 | Lines in Pleasant Places |  |
142
“POOR BOY!”
“Poor boy!” the mother fondly sighed,
When she had bid the lad farewell,
But in her eye was a lofty pride
That spoke more than her tongue would tell
When she had bid the lad farewell,
But in her eye was a lofty pride
That spoke more than her tongue would tell
And though her nature said “poor boy,”
He in her breast held grander place,
And thrilled it with a nobler joy
Than were he heir of wealth and grace.
He in her breast held grander place,
And thrilled it with a nobler joy
Than were he heir of wealth and grace.
His was the heart to do and dare
In manly battle with the wrong;
She might not in his conflict share,
But she could yield him and be strong.
In manly battle with the wrong;
She might not in his conflict share,
But she could yield him and be strong.
“Poor boy!” O, epithet misplaced.
Not poor by laws that reckon worth;
The noblest record fame has traced
Has had no more exalted birth.
Not poor by laws that reckon worth;
The noblest record fame has traced
Has had no more exalted birth.
The soul that thus in Duty's path
Bounds forward at its first appeal,
More grandeur in the humblest hath
Than titled state that cannot feel.
Bounds forward at its first appeal,
143
Than titled state that cannot feel.
Mother, though heavy with your fears,
Throw all your burdening doubts away;
Discard the ministry of tears—
Your boy is crowned a king to-day!
Throw all your burdening doubts away;
Discard the ministry of tears—
Your boy is crowned a king to-day!
Not poor! could you but see the goal
For those the race have nobly run,
'Twould glad your yearning mother-soul
To mark the glory he has won.
For those the race have nobly run,
'Twould glad your yearning mother-soul
To mark the glory he has won.
Not eighty years of golden sands,
Nor life, though spotless of a shame,
So high an eminence commands
As the young hero's laurelled name.
Nor life, though spotless of a shame,
So high an eminence commands
As the young hero's laurelled name.
Thank God, O mother, who hath given
This treasure of immortal price,
That you might render back to Heaven
Your wealth of love as sacrifice.
This treasure of immortal price,
That you might render back to Heaven
Your wealth of love as sacrifice.
| Lines in Pleasant Places | |