Part 16 (1/2)

A KING'S GRAt.i.tUDE.

Plain men have fitful moods and so have Kings, For Kings are only men, and often made Of clay as common as e'er stained a spade.

But when the great are moody, then, the strings Of gilded harps are smitten, and their strains Are soft and soothing as the Summer rains.

And Saul was taken by an evil mood, He felt within himself his spirit faint: In vain he tossed upon his couch and wooed Refres.h.i.+ng slumbers. Sleep knows no constraint!

Then David came: his physic and advice All in a harp, and cleared the mind of Saul-- And Saul thereafter launched his javelin twice To nail the harper to the palace wall!

”THE TWINSES.” [13]

Two little children toddled up to me, Their faces fair as faces well could be, Roses and snow, but pale the roses were Like flowers fainting for the lack of air.

Sad was the tender study which I gave The winning creatures, both so sweet and grave, Two beautiful young Saxons, scarce knee high!

As like as peas! Two Lilliputian men!

Immortal ere they knew it by the pen Which waketh laughter or bedews the eye.

G.o.d bless you, little people! May His hand Hold you within its hollow all your days!

Smooth all the rugged places, and your ways Make long and pleasant in a fruitful land!

[Footnote 13: Children of his friend, Dr. George W. Bagby.]

DREAMERS.

Fools laugh at dreamers, and the dreamers smile In answer, if they any answer make: They know that Saxon Alfred could not bake The oaten cakes, but that he s.n.a.t.c.hed his Isle Back from the fierce and b.l.o.o.d.y-handed Dane.

And so, they leave the plodders to their gains-- Quit money changing for the student's lamp, And tune the harp to gain thereby some camp, Where what they learn is worth a kingdom's crown; They fas.h.i.+on bows and arrows to bring down The mighty truths which sail the upper air; To them the facts which make the fools despair Become familiar, and a thousand things Tell them the secrets they refuse to kings.

UNDER ONE BLANKET.

The sun went down in flame and smoke, The cold night pa.s.sed without alarms, And when the bitter morning broke Our men stood to their arms.

But not a foe in front was found After the long and stubborn fight.

The enemy had left the ground Where we had lain that night.

In hollows where the sun was lost Unthawed still lay the s.h.i.+ning snow, And on the rugged ground the frost In slender spears did grow.

Close to us, where our final rush Was made at closing in of day, We saw, amid an awful hush, The rigid shapes of clay:

Things, which but yesterday had life, And answered to the trumpet's call, Remained as victims of the strife, Clods of the Valley all!

Then, the grim detail marched away A grave from the hard soil to wrench Wherein should sleep the Blue and Grey All in a ghastly trench!

A thicket of young pines arose, Midway upon that frosty ground; A shelter from the winds and snows, And by its edge I found