Poems Teachers Ask For Volume I Part 22

The Wild White Rose

Oh, that I might have my request, and that G.o.d would grant me the thing that I long for.--_Job 6:8._

It was peeping through the brambles, that little wild white rose, Where the hawthorn hedge was planted, my garden to enclose.

All beyond was fern and heather, on the breezy, open moor; All within was sun and shelter, and the wealth of beauty's store.

But I did not heed the fragrance of flow'ret or of tree, For my eyes were on that rosebud, and it grew too high for me.

In vain I strove to reach it through the tangled ma.s.s of green, It only smiled and nodded behind its th.o.r.n.y screen.

Yet through that summer morning I lingered near the spot: Oh, why do things seem sweeter if we possess them not?

My garden buds were blooming, but all that I could see Was that little mocking wild rose, hanging just too high for me.

So in life's wider garden there are buds of promise, too, Beyond our reach to gather, but not beyond our view; And like the little charmer that tempted me astray, They steal out half the brightness of many a summer's day.

Oh, hearts that fail with longing for some forbidden tree, Look up and learn a lesson from my white rose and me.

'Tis wiser far to number the blessings at my feet, Than ever to be sighing for just one bud more sweet.

My sunbeams and my shadows fall from a pierced Hand, I can surely trust His wisdom since His heart I understand; And maybe in the morning, when His blessed face I see, He will tell me why my white rose grew just too high for me.

_Ellen H. Willis._

L'Envoi

When Earth's last picture is painted, and the tubes are twisted and dried, When the oldest colors have faded, and the youngest critic has died, We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it--lie down for an aeon or two, Till the Master of All Good Workmen shall set us to work anew!

And those who were good shall be happy: they shall sit in a golden chair; They shall splash at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comet's hair; They shall find real saints to draw from--Magdalene, Peter and Paul; They shall work for an age at a sitting and never be tired at all.

And only the Master shall praise us, and only the Master shall blame; And no one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame; But each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star, Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the G.o.d of Things as They Are!

_Rudyard Kipling._

Whistling in Heaven

You're surprised that I ever should say so?

Just wait till the reason I've given Why I say I sha'n't care for the music, Unless there is whistling in heaven.

Then you'll think it no very great wonder, Nor so strange, nor so bold a conceit, That unless there's a boy there a-whistling, Its music will not be complete.

It was late in the autumn of '40; We had come from our far Eastern home Just in season to build us a cabin, Ere the cold of the winter should come; And we lived all the while in our wagon That husband was clearing the place Where the house was to stand; and the clearing And building it took many days.

So that our heads were scarce sheltered In under its roof when our store Of provisions was almost exhausted, And husband must journey for more; And the nearest place where he could get them Was yet such a distance away, That it forced him from home to be absent At least a whole night and a day.

You see, we'd but two or three neighbors, And the nearest was more than a mile; And we hadn't found time yet to know them, For we had been busy the while.

And the man who had helped at the raising Just staid till the job was well done; And as soon as his money was paid him Had shouldered his axe and had gone.

Well, husband just kissed me and started-- I could scarcely suppress a deep groan At the thought of remaining with baby So long in the house alone; For, my dear, I was childish and timid, And braver ones might well have feared, For the wild wolf was often heard howling.

And savages sometimes appeared.

But I smothered my grief and my terror Till husband was off on his ride, And then in my arms I took Josey, And all the day long sat and cried, As I thought of the long, dreary hours When the darkness of night should fall, And I was so utterly helpless, With no one in reach of my call.

And when the night came with its terrors, To hide ev'ry ray of light, I hung up a quilt by the window, And, almost dead with affright, I kneeled by the side of the cradle, Scarce daring to draw a full breath, Lest the baby should wake, and its crying Should bring us a horrible death.

There I knelt until late in the evening And scarcely an inch had I stirred, When suddenly, far in the distance, A sound as of whistling I heard.

I started up dreadfully frightened, For fear 'twas an Indian's call; And then very soon I remembered The red man ne'er whistles at all.

And when I was sure 'twas a white man, I thought, were he coming for ill, He'd surely approach with more caution-- Would come without warning, and still.

Then the sound, coming nearer and nearer, Took the form of a tune light and gay, And I knew I needn't fear evil From one who could whistle that way.

Very soon I heard footsteps approaching, Then came a peculiar dull thump, As if some one was heavily striking An ax in the top of a stump; And then, in another brief moment, There came a light tap on the door, When quickly I undid the fast'ning, And in stepped a boy, and before

There was either a question or answer Or either had time to speak, I just threw my glad arms around him, And gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Then I started back, scared at my boldness.

But he only smiled at my fright, As he said, "I'm your neighbor's boy, Ellick, Come to tarry with you through the night.

"We saw your husband go eastward, And made up our minds where he'd gone, And I said to the rest of our people, 'That woman is there all alone, And I venture she's awfully lonesome, And though she may have no great fear, I think she would feel a bit safer If only a boy were but near.'

"So, taking my axe on my shoulder, For fear that a savage might stray Across my path and need scalping, I started right down this way; And coming in sight of the cabin, And thinking to save you alarm, I whistled a tune, just to show you I didn't intend any harm.

"And so here I am, at your service; But if you don't want me to stay, Why, all you need do is to say so, And should'ring my axe, I'll away."

I dropped in a chair and near fainted, Just at thought of his leaving me then, And his eye gave a knowing bright twinkle As he said, "I guess I'll remain."

And then I just sat there and told him How terribly frightened I'd been, How his face was to me the most welcome Of any I ever had seen; And then I lay down with the baby, And slept all the blessed night through, For I felt I was safe from all danger Near so brave a young fellow, and true.

So now, my dear friend, do you wonder, Since such a good reason I've given, Why I say I sha'n't care for the music, Unless there is whistling in heaven?

Yes, often I've said so in earnest, And now what I've said I repeat, That unless there's a boy there a-whistling, Its music will not be complete.

Sleep, Baby, Sleep

Sleep, baby, sleep!

Thy father's watching the sheep, Thy mother's shaking the dreamland tree, And down drops a little dream for thee.

Sleep, baby, sleep!

Sleep, baby, sleep!

The large stars are the sheep, The little stars are the lambs, I guess, The bright moon is the shepherdess.

Sleep, baby, sleep!

Sleep, baby, sleep!

Thy Savior loves His sheep; He is the Lamb of G.o.d on high Who for our sakes came down to die.