Poems Teachers Ask For Volume II Part 38

Dying where leagues of billows seemed to shriek for their prey, And the nearest land was hundreds--aye, thousands--of miles away.

She raved one night in a fever, and the next lay still as death, So still I'd to bend and listen for the faintest sign of breath.

She seemed in a sleep, and sleeping, with a smile on her thin, wan face,-- She pa.s.sed away one morning, while I prayed to the throne of grace.

I knelt in the little cabin, and prayer after prayer I said, Till the surgeon came and told me it was useless--my wife was dead!

Dead! I wouldn't believe it. They forced me away that night, For I raved in my wild despairing, the shock sent me mad outright.

I was shut in the farthest cabin, and I beat my head on the side, And all day long in my madness, "They've murdered her!" I cried.

They locked me away from my fellows,--put me in cruel chains, It seems I had seized a weapon to beat out the surgeon's brains.

I cried in my wild, mad fury, that he was a devil sent To gloat o'er the frenzied anguish with which my heart was rent.

I spent that night with the irons heavy upon my wrists, And my wife lay dead quite near me. I beat with my fettered fists, Beat at my prison panels, and then--O G.o.d!--and then I heard the shrieks of women and the tramp of hurrying men.

I heard the cry, "Ship afire!" caught up by a hundred throats, And over the roar the captain shouting to lower the boats; Then cry upon cry, and curses, and the crackle of burning wood, And the place grew hot as a furnace, I could feel it where I stood.

I beat at the door and shouted, but never a sound came back, And the timbers above me started, till right through a yawning crack I could see the flames shoot upward, seizing on mast and sail, Fanned in their burning fury by the breath of the howling gale.

I dashed at the door in fury, shrieking, "I will not die!

Die in this burning prison!"--but I caught no answering cry.

Then, suddenly, right upon me, the flames crept up with a roar, And their fiery tongues shot forward, cracking my prison door.

I was free--with the heavy iron door dragging me down to death; I fought my way to the cabin, choked with the burning breath Of the flames that danced around me like man-mocking fiends at play, And then--O G.o.d! I can see it, and shall to my dying day.

There lay my Nell as they'd left her, dead in her berth that night; The flames flung a smile on her features,--a horrible, lurid light.

G.o.d knows how I reached and touched her, but I found myself by her side; I thought she was living a moment, I forgot that my Nell had died.

In the shock of those awful seconds reason came back to my brain; I heard a sound as of breathing, and then a low cry of pain; Oh, was there mercy in heaven? Was there a G.o.d in the skies?

The dead woman's lips were moving, the dead woman opened her eyes.

I cursed like a madman raving--I cried to her, "Nell! my Nell!"

They had left us alone and helpless, alone in that burning h.e.l.l; They had left us alone to perish--forgotten me living--and she Had been left for the fire to bear her to heaven, instead of the sea.

I clutched at her, roused her shrieking, the stupor was on her still; I seized her in spite of my fetters,--fear gave a giant's will.

G.o.d knows how I did it, but blindly I fought through the flames and the wreck Up--up to the air, and brought her safe to the untouched deck.

We'd a moment of life together,--a moment of life, the time For one last word to each other,--'twas a moment supreme, sublime.

From the trance we'd for death mistaken, the heat had brought her to life, And I was fettered and helpless, so we lay there, husband and wife!

It was but a moment, but ages seemed to have pa.s.sed away, When a shout came over the water, and I looked, and lo, there lay, Right away from the vessel, a boat that was standing by; They had seen our forms on the vessel, as the flames lit up the sky.

I shouted a prayer to Heaven, then called to my wife, and she Tore with new strength at my fetters--G.o.d helped her, and I was free; Then over the burning bulwarks we leaped for one chance of life.

Did they save us? Well, here I am, sir, and yonder's my dear old wife.

We were out in the boat till daylight, when a great ship pa.s.sing by Took us on board, and at Melbourne landed us by and by.

We've played many parts in dramas since we went on that famous trip, But ne'er such a scene together as we had on the burning ship!

_George B. Sims._

The Boy Who Didn't Pa.s.s

A sad-faced little fellow sits alone in deep disgrace, There's a lump arising in his throat, tears streaming down his face; He wandered from his playmates, for he doesn't want to hear Their shouts of merry laughter, since the world has lost its cheer; He has sipped the cup of sorrow, he has drained the bitter gla.s.s, And his heart is fairly breaking; he's the boy who didn't pa.s.s.

