, when it was done, And heavy clouds obscured the sun, The Noah folks to it quickly ran, And then the animals began To gravely march along in pairs; The leopards, tigers, wolves and bears, The deer, the hippopotamuses, The rabbits, squirrels, elks, walruses, The camels, goats, cats and donkeys, The tall giraffes, the beavers, monkeys, The rats, the big rhinoceroses, The dromedaries and the horses, The sheep, and mice and kangaroos, Hyenas, elephants, koodoos, And hundreds more-'twould take all day, My dear, so many names to say-- And at the very, very end Of the procession, by his friend And master, faithful dog was seen; The livelong time he'd helping been, To drive the crowd of creatures in; And now, with loud, exultant bark, He gaily sprang abroad the Ark.

Alas! so crowded was the s.p.a.ce He could not in it find a place; So, patiently, he turned about, Stood half way in, half way out, And those extremely heavy showers Descended through nine hundred hours And more; and, darling, at the close, 'Most frozen was his honest nose; And never could it lose again The dampness of that dreadful rain.

And that is what, my Curls of Gold, Made all the doggies' noses cold.

The African Chief

Chained in the market-place he stood, A man of giant frame, Amid the gathering mult.i.tude That shrunk to hear his name-- All stern of look and strong of limb, His dark eye on the ground:-- And silently they gazed on him, As on a lion bound.

Vainly, but well, that chief had fought, He was a captive now, Yet pride, that fortune humbles not, Was written on his brow.

The scars his dark broad bosom wore Showed warrior true and brave; A prince among his tribe before, He could not be a slave.

Then to his conqueror he spake: "My brother is a king; Undo this necklace from my neck, And take this bracelet ring, And send me where my brother reigns, And I will fill thy hands With store of ivory from the plains, And gold-dust from the sands."

"Not for thy ivory nor thy gold Will I unbind thy chain; That b.l.o.o.d.y hand shall never hold The battle-spear again.

A price thy nation never gave Shall yet be paid for thee; For thou shalt be the Christian's slave, In lands beyond the sea."

Then wept the warrior chief and bade To shred his locks away; And one by one, each heavy braid Before the victor lay.