Part 23 (1/2)
I watch him as he skims along, Uttering his sweet and mournful cry; He starts not at my fitful song, Or flash of fluttering drapery.
He has no thought of any wrong; He scans me with a fearless eye.
Staunch friends are we, well tried and strong, The little sandpiper and I.
Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night When the loosed storm breaks furiously?
My driftwood fire will burn so bright!
To what warm shelter canst thou fly?
I do not fear for thee, though wroth The tempest rushes through the sky: For are we not G.o.d's children both, Thou, little sandpiper, and I?
_Celia Thaxter._
O LITTLE TOWN OF BETHLEHEM
O little town of Bethlehem, How still we see thee lie!
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep The silent stars go by; Yet in thy dark streets s.h.i.+neth The everlasting Light; The hopes and fears of all the years Are met in thee to-night.
For Christ is born of Mary, And, gathered all above, While mortals sleep, the angels keep Their watch of wondering love.
O morning stars, together Proclaim the holy birth!
And praises sing to G.o.d the King, And peace to men on earth.
How silently, how silently, The wondrous gift is given!
So G.o.d imparts to human hearts The blessings of His heaven.
No ear may hear His coming, But in this world of sin, Where meek souls will receive Him still, The dear Christ enters in.
O holy Child of Bethlehem!
Descend to us, we pray; Cast out our sin, and enter in, Be born in us to-day.
We hear the Christmas angels The great glad tidings tell; Oh, come to us, abide with us, Our Lord Emmanuel!
_Phillips Brooks._
THE SANDMAN
The rosy clouds float overhead, The sun is going down, And now the sandman's gentle tread Comes stealing through the town.
”White sand, white sand,” he softly cries, And, as he shakes his hand, Straightway there lies on babies' eyes His gift of s.h.i.+ning sand.
Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown, As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town.
From sunny beaches far away, Yes, in another land, He gathers up at break of day His store of s.h.i.+ning sand.
No tempests beat that sh.o.r.e remote, No s.h.i.+ps may sail that way; His little boat alone may float Within that lovely bay.
Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown, As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town.
He smiles to see the eyelids close Above the happy eyes!
And every child right well he knows-- Oh, he is very wise!
But if, as he goes through the land, A naughty baby cries, His other hand takes dull gray sand To close the wakeful eyes.
Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown, As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town.
So when you hear the sandman's song Sound through the twilight sweet, Be sure you do not keep him long A-waiting on the street.