_Will Carleton._
A Day Well Spent
If you sit down at set of sun And count the deeds that you have done, And, counting, find One self-denying act, one word that eased the heart of him that heard; One glance most kind, which felt like sunshine where it went, Then you may count that day well spent.
But if through, all the livelong day You"ve eased no heart by yea or nay, If through it all you"ve nothing done that you can trace That brought the sunshine to one face, No act most small that helped some soul and nothing cost, Then count that day as worse than lost.
Say Not the Struggle Nought Availeth
Say not the struggle nought availeth, The labor and the wounds are vain, The enemy faints not, nor faileth, And as things have been they remain.
If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars; It may be, in yon smoke concealed, Your comrades chase e"en now the fliers, And, but for you, possess the field.
For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, Seem here no painful inch to gain, Far back, through creeks and inlets making, Comes silent, flooding in, the main,
And not by eastern windows only, When daylight comes, comes in the light, In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly, But westward, look, the land is bright.
_A.H. Clough._
The Miller of the Dee
There dwelt a miller, hale and bold, Beside the river Dee; He worked and sang from morn till night-- No lark more blithe than he; And this the burden of his song Forever used to be: "I envy n.o.body--no, not I-- And n.o.body envies me!"
"Thou"rt wrong, my friend," said good King Hal, "As wrong as wrong can be; For could my heart be light as thine, I"d gladly change with thee.
And tell me now, what makes thee sing, With voice so loud and free, While I am sad, though I"m a king, Beside the river Dee?"
The miller smiled and doffed his cap, "I earn my bread," quoth he; "I love my wife, I love my friend, I love my children three; I owe no penny I cannot pay, I thank the river Dee That turns the mill that grinds the corn That feeds my babes and me."
"Good friend," said Hal, and sighed the while, "Farewell, and happy be; But say no more, if thou"dst be true That no one envies thee; Thy mealy cap is worth my crown, Thy mill my kingdom"s fee; Such men as thou art England"s boast, O miller of the Dee!"
_Charles Mackay._
The Old Red Cradle
Take me back to the days when the old red cradle rocked, In the sunshine of the years that are gone; To the good old trusty days, when the door was never locked, And we slumbered unmolested till the dawn.
I remember of my years I had numbered almost seven, And the old cradle stood against the wall-- I was youngest of the five, and two were gone to heaven, But the old red cradle rocked us all.
And if ever came a day when my cheeks were flushed and hot, When I did not mind my porridge or my play, I would clamber up its side and the pain would be forgot, When the old red cradle rocked away.
It has been a hallowed spot where I"ve turned through all the years, Which have brought me the evil with the good, And I turn again to-night, aye, and see it through my tears, The place where the dear old cradle stood.
By its side my father paused with a little time to spare.
And the care-lines would soften on his brow, Ah! "t was but a little while that I knew a father"s care, But I fancy in my dreams I see him now.
By my mother it was rocked when the evening meal was laid, And again I seem to see her as she smiled; When the rest were all in bed, "twas there she knelt and prayed, By the old red cradle and her child.
Aye, it cradled one and all, brothers, sisters in it lay, And it gave me the sweetest rest I"ve known; But to-night the tears will flow, and I let them have their way, For the pa.s.sing years are leaving me alone.
And it seems of those to come, I would gladly give them all For a slumber as free from care as then, Just to wake to-morrow morn where the rising sun would fall Round the old red cradle once again.
But the cradle long has gone and the burdens that it bore, One by one, have been gathered to the fold; Still the flock is incomplete, for it numbers only four, With one left out straying in the cold.
Heaven grant again we may in each other"s arms be locked, Where no sad tears of parting ever fall; G.o.d forbid that one be lost that the old red cradle rocked; And the dear old cradle rocked us all.
_Annie J. Granniss._
The Moo Cow Moo
My papa held me up to the Moo Cow Moo So close I could almost touch, And I fed him a couple of times or so, And I wasn"t a fraid-cat, much.
But if my papa goes in the house, And my mamma she goes in too, I keep still like a little mouse For the Moo Cow Moo might Moo.
The Moo Cow"s tail is a piece of rope All raveled out where it grows; And it"s just like feeling a piece of soap All over the Moo Cow"s nose.
And the Moo Cow Moo has lots of fun Just switching his tail about, But if he opens his mouth, why then I run, For that"s where the Moo comes out.
The Moo Cow Moo has deers on his head, And his eyes stick out of their place, And the nose of the Moo Cow Moo is spread All over the Moo Cow"s face.
And his feet are nothing but fingernails, And his mamma don"t keep them cut, And he gives folks milk in water pails, When he don"t keep his handles shut.
But if you or I pull his handles, why The Moo Cow Moo says it hurts, But the hired man sits down close by And squirts, and squirts, and squirts.
_Edmund Vance Cooke._
All Things Bright and Beautiful