Poems Teachers Ask For Volume I Part 11

My name is Tommy, an' I hates That feller of my sister Kate's, He's bigger'n I am an' you see He's sorter lookin' down on me, An' I resents it with a vim; I think I am just as good as him.

He's older, an' he's mighty fly, But's he's a kid, an' so am I.

One time he came,--down by the gate, I guess it must have been awful late,-- An' Katie, she was there, an' they Was feelin' very nice and gay, An' he was talkin' all the while About her sweet an' lovin' smile, An' everythin' was as nice as pie, An' they was there, an' so was I.

They didn't see me, 'cause I slid Down underneath a bush, an' hid, An' he was sayin' that his love Was greater'n all the stars above Up in the glorious heavens placed; An' then His arms got 'round her waist, An' clouds were floatin' in the sky, And they was there, an' so was I.

I didn't hear just all they said, But by an' by my sister's head Was droopin' on his shoulder, an'

I seen him holdin' Katie's hand, An' then he hugged her closer, some, An' then I heerd a kiss--yum, yum; An' Katie blushed an' drew a sigh, An' sorter coughed,--an' so did I.

An' then that feller looked around An' seed me there, down on the ground, An'--was he mad? well, betcher boots I gets right out of there an' scoots.

An' he just left my sister Kate A-standin' right there by the gate; An' I seen blood was in his eye, An' he runned fast--an' so did I.

I runned the very best I could, But he cotched up--I's 'fraid he would-- An' then he said he'd teach me how To know my manners, he'd allow; An' then he shaked me awful. Gee!

He jest--he frashed the ground with me.

An' then he stopped it by and by, 'Cause he was tired--an' so was I,

An' then he went back to the gate An' couldn't find my sister Kate 'Cause she went in to bed, while he Was runnin' 'round an' thumpin' me.

I got round in a shadder dim, An' made a face, an' guffed at him; An' then the moon larfed, in the sky, 'Cause he was there, an' so was I.

_Joseph Bert Smiley._

Is It Worth While?

Is it worth while that we jostle a brother.

Bearing his load on the rough road of life?

Is it worth while that we jeer at each other In blackness of heart that we war to the knife?

G.o.d pity us all in our pitiful strife.

G.o.d pity as all as we jostle each other; G.o.d pardon us all for the triumph we feel When a fellow goes down 'neath his load on the heather, Pierced to the heart: Words are keener than steel, And mightier far for woe than for weal,

Were it not well, in this brief little journey On over the isthmus, down into the tide, We give him a fish instead of a serpent, Ere folding the hands to be and abide Forever and aye in dust at his side?

Look at the roses saluting each other; Look at the herds all at peace on the plain; Man, and man only, makes war on his brother, And laughs in his heart at his peril and pain, Shamed by the beasts that go down on the plain.

Is it worth while that we battle to humble Some poor fellow down into the dust?

G.o.d pity us all! Time too soon will tumble All of us together, like leaves in a gust, Humbled, indeed, down into the dust.

_Joaquin Miller._

Life's Mirror

There are loyal hearts, there are spirits brave, There are souls that are pure and true; Then give to the world the best you have, And the best will come back to you.

Give love, and love to your life will flow, A strength in your utmost need; Have faith, and a score of hearts will show Their faith in your work and deed.

Give truth, and your gift will be paid in kind; And honor will honor meet, And the smile which is sweet will surely find A smile that is just as sweet.

Give pity and sorrow to those who mourn; You will gather in flowers again The scattered seeds from your thought outborne, Though the sowing seemed in vain.

For life is the mirror of king and slave; 'Tis just what we are and do; Then give to the world the best you have, And the best will come back to you.

_Madeline S. Bridges._

The Little Black-Eyed Rebel

A boy drove into the city, his wagon loaded down With food to feed the people of the British-governed town; And the little black-eyed rebel, so cunning and so sly, Was watching for his coming from the corner of her eye.

His face was broad and honest, his hands were brown and tough, The clothes he wore upon him were homespun, coa.r.s.e, and rough; But one there was who watched him, who long time lingered nigh, And cast at him sweet glances from the corner of her eye.

He drove up to the market, he waited in the line-- His apples and potatoes were fresh and fair and fine.

But long and long he waited, and no one came to buy, Save the black-eyed rebel, watching from the corner of her eye.

"Now, who will buy my apples?" he shouted, long and loud; And, "Who wants my potatoes?" he repeated to the crowd.

But from all the people round him came no word of reply, Save the black-eyed rebel, answering from the corner of her eye.

For she knew that 'neath the lining of the coat he wore that day Were long letters from the husbands and the fathers far away, Who were fighting for the freedom that they meant to gain, or die; And a tear like silver glistened in the corner of her eye.

But the treasures--how to get them? crept the question through her mind, Since keen enemies were watching for what prizes they might find; And she paused a while and pondered, with a pretty little sigh, Then resolve crept through her features, and a shrewdness fired her eye.

So she resolutely walked up to the wagon old and red-- "May I have a dozen apples for a kiss?" she sweetly said; And the brown face flushed to scarlet, for the boy was somewhat shy, And he saw her laughing at him from the corner of her eye.

"You may have them all for nothing, and more, if you want," quoth he.

"I will have them, my good fellow, but can pay for them," said she.

And she clambered on the wagon, minding not who all were by, With a laugh of reckless romping in the corner of her eye.

Clinging round his brawny neck, she clasped her fingers white and small, And then whispered, "Quick! the letters! thrust them underneath my shawl!

Carry back again _this_ package, and be sure that you are spry!"

And she sweetly smiled upon him from the corner of her eye.

Loud the motley crowd was laughing at the strange, ungirlish freak; And the boy was scared and panting, and so dashed he could not speak.

And "Miss, I have good apples," a bolder lad did cry; But she answered, "No, I thank you," from the corner of her eye.

With the news from loved ones absent to the dear friends they would greet, Searching them who hungered for them, swift she glided through the street.

"There is nothing worth the doing that it does not pay to try,"

Thought the little black-eyed rebel with a twinkle in her eye.