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 | [Poems by Cary in] Early and late poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
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A BALLAD OF CALDEN WATER.
Forward and back, from shore to shore,
All day the boat hath wended;
But now old Andrew drops his oar,
As if his task were ended.
All day the boat hath wended;
But now old Andrew drops his oar,
As if his task were ended.
“The clouds are gathering black,” he said,
“The pine-tree wildly tossing;
The traveller must be sore bestead
Who seeks to-night the crossing.”
“The pine-tree wildly tossing;
The traveller must be sore bestead
Who seeks to-night the crossing.”
He looks, and sees from vale or hill
No 'lated horseman riding;
But what is this, so white and still,
Adown the pathway gliding!
No 'lated horseman riding;
But what is this, so white and still,
Adown the pathway gliding!
He fears to meet some spirit pale,
Or wraith from out the water;
He sees the “Daisy of the Dale,”
The proud Lord Gowen's daughter.
Or wraith from out the water;
He sees the “Daisy of the Dale,”
The proud Lord Gowen's daughter.
Ah! many a time that timid dove,
Swift from her shadow flying,
Hath braved the darkness, all for love,
To Calden water hying.
Swift from her shadow flying,
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To Calden water hying.
And many a time before to-night
Hath Andrew rowed her over,
When softly through the waning light
She stole to meet her lover.
Hath Andrew rowed her over,
When softly through the waning light
She stole to meet her lover.
But that was in the days gone by;—
Alas! the old sad story—
'T was ere he heard the bugle-cry,
And turned from love to glory.
Alas! the old sad story—
'T was ere he heard the bugle-cry,
And turned from love to glory.
'T was when her foot came down the hill
As light as snowflake falling;
While over Calden water, still,
She heard her lover calling.
As light as snowflake falling;
While over Calden water, still,
She heard her lover calling.
She heard him singing, clear and low,
“The flower of love lies bleeding;”
The very echoes long ago
Have ceased their tender pleading.
“The flower of love lies bleeding;”
The very echoes long ago
Have ceased their tender pleading.
And he who sang that sweet refrain
Is sleeping where they found him,—
Upon the trampled battle-plain,
With his silent comrades round him.
Is sleeping where they found him,—
Upon the trampled battle-plain,
With his silent comrades round him.
While she—for months within the vale
Have tender maids been sighing,
Because the “Daisy of the Dale,”
Its sweetest flower, was dying.
Have tender maids been sighing,
Because the “Daisy of the Dale,”
Its sweetest flower, was dying.
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And Andrew, rowing many a night,
Hath sadly mused about her;
While from her chamber, high, the light
Streamed o'er the Calden water.
Hath sadly mused about her;
While from her chamber, high, the light
Streamed o'er the Calden water.
What marvel that he clasps his hands,
And prays the saints to guide him,
As, crossing now the cold wet sands,
She takes her seat beside him.
And prays the saints to guide him,
As, crossing now the cold wet sands,
She takes her seat beside him.
She speaks no word of sweet command,
The proud Lord Gowen's daughter;—
She signs him with her flower-like hand
To cross the Calden water.
The proud Lord Gowen's daughter;—
She signs him with her flower-like hand
To cross the Calden water.
Trembling old Andrew takes the oar,
Silent he rows her over;
Silent she steps upon the shore
Where once she met her lover.
Silent he rows her over;
Silent she steps upon the shore
Where once she met her lover.
There is no sound of mortal tread,
Or mortal voice to greet her,
But noiselessly, as from the dead,
Her lover glides to meet her.
Or mortal voice to greet her,
But noiselessly, as from the dead,
Her lover glides to meet her.
One moment they each other fold
In clasp of love undying;
The next but shadows, deep and cold,
Upon the shore are lying.
In clasp of love undying;
The next but shadows, deep and cold,
Upon the shore are lying.
And see! the darkness grows more drear—
The pine more wildly tossing,
And backward to the shore in fear
Old Andrew swift is crossing.
The pine more wildly tossing,
And backward to the shore in fear
Old Andrew swift is crossing.
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He drops his oar, he leaves his boat,
He heeds nor fiend nor mortal;
He 's crossed the castle's bridge and moat,
He stands within the portal.
