 | [The sad little singer, in] Poems for our darlings |  |
THE SAD LITTLE SINGER.
The students thronged the school-room,
A crowd of merry girls;
Bright heads bent o'er the lesson,
Lovely with braids and curls.
A crowd of merry girls;
Bright heads bent o'er the lesson,
Lovely with braids and curls.
The master stood on the platform,
And like a wizard he spoke,
And at once the sweet young voices
Into wonderful singing broke.
And like a wizard he spoke,
And at once the sweet young voices
Into wonderful singing broke.
With infinite labor and patience
He taught them, and explained
The deep and difficult lesson,
Till not a doubt remained.
He taught them, and explained
The deep and difficult lesson,
Till not a doubt remained.
Again rang the fresh, clear voices,
And youth and beauty and grace,
Anxious for his approval,
Looked up in the master's face.
And youth and beauty and grace,
Anxious for his approval,
Looked up in the master's face.
But one among the maidens
Desponding drooped aside;
The gifts of her happy comrades
To her seemed all denied.
Desponding drooped aside;
The gifts of her happy comrades
To her seemed all denied.
Poor and plain and timid,
Doubtful, perplexed and sad,
She envied her fortunate school-mates.
Who sang so loud and glad.
Doubtful, perplexed and sad,
She envied her fortunate school-mates.
Who sang so loud and glad.
But the searching eye of the master
Found her, and calm and mild,
He questioned and encouraged,
And cheered the despairing child;
Found her, and calm and mild,
He questioned and encouraged,
And cheered the despairing child;
And his golden moments gave her
When other tasks were done,
Till she could take her place at last,
And sing with the proudest one.
When other tasks were done,
Till she could take her place at last,
And sing with the proudest one.
And the student worshiped her teacher;
Hardly her heart could hold
The reverence and the gratitude
That never could be told.
Hardly her heart could hold
The reverence and the gratitude
That never could be told.
And as Christmas time drew nearer,
Her busy fingers strove
Out of her poverty to work
Some token of her love.
Her busy fingers strove
Out of her poverty to work
Some token of her love.
And so she wrought with patience,
A humble gift and small;
Oh, poor and mean it was, she knew,
Poor, but it was her all.
A humble gift and small;
Oh, poor and mean it was, she knew,
Poor, but it was her all.
Again the lesson was finished,
The singing so sweet and loud,
And the grand, still face of the master
Looked down on the radiant crowd.
The singing so sweet and loud,
And the grand, still face of the master
Looked down on the radiant crowd.
And he held in his hand the token
Of the student poor and plain;
Astonished the young girl listened
With joy that was almost pain.
Of the student poor and plain;
Astonished the young girl listened
With joy that was almost pain.
For, “Better than any treasure,”
He said, “of gold or pearl,
Or crown of king or kaiser,
Was the gift of this little girl!”
He said, “of gold or pearl,
Or crown of king or kaiser,
Was the gift of this little girl!”
Could she believe her senses?
He surely was standing there,
The light full on his quiet face
And beautiful silver hair.
He surely was standing there,
The light full on his quiet face
And beautiful silver hair.
She knew she was not dreaming!
Her wide eyes shone so bright
It seemed as if heaven's gladness
Had opened upon her sight.
Her wide eyes shone so bright
It seemed as if heaven's gladness
Had opened upon her sight.
And the glory of that moment
No future can destroy:
She found her way for once, poor child,
To the topmost heights of joy.
No future can destroy:
She found her way for once, poor child,
To the topmost heights of joy.
| [The sad little singer, in] Poems for our darlings | |