Poems Teachers Ask For Volume II Part 22

Among the legends sung or said Along our rocky sh.o.r.e, The Wishing Bridge of Marblehead May well be sung once more.

An hundred years ago (so ran The old-time story) all Good wishes said above its span Would, soon or late, befall.

If pure and earnest, never failed The prayers of man or maid For him who on the deep sea sailed, For her at home who stayed.

Once thither came two girls from school And wished in childish glee: And one would be a queen and rule, And one the world would see.

Time pa.s.sed; with change of hopes and fears And in the selfsame place, Two women, gray with middle years, Stood wondering, face to face.

With wakened memories, as they met, They queried what had been: "A poor man's wife am I, and yet,"

Said one, "I am a queen.

"My realm a little homestead is, Where, lacking crown and throne, I rule by loving services And patient toil alone."

The other said: "The great world lies Beyond me as it laid; O'er love's and duty's boundaries My feet have never strayed.

"I see but common sights at home, Its common sounds I hear, My widowed mother's sick-bed room Sufficeth for my sphere.

"I read to her some pleasant page Of travel far and wide, And in a dreamy pilgrimage We wander side by side.

"And when, at last, she falls asleep, My book becomes to me A magic gla.s.s: my watch I keep, But all the world I see.

"A farm-wife queen your place you fill, While fancy's privilege Is mine to walk the earth at will, Thanks to the Wishing Bridge."

"Nay, leave the legend for the truth,"

The other cried, "and say G.o.d gives the wishes of our youth But in His own best way!"

_John Greenleaf Whittier._

The Things Divine

These are the things I hold divine: A trusting chi id's hand laid in mine, Rich brown earth and wind-tossed trees, The taste of grapes and the drone of bees, A rhythmic gallop, long June days, A rose-hedged lane and lovers' lays, The welcome smile on neighbors' faces, Cool, wide hills and open places, Breeze-blown fields of silver rye, The wild, sweet note of the plover's cry, Fresh spring showers and scent of box, The soft, pale tint of the garden phlox, Lilacs blooming, a drowsy noon, A flight of geese and an autumn moon, Rolling meadows and storm-washed heights, A fountain murmur on summer nights, A dappled fawn in the forest hush, Simple words and the song of a thrush, Rose-red dawns and a mate to share With comrade soul my gypsy fare, A waiting fire when the twilight ends, A gallant heart and the voice of friends.

_Jean Brooks Burt._

Mothers of Men

The bravest battle that ever was fought!

Shall I tell you where and when?

On the map of the world you will find it not, 'Twas fought by the mothers of men.

Nay, not with cannon or battle shot, With sword or n.o.bler pen, Nay, not with eloquent words or thought From mouths of wonderful men;

But deep in the walled-up woman's heart-- Of woman that would not yield, But bravely, silently, bore her part-- Lo, there is that battle field!

No marshaling troup, no bivouac song, No banner to gleam or wave, But oh! these battles, they last so long-- From babyhood to the grave.

Yet, faithful as a bridge of stars, She fights in her walled-up town-- Fights on and on in the endless wars, Then, silent, unseen, goes down.

Oh, ye with banner and battle shot, And soldiers to shout and praise, I tell you the kingliest victories fought Were fought in those silent ways.

Oh, spotless in a world of shame, With splendid and silent scorn, Go back to G.o.d as white as you came-- The kingliest warrior born!

_Joaquin Miller._

Echo

"I asked of Echo, t'other day (Whose words are often few and funny), What to a novice she could say Of courtship, love and matrimony.

Quoth Echo plainly,--'Matter-o'-money!'

"Whom should I marry? Should it be A dashing damsel, gay and pert, A pattern of inconstancy; Or selfish, mercenary flirt?

Quoth Echo, sharply,--'Nary flirt!'

"What if, aweary of the strife That long has lured the dear deceiver, She promise to amend her life.

And sin no more; can I believe her?

Quoth Echo, very promptly;--'Leave her!'

"But if some maiden with a heart On me should venture to bestow it, Pray should I act the wiser part To take the treasure or forgo it?

Quoth Echo, with decision,--'Go it!'

"But what if, seemingly afraid To bind her fate in Hymen's fetter, She vow she means to die a maid, In answer to my loving letter?

Quoth Echo, rather coolly,--'Let her!'

"What if, in spite of her disdain, I find my heart entwined about With Cupid's dear, delicious chain So closely that I can't get out?

Quoth Echo, laughingly,--'Get out!'

"But if some maid with beauty blest, As pure and fair as Heaven can make her, Will share my labor and my rest Till envious Death shall overtake her?

Quoth Echo (sotto voce),-'Take her!'"

_John G. Saxe._

Life, I Know Not What Thou Art