He heeds nor fiend nor mortal;
He 's crossed the castle's bridge and moat,
He stands within the portal.
Still on, as one who has no power
Of pausing or of turning,
He mounts unto the very tower,
Where yet the light is burning.
Of pausing or of turning,
He mounts unto the very tower,
Where yet the light is burning.
And there he sees a snow-white bed,
And sees, with eyes affrighted,
Set at the feet and at the head
The waxen candles lighted.
And sees, with eyes affrighted,
Set at the feet and at the head
The waxen candles lighted.
Upon a lovely, piteous sight
As e'er was seen, he gazes:—
A maiden in her dead-clothes white,
And all bestrewn with daisies!
As e'er was seen, he gazes:—
A maiden in her dead-clothes white,
And all bestrewn with daisies!
THE YOUNG MARTYR.
Still of one among the saints,
Who for Christ in days of old
Suffered blessèd martyrdom,
Is this holy legend told.
Who for Christ in days of old
Suffered blessèd martyrdom,
Is this holy legend told.
Proud upon his royal throne,
In our Lord's first century,
Sat the Roman Emperor,
Clothed in purple majesty.
In our Lord's first century,
Sat the Roman Emperor,
Clothed in purple majesty.
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Naught he lacks of pomp and state,
Armèd guards behind him stand;
And his courtiers, row on row,
Circle him on either hand.
Armèd guards behind him stand;
And his courtiers, row on row,
Circle him on either hand.
Cold and pitiless anear
Frowns the heathen god of stone;
And a single Christian youth
Standeth at his feet alone.
Frowns the heathen god of stone;
And a single Christian youth
Standeth at his feet alone.
Just a boy, a fair-haired child,
In whose eyes you yet can see
All the loving trust he learned,
Praying at his mother's knee.
In whose eyes you yet can see
All the loving trust he learned,
Praying at his mother's knee.
Martyrs true, his brothers died,
Last of five alone he stands;—
Five, who rather bow to death,
Than to idols made with hands.
Last of five alone he stands;—
Five, who rather bow to death,
Than to idols made with hands.
Oft the king has doomed to die
Men and maidens, age and youth;
But his heart for this fair boy
Moveth with a tender ruth.
Men and maidens, age and youth;
But his heart for this fair boy
Moveth with a tender ruth.
So he beckoneth him anear;—
“Thou art brave and proud,” he saith;
“I would spare thee if I might,
But I fear the people's wrath.
“Thou art brave and proud,” he saith;
“I would spare thee if I might,
But I fear the people's wrath.
“I will let this royal ring
Careless drop from out my hand;
Thou shalt stoop and bow the knee,
But to lift it from the sand:
Careless drop from out my hand;
Thou shalt stoop and bow the knee,
But to lift it from the sand:
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“Yet the gazing crowd will think
Thou hast bowed the head to give
Homage to our country's god;—
Thus shalt thou be free, and live.”
Thou hast bowed the head to give
Homage to our country's god;—
Thus shalt thou be free, and live.”
Brave the martyr met his eye,
Proudly standing in his place,
And the light that cometh down
Out of heaven, was in his face.
Proudly standing in his place,
And the light that cometh down
Out of heaven, was in his face.
“He who made me seeth all,”—
So the Christian answered then,—
“Shall I fear the eye of God
Less than thou the eye of men?”
So the Christian answered then,—
“Shall I fear the eye of God
Less than thou the eye of men?”
SUSKA.
Tresses black as her own raven,
With a sheen like softest silk,
Has the Polish maiden Suska,
And her throat is white as milk.
Once of all the village beauties
Had she the merriest glance;
And her little foot was quickest
And lightest in the dance.
With a sheen like softest silk,
Has the Polish maiden Suska,
And her throat is white as milk.
Once of all the village beauties
Had she the merriest glance;
And her little foot was quickest
And lightest in the dance.
Now she sits without her cottage,
Very still and very meek,
With the tears from her dark lashes
Dropping slowly to her cheek.
Little birds are happy courting
In the pear-tree overhead;
And its fragrant, tender blossoms
Are all about her shed.
Very still and very meek,
With the tears from her dark lashes
Dropping slowly to her cheek.
Little birds are happy courting
In the pear-tree overhead;
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Are all about her shed.
