Poems Teachers Ask For Volume II Part 11

Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment, House and home, thy friends provide; All without thy care or payment: All thy wants are well supplied.

How much better thou'rt attended Than the Son of G.o.d could be, When from heaven He descended And became a child like thee!

Soft and easy is thy cradle: Coa.r.s.e and hard thy Saviour lay, When His birthplace was a stable And His softest bed was hay.

Blessed babe! what glorious features-- Spotless fair, divinely bright!

Must He dwell with brutal creatures?

How could angels bear the sight?

Was there nothing but a manger Cursed sinners could afford To receive the heavenly stranger?

Did they thus affront their Lord?

Soft, my child: I did not chide thee, Though my song might sound too hard; 'Tis thy mother sits beside thee, And her arm shall be thy guard.

See the kinder shepherds round Him, Telling wonders from the sky!

Where they sought Him, there they found Him, With His Virgin mother by.

See the lovely babe a-dressing; Lovely infant, how He smiled!

When He wept, His mother's blessing Soothed and hush'd the holy Child,

Lo, He slumbers in a manger, Where the horned oxen fed:-- Peace, my darling, here's no danger; There's no ox anear thy bed.

May'st thou live to know and fear Him, Trust and love Him all thy days; Then go dwell forever near Him, See His face, and sing His praise!

_Isaac Watts._

If All the Skies

If all the skies were sunshine, Our faces would be fain To feel once more upon them The cooling splash of rain.

If all the world were music, Our hearts would often long For one sweet strain of silence, To break the endless song.

If life were always merry, Our souls would seek relief, And rest from weary laughter In the quiet arms of grief.

_Henry van d.y.k.e._

The Petrified Fern

In a valley, centuries ago, Grew a little fern leaf, green and slender, Veining delicate and fibers tender, Waving when the wind crept down so low; Rushes tall, and moss, and gra.s.s grew round it; Playful sunbeams darted in and found it; Drops of dew stole down by night and crowned it; But no foot of man e'er came that way; Earth was young and keeping holiday.

Monster fishes swam the silent main; Stately forests waved their giant branches; Mountains hurled their snowy avalanches; Mammoth creatures stalked across the plain, Nature reveled in grand mysteries.

But the little fern was not like these, Did not number with the hills and trees, Only grew and waved its sweet, wild way; No one came to note it day by day.

Earth, one time, put on a frolic mood, Heaved the rocks and changed the mighty motion Of the strong, dread currents of the ocean; Moved the hills and shook the haughty wood; Crushed the little fern in soft, moist clay, Covered it, and hid it safe away.

Oh, the long, long centuries since that day; Oh, the changes! Oh, life's bitter cost, Since the little useless fern was lost!

Useless? Lost? There came a thoughtful man Searching Nature's secrets far and deep; From a fissure in a rocky steep He withdrew a stone, o'er which there ran Fairy pencilings, a quaint design, Leaf.a.ge, veining, fibers, clear and fine, And the fern's life lay in every line.

So, I think, G.o.d hides some souls away, Sweetly to surprise us the Last Day.

_Mary L. Bolles Branch._

Cleon and I

Cleon hath ten thousand acres, Ne'er a one have I; Cleon dwelleth in a palace, In a cottage, I; Cleon hath a dozen fortunes, Not a penny, I, Yet the poorer of the twain is Cleon, and not I.

Cleon, true, possesseth acres, But the landscape, I; Half the charms to me it yieldeth Money cannot buy; Cleon harbors sloth and dullness, Freshening vigor, I; He in velvet, I in fustian-- Richer man am I.

Cleon is a slave to grandeur, Free as thought am I; Cleon fees a score of doctors, Need of none have I; Wealth-surrounded, care-environed, Cleon fears to die; Death may come--he'll find me ready, Happier man am I.

Cleon sees no charms in nature, In a daisy, I; Cleon hears no anthems ringing 'Twixt the sea and sky; Nature sings to me forever, Earnest listener, I; State for state, with all attendants-- Who would change?--Not I.

_Charles Mackay._

Washington

Great were the hearts and strong the minds Of those who framed in high debate The immortal league of love that binds Our fair, broad empire, State with State.

And deep the gladness of the hour When, as the auspicious task was done, In solemn trust the sword of power Was given to Glory's Unspoiled Son.

That n.o.ble race is gone--the suns Of fifty years have risen and set;-- But the bright links, those chosen ones, So strongly forged, are brighter yet.

Wide--as our own free race increase-- Wide shall extend the elastic chain, And bind in everlasting peace State after State, a mighty train.

_W.C. Bryant._

Towser Shall Be Tied To-Night