Riley Songs of Home Part 5

Us young-uns used to grin, At breakfast, on the sly, And mock the wobble of his chin And eyebrows belt so high And kind: _"How did you rest, last night?"_ We'd mumble and let on Our voices trimbled, and our sight Was dim, and hearin' gone.

Bad as I used to be, All I'm a-wantin' is As puore and ca'm a sleep fer me And sweet a sleep as his!

And so I pray, on Jedgment Day To wake, and with its light See _his_ face dawn, and hear him say-- "How did you rest, last night?"

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OUT OF THE HITHERWHERE

Out of the hitherwhere into the Yon-- The land that the Lord's love rests upon; Where one may rely on the friends he meets, And the smiles that greet him along the streets: Where the mother that left you years ago Will lift the hands that were folded so, And put them about you, with all the love And tenderness you are dreaming of.

Out of the hitherwhere into the Yon-- Where all of the friends of your youth have gone,-- Where the old schoolmate that laughed with you, Will laugh again as he used to do, Running to meet you, with such a face As lights like a moon the wondrous place Where G.o.d is living, and glad to live, Since He is the Master and may forgive.

Out of the hitherwhere into the Yon!-- Stay the hopes we are leaning on-- You, Divine, with Your merciful eyes Looking down from the far-away skies,-- Smile upon us, and reach and take Our worn souls Home for the old home's sake.-- And so Amen,--for our all seems gone Out of the hitherwhere into the Yon.

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JACK-IN-THE-BOX

_(Grandfather, musing.)_

In childish days! O memory, You bring such curious things to me!-- Laughs to the lip--tears to the eye, In looking on the gifts that lie Like broken playthings scattered o'er Imagination's nursery floor!

Did these old hands once click the key That let "Jack's" box-lid upward fly, And that blear-eyed, fur-whiskered elf Leap, as though frightened at himself, And quiveringly lean and stare At me, his jailer, laughing there?

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A child then! Now--I only know They call me very old; and so They will not let me have my way,-- But uselessly I sit all day Here by the chimney-jamb, and poke The lazy fire, and smoke and smoke, And watch the wreaths swoop up the flue, And chuckle--ay, I often do-- Seeing again, all vividly, Jack-in-the-box leap, as in glee To see how much he looks like me!

... They talk. I can't hear what they say-- But I am glad, clean through and through Sometimes, in fancying that they Are saying, "Sweet, that fancy strays In age back to our childish days!"

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THE BOYS

Where are they?--the friends of my childhood enchanted-- The clear, laughing eyes looking back in my own, And the warm, chubby fingers my palms have so wanted, As when we raced over Pink pastures of clover, And mocked the quail's whir and the b.u.mblebee's drone?

Have the breezes of time blown their blossomy faces Forever adrift down the years that are flown?

Am I never to see them romp back to their places, Where over the meadow, In sunshine and shadow, The meadow-larks trill, and the b.u.mblebees drone?

Where are they? Ah! dim in the dust lies the clover; The whippoorwill's call has a sorrowful tone, And the dove's--I have wept at it over and over;-- I want the glad l.u.s.ter Of youth, and the cl.u.s.ter Of faces asleep where the b.u.mblebees drone!

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IT'S _GOT_ TO BE

"When it's _got_ to be,"--like! always say, As I notice the years whiz past, And know each day is a yesterday, When we size it up, at last,-- Same as I said when my _boyhood_ went And I knowed _we_ had to quit,-- "It's _got_ to be, and it's _goin'_ to be!"-- So I said "Good-by" to _it_.

It's _got_ to be, and it's _goin'_ to be!

So at least I always try To kind o' say in a hearty way,-- "Well, it's _got_ to be. Good-by!"

The time jes melts like a late, last snow,-- When it's _got_ to be, it melts!

But I aim to keep a cheerful mind, Ef I can't keep nothin' else!

I knowed, when I come to twenty-one, That I'd soon be twenty-two,-- So I waved one hand at the soft young man, And I said, "Good-by to _you_!"

It's _got_ to be, and it's _goin'_ to be!

So at least I always try To kind o' say, in a cheerful way,-- "Well, it's _got_ to be.--Good-by!"

They kep' a-goin', the years and years, Yet still I smiled and smiled,-- For I'd said "Good-by" to my single life, And I now had a wife and child: Mother and son and the father--one,-- Till, last, on her bed of pain, She jes' smiled up, like she always done,-- And I said "Good-by" again.

It's _got_ to be, and it's _goin'_ to be!

So at least I always try To kind o' say, in a humble way,-- "Well, it's _got_ to be. Good-by!"

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And then my boy--as he growed to be Almost a man in size,-- Was more than a pride and joy to me, With his mother's smilin' eyes.-- He gimme the slip, when the War broke out, And followed me. And I Never knowed till the first right's end ...

I found him, and then, ... "Good-by."

It's _got_ to be, and it's _goin'_ to be!

So at least I always try To kind o' say, in a patient way, "Well, it's _got_ to be. Good-by!"

I have said, "Good-by!--Good-by!--Good-by!"

With my very best good will, All through life from the first,--and I Am a cheerful old man still:

But it's _got_ to end, and it's _goin'_ to end!

And this is the thing I'll do,-- With my last breath I will laugh, O Death, And say "Good-by" to _you_!...