Suska does not hear the linnets
That are courting in the pear;
Nor feel the drift of blossoms
Snowing down upon her hair.
And she heeds not Karl, the raven,
Turning on his perch so high,
Though he keep his eye upon her,
Like a cautious, cunning spy.
That are courting in the pear;
Nor feel the drift of blossoms
Snowing down upon her hair.
And she heeds not Karl, the raven,
Turning on his perch so high,
Though he keep his eye upon her,
Like a cautious, cunning spy.
“O my Pravo!” weeps the maiden,
“He will never come again.
And alas, 't was my unkindness
Drove him to the battle-plain!”
“Haughty Suska!” cries the raven,—
It was Pravo taught him so,
When his cruel little mistress
To his suit had answered, No.
“He will never come again.
And alas, 't was my unkindness
Drove him to the battle-plain!”
“Haughty Suska!” cries the raven,—
It was Pravo taught him so,
When his cruel little mistress
To his suit had answered, No.
“Hush! he will not die,” sobs Suska;
“He was born for victory;
But he'll find another sweetheart,
And he'll never think of me;
Some pale girl with golden tresses
Will snare him by her charms,
And I 'd rather mourn him buried
Than in a rival's arms!”
“He was born for victory;
But he'll find another sweetheart,
And he'll never think of me;
Some pale girl with golden tresses
Will snare him by her charms,
And I 'd rather mourn him buried
Than in a rival's arms!”
Close the raven looks, as counting
Every hot and bitter tear;
While his harsh cry, “naughty Suska!”
Falls upon the maiden's ear.
Blushing both for shame and anger,
Suska bows her poor head down,
And she sees not how the neighbors
All are hurrying towards the town.
Every hot and bitter tear;
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Falls upon the maiden's ear.
Blushing both for shame and anger,
Suska bows her poor head down,
And she sees not how the neighbors
All are hurrying towards the town.
She does not hear the bugle,
Blending with the drum's loud beat;
Nor the homeward tramp of soldiers,
Coming down the village street;
Nor see the close ranks broken,
And a manly form draw nigh:
But she hears the voice of Pravo,
And she answers with a cry.
Blending with the drum's loud beat;
Nor the homeward tramp of soldiers,
Coming down the village street;
Nor see the close ranks broken,
And a manly form draw nigh:
But she hears the voice of Pravo,
And she answers with a cry.
There he stands once more beside her,
Proud of mien, and proud of face,
All his bosom crossed with orders,
And his coat bedecked with lace.
“Glory is the only mistress
I have wooed,” he cries, “save you,
Is it yes or no, dear Suska?
Answer me, and answer true.”
Proud of mien, and proud of face,
All his bosom crossed with orders,
And his coat bedecked with lace.
“Glory is the only mistress
I have wooed,” he cries, “save you,
Is it yes or no, dear Suska?
Answer me, and answer true.”
Clear she lifts her eyes one moment,
Then she lets her bright head rest,
Sure the fairest decoration,
On the soldier's manly breast.
And again in mocking accents,
As if shocked by what he spies,
Haughty Suska! naughty Suska!”
Cunning Karl, the raven, cries.
Then she lets her bright head rest,
Sure the fairest decoration,
On the soldier's manly breast.
And again in mocking accents,
As if shocked by what he spies,
Haughty Suska! naughty Suska!”
Cunning Karl, the raven, cries.
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No more anger, shame, or blushing,
But in Suska's look and tone
Is the sweet serene contentment
Of a heart that knows its own.
And as Pravo bends above her,
All his face with joy is pale,
As the flowers that fall and hide them
In a soft white bridal veil.
But in Suska's look and tone
Is the sweet serene contentment
Of a heart that knows its own.
And as Pravo bends above her,
All his face with joy is pale,
As the flowers that fall and hide them
In a soft white bridal veil.
PROEM.
FOR NATIONAL TEMPERANCE OFFERING, 1850.
