Poems Teachers Ask For Volume II Part 23

Life! I know not what thou art, But know that thou and I must part; And when, or how, or where we met I own to me's a secret yet.

Life! we've been long together Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; 'Tis hard to part when friends are dear-- Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear;

Then steal away; give little warning, Choose thine own time; Say not Good Night, but in some brighter clime Bid me Good Morning.

_Anna L. Barbauld._

Autumn Leaves

In the hush and the lonely silence Of the chill October night, Some wizard has worked his magic With fairy fingers light.

The leaves of the st.u.r.dy oak trees Are splendid with crimson and red.

And the golden flags of the maple Are fluttering overhead.

Through the tangle of faded gra.s.ses There are trailing vines ablaze, And the glory of warmth and color Gleams through the autumn haze.

Like banners of marching armies That farther and farther go; Down the winding roads and valleys The boughs of the sumacs glow.

So open your eyes, little children, And open your hearts as well, Till the charm of the bright October Shall fold you in its spell.

_Angelina Wray._

A Message for the Year

Not who you are, but what you are, That's what the world demands to know; Just what you are, what you can do To help mankind to live and grow.

Your lineage matters not at all, Nor counts one whit your gold or gear, What can you do to show the world The reason for your being here?

For just what s.p.a.ce you occupy The world requires you pay the rent; It does not shower its gifts galore, Its benefits are only lent; And it has need of workers true, Willing of hand, alert of brain; Go forth and prove what you can do, Nor wait to count o'er loss or gain.

Give of your best to help and cheer, The more you give the more you grow; This message evermore rings true, In time you reap whate'er you sow.

No failure you have need to fear, Except to fail to do your best-- What have you done, what can you do?

That is the question, that the test.

_Elizabeth Clarke Hardy._

Song of the Chattahoochee[*]

Out of the hills of Habersham, Down the valleys of Hall, I hurry amain to reach the plain, Run the rapid and leap the fall, Split at the rock and together again, Accept my bed, or narrow or wide, And flee from folly on every side With a lover's pain to attain the plain Far from the hills of Habersham, Far from the valleys of Hall.

All down the hills of Habersham, All through the valleys of Hall, The rushes cried "Abide, abide,"

The wilful waterweeds held me thrall, The laving laurel turned my tide, The ferns and the fondling gra.s.s said "Stay,"

The dewberry dipped for to work delay, And the little reeds sighed "Abide, abide Here in the hills of Habersham, Here in the valleys of Hall."

High o'er the hills of Habersham, Veiling the valleys of Hall, The hickory told me manifold Fair tales of shade, the poplar tall Wrought me her shadowy self to hold, The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine, O'erleaning, with flickering meaning and sign, Said, "Pa.s.s not, so cold, these manifold Deep shades of the hills of Habersham, These glades in the valleys of Hall."

And oft in the hills of Habersham, And oft in the valleys of Hall, The white quartz shone, and the smooth brookstone Did bar me of pa.s.sage with friendly brawl, And many a luminous jewel lone --Crystals clear or a-cloud with mist, Ruby, garnet, and amethyst-- Made lures with the lights of streaming stone, In the clefts of the hills of Habersham, In the beds of the valleys of Hall.

But oh, not the hills of Habersham, And oh, not the valleys of Hall Avail: I am fain for to water the plain.

Downward the voices of Duty call-- Downward, to toil and be mixed with the main.

The dry fields burn, and the mills are to turn, And a myriad flowers mortally yearn, And the lordly main from beyond the plain Calls o'er the hills of Habersham, Calls through the valleys of Hall.

_Sidney Lanier._

[Footnote *: Used by special permission of the publishers, Charles Scribner's Sons.]

Courting in Kentucky

When Mary Ann Dollinger got the skule daown thar on Injun Bay I was glad, fer I like ter see a gal makin' her honest way, I heerd some talk in the village abaout her flyin' high, Tew high for busy farmer folks with ch.o.r.es ter dew ter fly; But I paid no sorter attention ter all the talk ontell She come in her reg-lar boardin' raound ter visit with us a spell.

My Jake an' her has been cronies ever since they could walk, An' it tuk me aback ter hear her kerrectin' him in his talk.

Jake ain't no hand at grammar, though he hain't his beat for work; But I sez ter myself, "Look out, my gal, yer a-foolin' with a Turk!"

Jake bore it wonderful patient, an' said in a mournful way, He p'sumed he was behindhand with the doin's at Injun Bay.

I remember once he was askin' for some o' my Injun buns, An' she said he should allus say, "them air," stid o' "them is" the ones.

Wal, Mary Ann kep' at him stiddy mornin' an' evenin' long, Tell he da.s.sent open his mouth for fear o' talkin' wrong.

One day I was pickin' currants down by the old quince tree, When I heerd Jake's voice a-sayin', "Be ye willin' ter marry me?"

An' Mary Ann kerrectin', "Air ye willin', yeou sh'd say."

Our Jake he put his foot daown in a plum decided way.

"No wimmen-folks is a-goin' ter be rearrangin' me, Hereafter I says 'c.r.a.ps,' 'them is,' 'I calk'late,' an' 'I be.'

Ef folks don't like my talk they needn't hark ter what I say; But I ain't a-goin' to take no sa.s.s from folks from Injun Bay; I ask you free an' final, 'Be ye goin' to marry me?'"

An' Mary Ann sez, tremblin', yet anxious-like, "I be."

G.o.d's Will is Best

Whichever way the wind doth blow, Some heart is glad to have it so; Then blow it east, or blow it west, The wind that blows, that wind is best.

My little craft sails not alone,-- A thousand fleets, from every zone, Are out upon a thousand seas, And what for me were favoring breeze Might dash another with the shock Of doom upon some hidden rock.