Judith, Esther, and other poems

Many are pleased to think and write
That every mind alike is white,
In early infancy,
As block without a spot or stain
From alabaster quarry ta'en,
And wrought as easily:

So that a skillful artist may,
Easy as making bricks of clay,
Model the shapeless treasure,
And make it Heaven's fair image man,
Or reptile vile as ever ran—
(Twere better, crept) at pleasure.

While others hold, that one might try
As well to make a panther's eye
Emit a dove-like ray
As form the heart: or bid the hair
Of dames Caffrarian, on the air
In long light tresses play,

Such thoughts as these in idle mood
At open window as I stood,
Through my soul's chambers flitting,
I watched an urchin group that played,
A little distant in the shade,
In merry circle sitting.

Now as it chanced, I was not then
Adjusted to a thinking train,
So thought not which was best;
But said, may those, who know the way,
Fill every dark abode with day!
And let the subject rest.

Just then a pretty little maid
To climb the grassy slope essayed,
But soon as she had won
About a quarter of the height,
Became afraid and holding tight,
Sat crying in the sun.

The busy cluster rose, forsaking
A ball or kite that they were making,
But did they help her thence?
Truly for that they'd no intent,
But laughed and leapt for merriment
Produced at her expense.

And had she waited till they tried
To lend her aid, she might cried
Till all her tears were wasted:
But a sweet boy came singing by
With ruddy cheek and smiling eye,
And to her succour hasted.

“Come, do not cry—you shall not fall,
There is no danger here at all,”
He said in soothing tone;
The while his sun-burnt arm he placed
Around the little trembler's waist,
“Why did you come alone?”

And still upon the level walk
Continued thus his artless talk,
“Have you not got a brother?
No matter, dry your tears, I'll stay
And go home with you all the way,
If he will tell your mother.”

His shirt was torn, his feet were bare,
Uncombed and crisp, his plenteous hair,
Adorned his hatless head:
And 'tis not like a single word,
In all his life he ever heard
About such matters said.

Thus unembellished and exact,
Reader, behold a simple fact,
I would but cannot pause,
Upon conclusions to reflect;
Too much enamoured of th' effect
To think about the cause.

University of Virginia Library

TRUE POLITENESS.