Knowing how all who live are bound together
By the sweet ties of one humanity,
How all are fellow-pilgrims journeying thither
Where shines the city of eternity;
By the sweet ties of one humanity,
How all are fellow-pilgrims journeying thither
Where shines the city of eternity;
And seeing that he to whom no brother lendeth
A helping hand to bear his weight of ill,
Oft falters on the pathway which ascendeth
Up the beautiful summit of life's hill;
A helping hand to bear his weight of ill,
Oft falters on the pathway which ascendeth
Up the beautiful summit of life's hill;
And turns to follow by-paths and forbidden,
Winding and winding back from virtue's goal,
Till, where the seir-cryts of the world lie hidden,
Lost and bewildered walks the human soul;
Winding and winding back from virtue's goal,
Till, where the seir-cryts of the world lie hidden,
Lost and bewildered walks the human soul;
We who have yet with sin maintained resistance,
And tempted, have not wholly turned aside,
Would come with love, with counsel, and assistance,
To all whose spirits are more sorely tried.
And tempted, have not wholly turned aside,
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To all whose spirits are more sorely tried.
If there be any who would turn and perish,
Because no friend has whispered words of cheer,
Any whom yet no heart has learned to cherish,
To us their sufferings and their hopes are dear.
Because no friend has whispered words of cheer,
Any whom yet no heart has learned to cherish,
To us their sufferings and their hopes are dear.
If there be any faltering, and no longer
Equal to life's most toilsome marches found,—
Oh lean on us, until your feet, grown stronger,
Are firmly planted on a vantage ground.
Equal to life's most toilsome marches found,—
Oh lean on us, until your feet, grown stronger,
Are firmly planted on a vantage ground.
And then, forsaken one, who darkly weepest
Over a lost one gone from virtue's track,
For thee, even where sin's shafts are sunken deepest,
We will go fearlessly and lead him back.
Over a lost one gone from virtue's track,
For thee, even where sin's shafts are sunken deepest,
We will go fearlessly and lead him back.
Yea, we will save him, even though the hisses
Of baffled demons mock us as we come;—
Love's lip is sweeter than the wine-cup's kisses,
Love's smile is brighter than the wine-cup's foam.
Of baffled demons mock us as we come;—
Love's lip is sweeter than the wine-cup's kisses,
Love's smile is brighter than the wine-cup's foam.
And daily thus to bless our efforts, bringing
Some soul that turned or might have turned to death,
We shall go up life's hill together, singing
The sweetly solemn hymns of love and faith.
Some soul that turned or might have turned to death,
We shall go up life's hill together, singing
The sweetly solemn hymns of love and faith.
And from its summit viewing, but not sadly,
The peaceful valley where shall end our strife,
We will walk downward willingly and gladly
To the last bivouac on the plains of life.
The peaceful valley where shall end our strife,
We will walk downward willingly and gladly
To the last bivouac on the plains of life.
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For, knowing death is but the door of heaven,
We shall press joyfully to meet the hour;
Not with the lock-step like cringing felons driven
Under the gateway of their prison-tower!
We shall press joyfully to meet the hour;
Not with the lock-step like cringing felons driven
Under the gateway of their prison-tower!
THE RECHABITES.
They came and brought the Rechabites, who dwelt in tents of old,To chambers dark with tapestry, and cunning work and gold;
And set before them pots of wine, and cups than mantled high,
But when they tempted them to drink, they answered fearlessly,
And said: “Our father Jonadab, the son of Rechab, spake,
Commanding us to drink no wine forever, for his sake;
And therefore we will taste not of the cup you bring us now,
For our children's children to the end shall keep our father's vow.”
And the Lord who heard the Rechabites, and loves a faithful heart,
Pronounced a blessing on their tribe that never shall depart.
Thus we will taste not of the wine, and though the streams should dry,
Yet the living God who made us will hear his children cry;
For Moses smote the solid rock, and lo! a fountain smiled,
And Hagar in the wilderness drew water for her child;
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Drink nothing but the crystal wave that gushes from her springs;
The birds that feed upon the hills, seek where the fountains burst,
And the hart beside the water brooks, stoops down to slake his thirst;
The herb that feels the summer rain on the mountain smiles anew,
And the blossoms with their golden cups drink only of the dew;
And we will drink the clear cold stream, and taste of naught beside,
And He who blessed the Rechabites, the Lord will be our guide.
A GREAT SECRET.
My friend, here's a secret
By which you may thrive:
I am fifty years old,
And my wife 's forty-five—
By which you may thrive:
I am fifty years old,
And my wife 's forty-five—
A queen among beauties,
The wedding-guests said,
When we went to the church
With the priest, and were wed.
