English

Child , weary of thy baubles of to-day —
Child with the golden or the silver hair —
Say, how wouldst thou have built creation's stair,
Hadst thou been free to have thy puny way?
Could thy intelligence have shot the ray
That lit the universe of upper air?
Wouldst thou have bid the surging stars to dare
Their glorious flight and never stop nor stay?
Yet, casting on this life thy weak disdain,
Thou triest to guess thy lot in loftier places,
To draw the heaven of our human need;
A door of rest, a flash of wings, a strain

The Child was gone: the Mother stood alone
Within her niche above the noisy street,
Where varied sounds against the silence beat,
And children's footsteps echoed on the stone.
" What mean those empty arms; she makes no moan
As if her Child were lost; her smile is sweet,
And every child that passes she will greet
With loving eyes?" The answer seemed unknown.
And yet I found the key: from school each day
The children trooped beneath our Lady's shrine,
And, as each passed, her empty arms were spread,

The child reads on; her basket of eggs stands by.
She sees the weather signs, the Saints with awe,
And watches the fair houses of the sky:
The Goat , the Bull , the Ram , et cetera.

And so the little peasant maiden knows
That in the constellations we behold,
Are markets like the one to which she goes
Where goats and bulls and rams are bought and sold.

She reads about the market in the sky.
She turns a page and sees the Scales and then
Says that in Heaven, as at the grocery,

The child next door has a wreath on her hat;
Her afternoon frock sticks out like that,
All soft and frilly;
She doesn't believe in fairies at all
(She told me over the garden wall) —
She thinks they're silly.

The child next door has a watch of her own;
She has shiny hair and her name is Joan;
(Mine's only Mary).
But doesn't it seem very sad to you
To think that she never her whole life through
Has seen a fairy?

The child like mustard seed
Rolls out of the husk of death
Into the woman's fertile, fathomless lap.

Look, it has taken root!
See how it flourisheth!
See how it rises with magical, rosy sap!

As for our faith, it was there
When we did not know, did not care;
It fell from our husk in a little hasty seed.

Say, is it all we need?
Is it true that the little weed
Will flourish its branches in heaven when we slumber beneath?

a child (a boy) bouncing
a ball (a blue ball) —

He bounces it (a toy racket
in his hand) and runs

and catches it (with his
left hand) six floors

straight down —
which is the old back yard

Chide, chide no more away
The fleeting daughters of the day,
Nor with impatient thoughts out-run
The lasie Sun,
Or think the houres do move too slow;
Delay is kind,
And we too soon shall find
That which we seek, yet fear to know.

The mystick dark decrees
Unfold not of the Destinies,
Nor boldly seek to antedate
The laws of Fate,
Thy anxious search awhile forbeare,
Suppresse thy haste,
And know that Time at last
Will crowne thy hope, or fix thy fear.

Can I look back, and view with tranquil eye
The course of my sad life? what vain desires
Have kindled in my heart consuming fires!
That heart accustomed each extreme to try
Of hope and chilling fear What torturing dreams
Have vexed my soul with phantoms of despair,
Which wearied now regrets its wasted care!
Repentant shame its former anguish deems
Unworthy of that sacred spark of life
From heaven received! Exhausted in the strife
To thee Oh God! my sinking soul would turn,
To thee devote the remnant of my years;

O thou most terrible, most dreaded power,
In whatsoever form thou meetest the eye!
Whether thou biddest thy sudden arrow fly
In the dread silence of the midnight hour;
Or whether, hovering o'er the lingering wretch
Thy sad cold javelin hangs suspended long,
While round the couch the weeping kindred throng
With hope and fear alternately on stretch;
Oh, say, for me what horrors are prepared?
Am I now doomed to meet thy fatal arm?
Or wilt thou first from life steal every charm,
And bear away each good my soul would guard?

The Chesapeake so bold
Out of Boston, I've been told,
Came to take a British Frigate
Neat and handy O!
While the people of the port
Flocked out to see the sport,
With their music playing
Yankee Doodle Dandy O!

Now the British Frigate's name
Which for the purpose came
Of cooling Yankee courage
Neat and handy O!
Was the Shannon, Captain Broke,
Whose crew were heart of oak,
And for the fighting were confessed
To be the dandy O!

The engagement scarce begun