In the apple tree the robin sings a cheery little song, But he doesn't seem to hear it, showing plainly something's wrong; Comes his faithful little spaniel for a romp and bit of play, But the troubled little fellow sternly bids him go away.

All alone he sits in sorrow, with his hair a tangled ma.s.s, And his eyes are red with weeping; he's the boy who didn't pa.s.s.

How he hates himself for failing, he can hear his playmates jeer, For they've left him with the dullards--gone ahead a half a year, And he tried so hard to conquer, oh, he tried to do his best, But now he knows, he's weaker, yes, and duller than the rest.

He's ashamed to tell his mother, for he thinks she'll hate him, too-- The little boy who didn't pa.s.s, who failed of getting through.

Oh, you who boast a laughing son, and speak of him as bright, And you who love a little girl who comes to you at night With smiling eyes, with dancing feet, with honors from her school, Turn to that lonely little boy who thinks he is a fool, And take him kindly by the hand, the dullest in his cla.s.s, He is the one who most needs love, the boy who didn't pa.s.s.

The Station-Master's Story

Yes, it's a quiet station, but it suits me well enough; I want a bit of the smooth now, for I've had my share o' rough.

This berth that the company gave me, they gave as the work was light; I was never fit for the signals after one awful night, I'd been in the box from a younker, and I'd never felt the strain Of the lives at my right hand's mercy in every pa.s.sing train.

One day there was something happened, and it made my nerves go queer, And it's all through that as you find me the station-master here.

I was on at the box down yonder--that's where we turn the mails, And specials, and fast expresses, on to the center rails; The side's for the other traffic--the luggage and local slows.

It was rare hard work at Christmas, when double the traffic grows.

I've been in the box down yonder nigh sixteen hours a day, Till my eyes grew dim and heavy, and my thoughts went all astray; But I've worked the points half-sleeping--and once I slept outright, Till the roar of the Limited woke me, and I nearly died with fright.

Then I thought of the lives in peril, and what might have been their fate Had I sprung to the points that evening a tenth of a tick too late; And a cold and ghastly shiver ran icily through my frame As I fancied the public clamor, the trial, and bitter shame.

I could see the b.l.o.o.d.y wreckage--I could see the mangled slain-- And the picture was seared for ever, blood-red, on my heated brain.

That moment my nerve was shattered, for I couldn't shut out the thought Of the lives I held in my keeping, and the ruin that might be wrought.

That night in our little cottage, as I kissed our sleeping child, My wife looked up from her sewing, and told me, as she smiled, That Johnny had made his mind up--he'd be a pointsman, too.

"He says when he's big, like daddy, he'll work in the box with you."

I frowned, for my heart was heavy, and my wife she saw the look; Lord bless you! my little Alice could read me like a book.

I'd to tell her of what had happened, and I said that I must leave, For a pointsman's arm ain't trusty when terror lurks in his sleeve.

But she cheered me up in a minute, and that night, ere we went to sleep, She made me give her a promise, which I swore that I'd always keep-- It was always to do my duty. "Do that, and then, come what will, You'll have no worry." said Alice, "if things go well or ill.

There's something that always tells us the thing that we ought to do"-- My wife was a bit religious, and in with the chapel crew.

But I knew she was talking reason, and I said to myself, says I, "I won't give in like a coward, it's a scare that'll soon go by."

Now, the very next day the missus had to go to the market town; She'd the Christmas things to see to, and she wanted to buy a gown.

She'd be gone for a spell, for the Parley didn't come back till eight, And I knew, on a Christmas Eve, too, the trains would be extra late.

So she settled to leave me Johnny, and then she could turn the key-- For she'd have some parcels to carry, and the boy would be safe with me.

He was five, was our little Johnny, and quiet, and nice, and good-- He was mad to go with daddy, and I'd often promised he should.

It was noon when the missus started,--her train went by my box; She could see, as she pa.s.sed my window, her darling's curly locks, I lifted him up to mammy, and he kissed his little hand, Then sat, like a mouse, in the corner, and thought it was fairyland.

But somehow I fell a-thinking of a scene that would not fade, Of how I had slept on duty, until I grew afraid; For the thought would weigh upon me, one day I might come to lie In a felon's cell for the slaughter of those I had doomed to die.