Part 25 (1/2)
II
Long ago he left me, long and long ago; Now I wander thro' the world, seeking high and low.
Hidden safe and happy, in some pleasant place,-- If I could but hear his voice, soon I'd see his face!
Far away, Many a day, Where can Barney be?
Answer, dear, Don't you hear?
Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!
Birds that every spring-time sung him full of joy, Flowers he loved to pick for me, mind me of my boy.
Somewhere he is waiting till my steps come nigh; Love may hide itself awhile, but love can never die.
Heart, be glad, The little lad Will call again to thee: ”Father dear, Heaven is here, Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!”
1898.
AUTUMN IN THE GARDEN
When the frosty kiss of Autumn in the dark Makes its mark On the flowers, and the misty morning grieves Over fallen leaves; Then my olden garden, where the golden soil Through the toil Of a hundred years is mellow, rich, and deep, Whispers in its sleep.
'Mid the crumpled beds of marigold and phlox, Where the box Borders with its glossy green the ancient walks, There's a voice that talks Of the human hopes that bloomed and withered here Year by year,-- And the dreams that brightened all the labouring hours.
Fading as the flowers.
Yet the whispered story does not deepen grief; But relief For the loneliness of sorrow seems to flow From the Long-Ago, When I think of other lives that learned, like mine, To resign, And remember that the sadness of the fall Comes alike to all.
What regrets, what longings for the lost were theirs I And what prayers For the silent strength that nerves us to endure Things we cannot cure!
Pacing up and down the garden where they paced, I have traced All their well-worn paths of patience, till I find Comfort in my mind.
Faint and far away their ancient griefs appear: Yet how near Is the tender voice, the careworn, kindly face, Of the human race!
Let us walk together in the garden, dearest heart,-- Not apart!
They who know the sorrows other lives have known Never walk alone.
October, 1903.
THE MESSAGE
Waking from tender sleep, My neighbour's little child Put out his baby hand to me, Looked in my face, and smiled.
It seems as if he came Home from a happy land, To bring a message to my heart And make me understand.
Somewhere, among bright dreams, A child that once was mine Has whispered wordless love to him, And given him a sign.
Comfort of kindly speech, And counsel of the wise, Have helped me less than what I read In those deep-smiling eyes.