 | Bits of Talk, in verse and prose, for young folks |  |
57
ST. MARTIN'S CLOAK.
St. Martin was a soldier
Of Constantine the Great;
While yet he was a stripling
He bore full armor's weight;
He fought right well and valiantly;
No worse because he prayed;
His comrades sometime scoffed at him,
When the cross's sign he made.
But they loved him in their hearts,
And revered his saintly life,
And felt safer with him close to them,
In the thickest of the strife.
Of Constantine the Great;
While yet he was a stripling
He bore full armor's weight;
He fought right well and valiantly;
No worse because he prayed;
His comrades sometime scoffed at him,
When the cross's sign he made.
But they loved him in their hearts,
And revered his saintly life,
And felt safer with him close to them,
In the thickest of the strife.
They tell a many tales of him;
His generosity;
His love for all the poor; his deeds
Of gracious charity;
Above them all, this one is sweet
And wonderful to read,
And holds a tender lesson
For us to learn and heed.
Oh if we lived to-day, as lived
Those blessed ancient saints,
This world of ours less full would be
Of weeping and complaints.
His generosity;
His love for all the poor; his deeds
Of gracious charity;
Above them all, this one is sweet
And wonderful to read,
And holds a tender lesson
For us to learn and heed.
58
Those blessed ancient saints,
This world of ours less full would be
Of weeping and complaints.
One dreadful winter, when the cold
Was so bitter that it killed
Men on the streets, and, spite of fires,
In houses they were chilled,
St. Martin went one morning
To pass the city's gate,
And there he saw a ragged man,
Whose pitiable state
So moved his heart, that in a trice
He drew his good broadsword,
And cut his warm fur cloak in two
Without a single word,
And threw the beggar-man one-half;
Then in the other, clad
But meagrely, he rode all day
Half frozen, but most glad.
Was so bitter that it killed
Men on the streets, and, spite of fires,
In houses they were chilled,
St. Martin went one morning
To pass the city's gate,
And there he saw a ragged man,
Whose pitiable state
So moved his heart, that in a trice
He drew his good broadsword,
And cut his warm fur cloak in two
Without a single word,
And threw the beggar-man one-half;
Then in the other, clad
But meagrely, he rode all day
Half frozen, but most glad.
At night, St. Martin dreamed a dream,
Such dreams as angels bring;
They led him in his dream to Heaven,
To see a wondrous thing.
He saw the Good Lord walking
Along the golden street,
With angels crowding round him,
On silver pinions fleet;
And lo, upon his shoulders
A wrap of fur he bore,
The self-same wrap of fur which matched
The half St. Martin wore!
Such dreams as angels bring;
They led him in his dream to Heaven,
To see a wondrous thing.
59
Along the golden street,
With angels crowding round him,
On silver pinions fleet;
And lo, upon his shoulders
A wrap of fur he bore,
The self-same wrap of fur which matched
The half St. Martin wore!
And turning to the angels,
With smile, the Good Lord said,
“Now do ye know, my angels,
Who thus hath me array'd?
My servant Martin hath done this,
Though he is unbaptized,
And dreameth not his charity
By me is known and prized.”
With smile, the Good Lord said,
“Now do ye know, my angels,
Who thus hath me array'd?
My servant Martin hath done this,
Though he is unbaptized,
And dreameth not his charity
By me is known and prized.”
The next day, while the vision
Glowed within him like a flame,
Young Martin sought a holy priest,
Who baptized him in God's name.
And after that, for thirty years
He fought the Emperor's fights
As one whose eye and hand are nerved
By Heaven's sounds and sights.
Glowed within him like a flame,
Young Martin sought a holy priest,
Who baptized him in God's name.
And after that, for thirty years
He fought the Emperor's fights
As one whose eye and hand are nerved
By Heaven's sounds and sights.
| Bits of Talk, in verse and prose, for young folks | |