Poems Teachers Ask For, Book Two. Various

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      It was an old, old, old, old lady,

      And a boy that was half past three;

      And the way that they played together

      Was beautiful to see.

      She couldn't go running and jumping,

      And the boy, no more could he;

      For he was a thin little fellow,

      With a thin little twisted knee,

      They sat in the yellow sunlight,

      Out under the maple-tree;

      And the game that they played I'll tell you,

      Just as it was told to me.

      It was Hide-and-Go-Seek they were playing,

      Though you'd never have known it to be—

      With an old, old, old, old lady,

      And a boy with a twisted knee.

      The boy would bend his face down

      On his one little sound right knee,

      And he'd guess where she was hiding,

      In guesses One, Two, Three!

      "You are in the china-closet!"

      He would cry, and laugh with glee—

      It wasn't the china-closet;

      But he still had Two and Three.

      "You are up in Papa's big bedroom,

      In the chest with the queer old key!"

      And she said: "You are warm and warmer;

      But you're not quite right," said she.

      "It can't be the little cupboard

      Where Mamma's things used to be—

      So it must be the clothes-press, Gran'ma!"

      And he found her with his Three.

      Then she covered her face with her fingers,

      That were wrinkled and white and wee,

      And she guessed where the boy was hiding,

      With a One and a Two and a Three.

      And they never had stirred from their places,

      Right under the maple-tree—

      This old, old, old, old lady,

      And the boy with the lame little knee—

      This dear, dear, dear old lady,

      And the boy who was half past three.

      They said, "The Master is coming

      To honor the town to-day,

      And none can tell at what house or home

      The Master will choose to stay."

      And I thought while my heart beat wildly,

      What if He should come to mine,

      How would I strive to entertain

      And honor the Guest Divine!

      And straight I turned to toiling

      To make my house more neat;

      I swept, and polished, and garnished.

      And decked it with blossoms sweet.

      I was troubled for fear the Master

      Might come ere my work was done,

      And I hasted and worked the faster,

      And watched the hurrying sun.

      But right in the midst of my duties

      A woman came to my door;

      She had come to tell me her sorrows

      And my comfort and aid to implore,

      And I said, "I cannot listen

      Nor help you any, to-day;

      I have greater things to attend to."

      And the pleader turned away.

      But soon there came another—

      A cripple, thin, pale and gray—

      And said, "Oh, let me stop and rest

      A while in your house, I pray!

      I have traveled far since morning,

      I am hungry, and faint, and weak;

      My heart is full of misery,

      And comfort and help I seek."

      And I cried, "I am grieved and sorry,

      But I cannot help you to-day.

      I look for a great and noble Guest,"

      And the cripple went away;

      And the day wore onward swiftly—

      And my task was nearly done,

      And a prayer was ever in my heart

      That the Master to me might come.

      And I thought I would spring to meet Him,

      And serve him with utmost care,

      When a little child stood by me

      With a face so sweet and fair—

      Sweet, but with marks of teardrops—

      And his clothes were tattered and old;

      A finger was bruised and bleeding,

      And his little bare feet were cold.

      And I said, "I'm sorry for you—

      You are sorely in need of care;

      But I cannot stop to give it,

      You must hasten otherwhere."

      And at the words, a shadow

      Swept o'er his blue-veined brow,—

      "Someone will feed and clothe you, dear,

      But I am too busy now."

      At last the day was ended,

      And my toil was over and done;

      My house was swept and garnished—

      And I watched in the dark—alone.

      Watched—but no footfall sounded,

      No one paused at my gate;

      No one entered my cottage door;

      I could only pray—and wait.

      I waited till night had deepened,

      And the Master had not come.

      "He has entered some other door," I said,

      "And gladdened some other home!"

      My labor had been for nothing,

      And I bowed my head and I wept,

      My heart was sore with longing—

      Yet—in spite СКАЧАТЬ