The wedding-guests said,
When we went to the church
With the priest, and were wed.
That 's thirty long years past;
And I can avow,
She was no more a beauty
To me, then, than now!
And I can avow,
She was no more a beauty
To me, then, than now!
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For never the scath of a
Petulant frown
Has ploughed with its furrows
Her young roses down.
Petulant frown
Has ploughed with its furrows
Her young roses down.
And still, like a girl, when
Her praises I speak,
Her heart fairly blushes
Itself through her cheek.
Her praises I speak,
Her heart fairly blushes
Itself through her cheek.
Her smile is more tender
For being less bright;
And the little bit powder
That makes her hair white,
For being less bright;
And the little bit powder
That makes her hair white,
And all the soft patience
That shows through her face,
In my eyes, are only
Like grace upon grace.
That shows through her face,
In my eyes, are only
Like grace upon grace.
For still we are lovers,
As I am alive,
Though I, sir, am fifty,
And she's forty-five!
As I am alive,
Though I, sir, am fifty,
And she's forty-five!
And here 's half the secret
I meant to unfold:
She don't know, my friend,
Not the least, how to scold!
I meant to unfold:
She don't know, my friend,
Not the least, how to scold!
Nor does she get pettish,
And sulk to a pout;
So, since we fell in love,
We never fell out!
And sulk to a pout;
So, since we fell in love,
We never fell out!
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And here 's the full secret
That saves us from strife:
I kept her a sweetheart
In making her wife!
That saves us from strife:
I kept her a sweetheart
In making her wife!
And if you but wed on
My pattern, you'll thrive,
For I, sir, am fifty,
My wife, forty-five!
My pattern, you'll thrive,
For I, sir, am fifty,
My wife, forty-five!
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THE SOFT NO.
Young Kitty sat knitting. “My darling,” I said,
“I have had a most beautiful dream!
Shall I tell it?” She gave a slight shake of the head,
And answered: “I'm turning the seam!”
“I have had a most beautiful dream!
Shall I tell it?” She gave a slight shake of the head,
And answered: “I'm turning the seam!”
I reached for the mesh, speckled soft like a pink,
That she held in her fingers so small;
But she answered: “I can't leave my work—only think—
I am knitting a sock for a doll!”
That she held in her fingers so small;
But she answered: “I can't leave my work—only think—
I am knitting a sock for a doll!”
“Don't tease me so, Kitty, my dear little one—
You are dying to hear, I'll be bound!”
“Just wait,” she said, smiling as bright as the sun,
“Just wait till I 've knitted a round.”
You are dying to hear, I'll be bound!”
“Just wait,” she said, smiling as bright as the sun,
“Just wait till I 've knitted a round.”
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I waited impatient, and then I drew near,
And, pushing the curls from her brow,
I said: “Are you ready, my Kitty, my dear?”
She answered: “I'm narrowing now!”
And, pushing the curls from her brow,
I said: “Are you ready, my Kitty, my dear?”
She answered: “I'm narrowing now!”
Still nearer I drew—put my arm round her waist—
And, breaking of silence the seal,
Repeated: “Dear Kitty! why, what is your haste?”
She answered: “I'm setting the heel!”
And, breaking of silence the seal,
Repeated: “Dear Kitty! why, what is your haste?”
She answered: “I'm setting the heel!”
I smiled and I frowned—I looked up at the clock—
At the coals 'neath the forestick aglow,
And then at dear Kitty—she held up the sock,
Saying: “Would you put white in the toe?”
At the coals 'neath the forestick aglow,
And then at dear Kitty—she held up the sock,
Saying: “Would you put white in the toe?”
“You shall hear me, Kitty, you dearest of girls,
And then, if you will, you may scoff!”
She shook loose the hand I had laid on her curls,
As she said: “I'm just binding off!”
And then, if you will, you may scoff!”
She shook loose the hand I had laid on her curls,
As she said: “I'm just binding off!”
“I dreamed of a cottage embowered with trees,
And under the bluest of skies”—
She checked me with—“Sit farther off, if you please,
My needles will get in your eyes!”
And under the bluest of skies”—
She checked me with—“Sit farther off, if you please,
My needles will get in your eyes!”
