Part 32 (1/2)

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE!

”Woodman, Spare That Tree” (by George Pope Morris, 1802-64) is included in this collection because I have loved it all my life, and I never knew any one who could or would offer a criticism upon it. Its value lies in its recognition of childhood's pleasures.

Woodman, spare that tree!

Touch not a single bough!

In youth it sheltered me, And I'll protect it now.

'Twas my forefather's hand That placed it near his cot; There, woodman, let it stand, Thy ax shall harm it not.

That old familiar tree, Whose glory and renown Are spread o'er land and sea-- And wouldst thou hew it down?

Woodman, forbear thy stroke!

Cut not its earth-bound ties; Oh, spare that aged oak Now towering to the skies!

When but an idle boy, I sought its grateful shade; In all their gus.h.i.+ng joy Here, too, my sisters played.

My mother kissed me here; My father pressed my hand-- Forgive this foolish tear, But let that old oak stand.

My heart-strings round thee cling, Close as thy bark, old friend!

Here shall the wild-bird sing, And still thy branches bend.

Old tree! the storm still brave!

And, woodman, leave the spot; While I've a hand to save, Thy ax shall harm it not.

GEORGE POPE MORRIS.

ABIDE WITH ME.

”Abide With Me” (Henry Francis Lyte, 1793-1847) appeals to our natural longing for the unchanging and to our love of security.

Abide with me! fast falls the eventide; The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide!

When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, O abide with me.

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day; Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pa.s.s away; Change and decay in all around I see: O Thou who changest not, abide with me!

HENRY FRANCIS LYTE.

LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT

”Lead, Kindly Light,” by John Henry Newman (1801-90), was written when Cardinal Newman was in the stress and strain of perplexity and mental distress and bodily pain. The poem has been a star in the darkness to thousands. It was the favourite poem of President McKinley.

Lead, kindly Light, amid th' encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on, The night is dark, and I am far from home, Lead Thou me on.

Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see The distant scene; one step enough for me.

I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou Shouldst lead me on; I loved to choose and see my path; but now Lead Thou me on.

I loved the garish day; and, spite of fears, Pride ruled my will: remember not past years.

So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still Will lead me on O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till The night is gone, And with the morn those angel faces smile, Which I have loved long since, and lost a while.