Part 18 (1/2)
THE SECRET
Old Santa Claus came with his pack On his back Right down the chimney flue; His long flowing beard was ghostlike and weird But his cheeks had a ruddy hue; And his jacket was as red as a woodp.e.c.k.e.r's head But his breeches, I think, were blue.
I heard a soft step like a hoof On the roof, And I closed my outside eye; Then played-like I slept, but the other eye kept A watch on the jolly old guy; And I caught him in the act with his bundles all unpacked, But I'm not going to tell, not I.
When Santa comes again this year With his deer And a sled full of toys for me, I don't mean to keep either eye from its sleep While he climbs my Christmas tree; For I don't think it's right to the happy old wight To spy on his mystery.
A RHYMELESS SONNET
Sardonic _Death_, clothed in a scarlet shroud, Salutes his minions on the crumbling thrones Of Tyranny, and with malicious leer, He points a fleshless finger toward the fields Of Belgium: ”No harvest since the days Of Bonaparte and Waterloo hath filled My flagons with a wine of such a taste; Your crowns ye hold by rights divine indeed!”
But _One_ has entered in at lowly doors And sits by every hearthstone where they will: ”My _Word_ enthron-ed in Democracy Has twined the holly round Columbia's brow-- A crown of 'Peace on earth, good will to men.'
I am the _Resurrection_ and the _Life_!”
AMBITION
I covet not the warrior's flas.h.i.+ng steel That drives the dreaded foe to headlong flight; I envy not the czar his ruthless might That grinds a state beneath an iron heel; I do not ask that I may ever feel The thrill that follows fame's uncertain light; And in the game of life I do not quite Expect always to hold a winning deal.
Grant me the power to help my fellow man To bear some ill that he may not deserve; Give me the heart that I may never swerve, In scorn of Death, to do what good I can; But most of all let me but light the fires Upon the altar of the _youth's_ desires.
OPPORTUNITY
I often met her in the days of youth Along the highway where the world goes by; And sometimes when I caught her wistful eye I wondered that it seemed so filled with ruth.
She was a modest maiden, plain, in truth, And unattractive, and I thought, ”Now why Should one seek her companions.h.i.+p; not I-- At least, until I've had my fling, forsooth!”
And so I pa.s.sed her by and had my day, And met a thousand whom I thought more fair In tinsel gowns beneath electric glare-- A thousand, but they went their primrose way.
Now she's a queen, and boasts a score of sons-- Her consort he who shunned my charming ones!
HOLIDAY THOUGHTS
The night was like some monster omen ill, Whose shrieking froze the marrow of my bones; But day dawned calm, though white as polar zones, The bluebird shouting ”Spring!” from every hill.
The world lay parching in the noonday grill, And blades of corn were twisting into cones; But night brought rain, and now, like golden thrones, The fruited shocks deride October's chill.
Dear Lord, I would that we might live by faith, However cold and dark the day may seem, And trust that every cloud is just a wraith, And every shadow but a fading dream.
Oh, grant our eyes may see the beacon lights That blaze forever on the peaks and heights!
THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW
Good-bye, Old Year; our journey has been brief; I'm sorry now to leave thee dying here, For thou hast borne my burdens with good cheer, And never murmured, but a.s.suaged my grief.
When buds of promise never came to leaf; When broken resolutions, doubt, and fear Did mock at my defeat, O good Gray Year, Thy rea.s.suring smile restored belief.
Good-bye--farewell! I trust thy dear young child, Who greets me at the gateway of the dawn, Will deal as gently with me and my friends, And lead our footsteps through the springtime mild, O'er summer's lawn, down autumn's slopes, and on To where the path of chill December ends.
FELLOW TRAVELERS
Old comrade, must we separate to-day?
Sometimes my feet have faltered, sore and tired, And sometimes in the sloughs and quicksands mired, But it has always helped to hear you say, ”The road is fine a little further on.”
Your optimism and your hearty cheer Have made the journey pleasant, good Old Year, And I, in truth, regret to see you gone.
Young New Year whom you leave me as a guide, In doubt, would have me pledge a lot of things Before we start, and make some offerings To G.o.ds whose love, I fear, will not abide.
And yet I like my new companion's face.