“I dreamed you were there, like a rose at my door,
And that love, Kitty, love, made us rich!”
“I told you to sit farther off once before!”
She answered; “I'm dropping a stitch!”
And that love, Kitty, love, made us rich!”
“I told you to sit farther off once before!”
She answered; “I'm dropping a stitch!”
She knitted the last, and had broken the thread,
When I cried: “Am I only a friend?
Or may I be lover?” She quietly said:
“Pray wait till I 've fastened the end!”
When I cried: “Am I only a friend?
Or may I be lover?” She quietly said:
“Pray wait till I 've fastened the end!”
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“Will you marry me?” Here the worst came to the worst,
There was nothing to do but to go;
For I learned at the last, what I might have known first,
It was all her soft way to say, No!
There was nothing to do but to go;
For I learned at the last, what I might have known first,
It was all her soft way to say, No!
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A TIN WEDDING CELEBRATION.
Dear friend, the thought must surely come
To-night to every thinker,
That he who joined your fates at first
Was something of a tinker!
To-night to every thinker,
That he who joined your fates at first
Was something of a tinker!
For through the ups and downs of life,
Through fair and stormy weather,
His soldering for tin long years
Has held you fast together.
Through fair and stormy weather,
His soldering for tin long years
Has held you fast together.
And since your love has worn so well,
Another truth we settle:
You are not made of tinsel stuff,
But true and tempered metal.
Another truth we settle:
You are not made of tinsel stuff,
But true and tempered metal.
And therefore may the gods, on you
Their choicest gifts bestowing,
Fill up the tin cup of your lives,
With bliss to overflowing.
Their choicest gifts bestowing,
Fill up the tin cup of your lives,
With bliss to overflowing.
May love and friendship smooth the path
Of life your feet are treading;
Till happier than this night of tin
Shall be your golden wedding.
Of life your feet are treading;
Till happier than this night of tin
Shall be your golden wedding.
And may you hear with hearts as young
Our last congratulations,
As when your marriage bells first rung
Their tin-tinnabulations!
Our last congratulations,
As when your marriage bells first rung
Their tin-tinnabulations!
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FOR THE SILVER WEDDING OF MR. AND MRS. J. C. DERBY.
Some five and twenty years ago—
Ah! time of youth and rapture!—
Our host was a bewitching beau
The girls all tried to capture.
Ah! time of youth and rapture!—
Our host was a bewitching beau
The girls all tried to capture.
Our hostess 't was who won the field,
And honor, then, to her be;
She justly takes the prize we yield
Because she won the Derby.
And honor, then, to her be;
She justly takes the prize we yield
Because she won the Derby.
A PACK OF TRUTHS.
No matter how strictly according to Hoyle
You may shuffle your cards or your own mortal coil—
How you play out your best cards or what you conceal,
There is one who can beat you and give you the De'il.
You may shuffle your cards or your own mortal coil—
How you play out your best cards or what you conceal,
There is one who can beat you and give you the De'il.
In the sharp game of life you may win the first trick:
But after you 've cut your last cards and your trick,
Then, deuce take it all, even though you die game,
Whether kings, queens, or knaves, he will take you the same.
But after you 've cut your last cards and your trick,
Then, deuce take it all, even though you die game,
Whether kings, queens, or knaves, he will take you the same.
You will find life at last is a pretty grave joke,
For you can't let it pass, and you cannot revoke;
Gabriel takes you at last, you may like it or lump,
For he'll order you up, and he holds the last trump.
For you can't let it pass, and you cannot revoke;
Gabriel takes you at last, you may like it or lump,
For he'll order you up, and he holds the last trump.
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SONG.
Oh, always is Eden created anew,
When hearts for each other beat tender and true;
When bright as a sunbeam the glad moments slip,
And the joy from the heart rises up to the lip.
Youth, youth, giver of bliss,
Thy greatest is this, aye, thy greatest is this.
When hearts for each other beat tender and true;
When bright as a sunbeam the glad moments slip,
And the joy from the heart rises up to the lip.
Youth, youth, giver of bliss,
Thy greatest is this, aye, thy greatest is this.
But better and sweeter is love that will last
When youth with the bloom of the roses is past;
Oh! the warmth of affection that never grows cold,
And the strength of affection that never grows old.
