 | Lyrical Poems |  |
201
MY VOCATION.
Through life I went blundering on,
Trying this thing and that for employ;
But of trades and professions was none
Would suit such a cross-witted boy.
One day, when I strayed through the wood,
All dark and despairing of good,
I heard a sweet bird on the spray,
And thus it seemed chirping to say—
“Why don't you try to sing, sing,
Cheerily, cheerily, poor little thing?”
Trying this thing and that for employ;
But of trades and professions was none
Would suit such a cross-witted boy.
One day, when I strayed through the wood,
All dark and despairing of good,
I heard a sweet bird on the spray,
And thus it seemed chirping to say—
“Why don't you try to sing, sing,
Cheerily, cheerily, poor little thing?”
Of theology, warranted sound,
I made a devout navigation,
But the bigots soon ran me aground,
With sulphurous blasts of damnation.
Besides, I soon found that God's plan
Was too vast for the small wit of man;
So I took the sweet hint from the spray,
And my heart with the bird 'gan to say—
“Love man and his Maker, and sing, sing,
Piously, piously, poor little thing!”
I made a devout navigation,
But the bigots soon ran me aground,
With sulphurous blasts of damnation.
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Was too vast for the small wit of man;
So I took the sweet hint from the spray,
And my heart with the bird 'gan to say—
“Love man and his Maker, and sing, sing,
Piously, piously, poor little thing!”
I served with a lawyer some time,
And I used the lithe trick of the jaw,
But to me all their speeches sublime
Seemed very like thrashing of straw.
With words very deftly they wrangled,
But the sense in the scuffle was strangled;
So I went to the bird on the spray,
And my heart with its song seemed to say—
“Leave wrangling and jangling, and sing, sing,
Peacefully, peacefully, poor little thing!”
And I used the lithe trick of the jaw,
But to me all their speeches sublime
Seemed very like thrashing of straw.
With words very deftly they wrangled,
But the sense in the scuffle was strangled;
So I went to the bird on the spray,
And my heart with its song seemed to say—
“Leave wrangling and jangling, and sing, sing,
Peacefully, peacefully, poor little thing!”
To combat the worst of our foes,
With the Doctors I then did embark;
The disease they were quick to expose,
But the cure was to guess in the dark.
So, being no friend of humbug,
I threw away lancet and drug;
And I went to the bird on the spray,
And my heart with its song seemed to say—
“The best of all cures is to sing, sing,
Hopefully, hopefully, poor little thing!”
With the Doctors I then did embark;
The disease they were quick to expose,
But the cure was to guess in the dark.
So, being no friend of humbug,
I threw away lancet and drug;
203
And my heart with its song seemed to say—
“The best of all cures is to sing, sing,
Hopefully, hopefully, poor little thing!”
And now I'm a minstrel by trade,
And though I don't gather much money,
Since the time when that bird I obeyed,
My heart is a flower full of honey.
From grim theological doctors,
From lawyers and drug-concoctors,
I'm free as a bird on the spray;
And a voice in my heart still doth say—
“Thy wisdom below is to sing, sing,
Fearlessly, fearlessly, poor little thing!”
And though I don't gather much money,
Since the time when that bird I obeyed,
My heart is a flower full of honey.
From grim theological doctors,
From lawyers and drug-concoctors,
I'm free as a bird on the spray;
And a voice in my heart still doth say—
“Thy wisdom below is to sing, sing,
Fearlessly, fearlessly, poor little thing!”
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