Poems Teachers Ask For, Book Two. Various
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Название: Poems Teachers Ask For, Book Two

Автор: Various

Издательство: Public Domain

Жанр: Поэзия

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СКАЧАТЬ a fit of boyish glee,

      Had untied the slender clothesline,

      From the harvest apple tree.

      Then old Towser heard the footsteps,

      Raised his bristles, fixed for fight,—

      "Bark away," the maiden whispers;

      "Towser, you are tied to-night."

      Then old Towser bounded forward,

      Passed the open kitchen door;

      Bessie screamed and quickly followed,

      But John Henry's gone before.

      Down the path he speeds most quickly,

      For old Towser sets the pace;

      And the maiden close behind them

      Shows them she is in the race.

      Then the clothesline, can she get it?

      And her eyes grow big and bright;

      And she springs and grasps it firmly:

      "Towser shall be tied to-night."

      Oftentimes a little minute

      Forms the destiny of men.

      You can change the fate of nations

      By the stroke of one small pen.

      Towser made one last long effort,

      Caught John Henry by the pants,

      But John Henry kept on running

      For he thought that his last chance.

      But the maiden held on firmly,

      And the rope was drawn up tight.

      But old Towser kept the garments,

      For he was not tied that night.

      Then the father hears the racket;

      With long strides he soon is there,

      When John Henry and the maiden,

      Crouching, for the worst prepare.

      At his feet John tells his story,

      Shows his clothing soiled and torn;

      And his face so sad and pleading,

      Yet so white and scared and worn,

      Touched the old man's heart with pity,

      Filled his eyes with misty light.

      "Take her, boy, and make her happy,—

      Towser shall be tied to-night."

      Law and Liberty

      O Liberty, thou child of Law,

      God's seal is on thy brow!

      O Law, her Mother first and last,

      God's very self art thou!

      Two flowers alike, yet not alike,

      On the same stem that grow,

      Two friends who cannot live apart,

      Yet seem each other's foe.

      One, the smooth river's mirrored flow

      Which decks the world with green;

      And one, the bank of sturdy rock

      Which hems the river in.

      O Daughter of the timeless Past,

      O Hope the Prophets saw,

      God give us Law in Liberty

      And Liberty in Law!

E.J. Cutler.

      His Mother's Song

      Beneath the hot midsummer sun

      The men had marched all day,

      And now beside a rippling stream

      Upon the grass they lay.

      Tiring of games and idle jest

      As swept the hours along,

      They cried to one who mused apart,

      "Come, friend, give us a song."

      "I fear I can not please," he said;

      "The only songs I know

      Are those my mother used to sing

      For me long years ago."

      "Sing one of those," a rough voice cried.

      "There's none but true men here;

      To every mother's son of us

      A mother's songs are dear."

      Then sweetly rose the singer's voice

      Amid unwonted calm:

      "Am I a soldier of the Cross,

      A follower of the Lamb?

      And shall I fear to own His cause?"

      The very stream was stilled,

      And hearts that never throbbed with fear,

      With tender thoughts were filled.

      Ended the song, the singer said,

      As to his feet he rose,

      "Thanks to you all, my friends; goodnight.

      God grant us sweet repose."

      "Sing us one more," the captain begged.

      The soldier bent his head,

      Then, glancing round, with smiling lips,

      "You'll join with me?" he said.

      "We'll sing that old familiar air

      Sweet as the bugle call,

      'All hail the power of Jesus' name!

      Let angels prostrate fall.'"

      Ah, wondrous was the old tune's spell.

      As on the soldiers sang;

      Man after man fell into line,

      And loud the voices rang.

      The songs are done, the camp is still,

      Naught but the stream is heard;

      But, ah! the depths of every soul

      By those old hymns are stirred,

      And up from many a bearded lip,

      In whispers soft and low,

      Rises the prayer that mother taught

      Her boy long years ago.

      When Father Carves the Duck

      We all look on with anxious eyes

      When Father carves the duck,

      And Mother almost always sighs

      When Father carves the duck;

      Then all of us prepare to rise

      And hold our bibs before our eyes,

      And be prepared for some surprise

      When Father carves the duck.

      He braces up and grabs the fork,

      Whene'er he carves the duck,

      And won't allow a soul to talk

      Until he carves the duck.

      The fork is jabbed into the sides,

      Across the breast the knife he slides,

      While every careful person hides

      From flying chips of duck.

      The platter's always sure to slip

      When Father carves the duck,

      And how it makes the dishes skip—

      Potatoes fly СКАЧАТЬ