 | A Sculptor and Other Poems |  |
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THAT BOY.
Thank you, Willie, my child, this is very cosy and sweet;
Son and daughter in one, sit down here at my feet.
What a great fellow you're growing! and ever, still as you grow,
You are liker another Willie, my darling of long ago.
Son and daughter in one, sit down here at my feet.
What a great fellow you're growing! and ever, still as you grow,
You are liker another Willie, my darling of long ago.
I like to talk to you of him, I know that you understand ;—
Yes, dear, draw closer to me,—so—closer—and hold my hand;
That other Willie of mine, who past from my sight for a space,
With the dew of youth on his locks, and the light of God on his face.
Yes, dear, draw closer to me,—so—closer—and hold my hand;
That other Willie of mine, who past from my sight for a space,
With the dew of youth on his locks, and the light of God on his face.
Strong, and joyous, and true; 'twould not have been easy to find
One more thoroughly healthy, alike in body and mind;
With his clever strong brown hands, and the laugh from his heart that rang,
And the noble thoughts half hid, half told in his school-boy slang.
One more thoroughly healthy, alike in body and mind;
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And the noble thoughts half hid, half told in his school-boy slang.
Sometimes he'd dream for an hour, then call out for something to do;
He had feet that were ready for service, and innocent mischief, too;
Was careless of clothing and cash; I remember his mother would say
That money burnt holes in his pockets before he had had it a day.
He had feet that were ready for service, and innocent mischief, too;
Was careless of clothing and cash; I remember his mother would say
That money burnt holes in his pockets before he had had it a day.
He had fancies graceful and strange. You know those odd, grotesque
Faces he cut with his pen-knife upon his deal-wood desk:
And you know those sketches of his, where under the crudeness lay
A life and a fire that must have wrought good work some day.
Faces he cut with his pen-knife upon his deal-wood desk:
And you know those sketches of his, where under the crudeness lay
A life and a fire that must have wrought good work some day.
I loved to watch him at church, as he sat in the corner-place,
A light from within or without, you knew not which, on his face,
As his soul went up to God in the singing and praying that rose:
And his face was a poem that taught me more than the sermon's prose.
A light from within or without, you knew not which, on his face,
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And his face was a poem that taught me more than the sermon's prose.
And oh! those holiday times when the vague delicious blue
That grew into greenwood anear, our jubilant footsteps drew
Through light that never was glare, and shade that never was gloom,
To the tufts of primroses fair, and the wild blue hyacinths' bloom.
That grew into greenwood anear, our jubilant footsteps drew
Through light that never was glare, and shade that never was gloom,
To the tufts of primroses fair, and the wild blue hyacinths' bloom.
Yes, dear, it was he who taught my soul in the long ago
The great invisible love by the visible love to know:
It was first in that bright young life that ever I understood
To make people happy, Willie, is surely to make them good.
The great invisible love by the visible love to know:
It was first in that bright young life that ever I understood
To make people happy, Willie, is surely to make them good.
He made people happy, Willie, just in his earnest or play,
He couldn't help it, that's all; and, oh! when he went away,
There was many and many a heart that mourn'd for the lad, whose life
Had deepen'd its every-day joy and strengthen'd for every-day strife.
He couldn't help it, that's all; and, oh! when he went away,
There was many and many a heart that mourn'd for the lad, whose life
Had deepen'd its every-day joy and strengthen'd for every-day strife.
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They say that all pure souls grow to their stature's stately height
Of manhood in Godhead baptiz'd, in the land of love and light;
But I think of him just as I knew him, and oh! it is such a joy
To know that the heart of Christ once beat as the hear of a boy.
Of manhood in Godhead baptiz'd, in the land of love and light;
But I think of him just as I knew him, and oh! it is such a joy
To know that the heart of Christ once beat as the hear of a boy.
| A Sculptor and Other Poems | |