 | Songs of the silent world and other poems |  |
107
IV.
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AT THE PARTY.
Half a dozen children
At our house!
Half a dozen children
Quiet as a mouse,
Quiet as a moonbeam,
You could hear a pin—
Waiting for the party
To begin.
At our house!
Half a dozen children
Quiet as a mouse,
Quiet as a moonbeam,
You could hear a pin—
Waiting for the party
To begin.
Such a flood of flounces!
(Oh dear me!)
Such a surge of sashes
Like a silken sea.
Little eyes demurely
Cast upon the ground,
Little airs and graces
All around.
(Oh dear me!)
Such a surge of sashes
Like a silken sea.
Little eyes demurely
Cast upon the ground,
Little airs and graces
All around.
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High time for that party
To begin!
To sit so any longer
Were a sort of sin;
As if you were n't acquainted
With society.
What a thing to tell of
That would be!
To begin!
To sit so any longer
Were a sort of sin;
As if you were n't acquainted
With society.
What a thing to tell of
That would be!
Up spoke a little lady
Aged five;
“I 've tumbled up my over-dress,
Sure as I'm alive!
My dress came from Paris;
We sent to Worth for it;
Mother says she calls it
Such a fit!”
Aged five;
“I 've tumbled up my over-dress,
Sure as I'm alive!
My dress came from Paris;
We sent to Worth for it;
Mother says she calls it
Such a fit!”
Quick there piped another
Little voice—
“I did n't send for dresses,
Though I had my choice;
I have got a doll that
Came from Paris too;
It can walk and talk as
Well as you!”
Little voice—
“I did n't send for dresses,
Though I had my choice;
I have got a doll that
Came from Paris too;
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Well as you!”
Still, till now, there sat one
Little girl;
Simple as a snow-drop,
Without flounce or curl.
Modest as a primrose,
Soft, plain hair brushed back,
But the color of her dress was
Black—all black.
Little girl;
Simple as a snow-drop,
Without flounce or curl.
Modest as a primrose,
Soft, plain hair brushed back,
But the color of her dress was
Black—all black.
Swift she glanced around with
Sweet surprise;
Bright and grave the look that
Widened in her eyes.
To entertain the party
She must do her share,
As if God had sent her
Stood she there;
Sweet surprise;
Bright and grave the look that
Widened in her eyes.
To entertain the party
She must do her share,
As if God had sent her
Stood she there;
Stood a minute, thinking,
With crossed hands
How she best might meet the
Company's demands.
Grave and sweet the purpose
To the child's voice given:—
“I have a little brother
Gone to Heaven!”
With crossed hands
How she best might meet the
Company's demands.
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To the child's voice given:—
“I have a little brother
Gone to Heaven!”
On the little party
Dropped a spell;
All the little flounces
Rustled where they fell;
But the modest maiden
In her mourning gown,
Unconscious as a flower,
Looketh down.
Dropped a spell;
All the little flounces
Rustled where they fell;
But the modest maiden
In her mourning gown,
Unconscious as a flower,
Looketh down.
Quick my heart besought her,
Silently.
“Happy little maiden,
Give, O give to me
The highness of your courage,
The sweetness of your grace,
To speak a large word, in a
Little place.”
Silently.
“Happy little maiden,
Give, O give to me
The highness of your courage,
The sweetness of your grace,
To speak a large word, in a
Little place.”
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A JEWISH LEGEND.
I like that old, kind legend
Not found in Holy Writ,
And wish that John or Matthew
Had made Bible out of it.
Not found in Holy Writ,
And wish that John or Matthew
Had made Bible out of it.
But though it is not Gospel,
There is no law to hold
The heart from growing better
That hears the story told:—
There is no law to hold
The heart from growing better
That hears the story told:—
How the little Jewish children
Upon a summer day,
Went down across the meadows
With the Child Christ to play.
Upon a summer day,
Went down across the meadows
With the Child Christ to play.
And in the gold-green valley,
Where low the reed-grass lay,
They made them mock mud-sparrows
Out of the meadow clay.
Where low the reed-grass lay,
They made them mock mud-sparrows
Out of the meadow clay.
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So, when these all were fashioned,
And ranged in rows about,
“Now,” said the little Jesus,
“We'll let the birds fly out.”
And ranged in rows about,
“Now,” said the little Jesus,
“We'll let the birds fly out.”
Then all the happy children
Did call, and coax, and cry—
Each to his own mud-sparrow:
“Fly, as I bid you! Fly!”
Did call, and coax, and cry—
Each to his own mud-sparrow:
“Fly, as I bid you! Fly!”
But earthen were the sparrows,
And earth they did remain,
Though loud the Jewish children
Cried out, and cried again.
And earth they did remain,
Though loud the Jewish children
Cried out, and cried again.
Except the one bird only
The little Lord Christ made;
The earth that owned Him Master,
—His earth heard and obeyed.
The little Lord Christ made;
The earth that owned Him Master,
—His earth heard and obeyed.
Softly He leaned and whispered:
“Fly up to Heaven! Fly!”
And swift, His little sparrow
Went soaring to the sky,
“Fly up to Heaven! Fly!”
And swift, His little sparrow
Went soaring to the sky,
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And silent, all the children
Stood, awestruck, looking on,
Till, deep into the heavens,
The bird of earth had gone.
Stood, awestruck, looking on,
Till, deep into the heavens,
The bird of earth had gone.
I like to think, for playmate
We have the Lord Christ still,
And that still above our weakness
He works His mighty will,
We have the Lord Christ still,
And that still above our weakness
He works His mighty will,
That all our little playthings
Of earthen hopes and joys
Shall be, by His commandment,
Changed into heavenly toys.
Of earthen hopes and joys
Shall be, by His commandment,
Changed into heavenly toys.
Our souls are like the sparrows
Imprisoned in the clay,
Bless Him who came to give them wings
Upon a Christmas Day!
Imprisoned in the clay,
Bless Him who came to give them wings
Upon a Christmas Day!
| Songs of the silent world and other poems | |