Blest, blest, thrice blest are those
Who are loved till life's close, who are loved till life's close.
When youth with the bloom of the roses is past;
Oh! the warmth of affection that never grows cold,
And the strength of affection that never grows old.
Blest, blest, thrice blest are those
Who are loved till life's close, who are loved till life's close.
But best of all good things it is, to behold
The heart warm and young when the frame groweth old;
For they who walk lovingly here hand in hand,
Together shall rest in the heavenly land,
Rest, rest, in heaven above,
Forever united with Him who is Love!
The heart warm and young when the frame groweth old;
For they who walk lovingly here hand in hand,
Together shall rest in the heavenly land,
Rest, rest, in heaven above,
Forever united with Him who is Love!
THAT CALF.
An old farmer, one morn, hurried out to his barn
Where the cattle were standing, and said,
While they trembled with fright,—“Now which of you, last night,
Shut the barn-door, while I was in bed?”
Each one of them all shook his head.
Where the cattle were standing, and said,
While they trembled with fright,—“Now which of you, last night,
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Each one of them all shook his head.
Now the little calf, Spot, she was down in the lot,
And the way the rest did was a shame;
For not one, night before, saw her close up the door,
But they said that she did, all the same;
For they always made her bear the blame.
And the way the rest did was a shame;
For not one, night before, saw her close up the door,
But they said that she did, all the same;
For they always made her bear the blame.
Said the horse, Dapple-gray, “I was not up this way
Last night, as I now recollect;”—
And the bull, passing by, tossed his horns very high,
And said, “Where 's the one to object,
If I say, 't is that calf I suspect?”
Last night, as I now recollect;”—
And the bull, passing by, tossed his horns very high,
And said, “Where 's the one to object,
If I say, 't is that calf I suspect?”
“It is too wicked now,” said the old brindle cow,
“To accuse honest folks of such tricks;”—
Said the cock in the tree, “I am sure 't was n't me;”—
All the sheep just said “bah!”—there were six;—
And they thought now that calf's in a fix!
“To accuse honest folks of such tricks;”—
Said the cock in the tree, “I am sure 't was n't me;”—
All the sheep just said “bah!”—there were six;—
And they thought now that calf's in a fix!
“Of course we all knew 't was the wrong thing to do,”
Cried the chickens; “Of course,” mewed the cat;
“I suppose,” said the mule, “some folks think me a fool,
But I'm not quite so simple as that;—
Well! that calf never knows what she 's at!”
Cried the chickens; “Of course,” mewed the cat;
“I suppose,” said the mule, “some folks think me a fool,
But I'm not quite so simple as that;—
Well! that calf never knows what she 's at!”
Just then the poor calf, who was always the laugh
And the jest of the yard, came in sight;—
“Did you shut my barn-door?” said the farmer once more;
And she answered, “I did, sir, last night;
For I thought that to close it was right.”
And the jest of the yard, came in sight;—
“Did you shut my barn-door?” said the farmer once more;
And she answered, “I did, sir, last night;
For I thought that to close it was right.”
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Now each beast shook his head—“She will catch it,” they said,
“Serve her right, for her meddlesome way;”—
Cried the farmer: “Come here, little bossy, my dear,
You have done what I cannot repay,
And your fortune is made from to-day.
“Serve her right, for her meddlesome way;”—
Cried the farmer: “Come here, little bossy, my dear,
You have done what I cannot repay,
And your fortune is made from to-day.
“Very strangely, last night, I forgot the door quite,
And if you had not closed it so neat,
All the colts had slipped in, and gone straight to the bin,
And got what they ought not to eat;—
They'd have foundered themselves upon wheat.”
And if you had not closed it so neat,
All the colts had slipped in, and gone straight to the bin,
And got what they ought not to eat;—
They'd have foundered themselves upon wheat.”
Then each beast of them all began loudly to bawl,
The mule tried to smile, the cock crew;
“Little Spotty, my dear, you 're the favorite here,”
They all cried: “we 're so glad it was you!”
But that calf only answered them, “boo!”
The mule tried to smile, the cock crew;
“Little Spotty, my dear, you 're the favorite here,”
They all cried: “we 're so glad it was you!”
But that calf only answered them, “boo!”
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