Poems Teachers Ask For. Various

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ I used to want to go in there to dust and sweep the floor, But 'twas just as if 'twas the parson there, writing his sermon out; Even the baby—bless the child!—learned never to slam that door! People called him a clever man, and folks from the city came To look at his new invention and wish my Joe success; And Joe would say, "Little woman,"—for that was my old pet-name— "If my plan succeeds, you shall have a coach and pair, and a fine silk dress!" I didn't want 'em, the grand new things, but it made the big tears start To see my Joe with his restless eyes, his fingers worn away To the skin and bone, for he wouldn't eat; and it almost broke my heart When he tossed at night from side to side, till the dawning of the day. Of course, with it all he lost his place. I couldn't blame the man, The foreman there at the factory, for losing faith in Joe, For his mind was never upon his work, but on some invention-plan, As with folded arms and his head bent down he wandered to and fro. Yet, he kept on workin' at various things, till our little money went For wheels and screws and metal casts and things I had never seen; And I ceased to ask, "Any pay, my dear?" with the answer, "Not a cent!" When his lock and his patent-saw had failed, he clung to that great machine. I remember one special thing that year. He had bought some costly tool, When we wanted our boy to learn to read—he was five years old, you know; He went to his class with cold, bare feet, till at last he came from school And gravely said, "Don't send me back; the children tease me so!" I hadn't the heart to cross the child, so, while I sat and sewed He would rock his little sister in the cradle at my side; And when the struggle was hardest and I felt keen hunger's goad Driving me almost to despair—the little baby died. Her father came to the cradle-side, as she lay, so small and white; "Maggie," he said, "I have killed this child, and now I am killing you! I swear by heaven, I will give it up!" Yet, like a thief, that night He stole to the shop and worked; his brow all wet with a clammy dew. I cannot tell how I lived that week, my little boy and I, Too proud to beg; too weak to work; and the weather cold and wild. I can only think of one dark night when the rain poured from the sky, And the wind went wailing round the house, like the ghost of my buried child. Joe still toiled in the little shop. Somebody clicked the gate; A neighbor-lad brought in the mail and laid it on the floor, But I sat half-stunned by my heavy grief crouched over the empty grate, Till I heard—the crack of a pistol-shot; and I sprang to the workshop door. That door was locked and the bolt shut fast. I could not cry, nor speak, But I snatched my boy from the corner there, sick with a sudden dread, And carried him out through the garden plot, forgetting my arms were weak, Forgetting the rainy torrent that beat on my bare young head; The front door yielded to my touch. I staggered faintly in, Fearing—what? He stood unharmed, though the wall showed a jagged hole. In his trembling hand, his aim had failed, and the great and deadly sin Of his own life's blood was not yet laid on the poor man's tortured soul. But the pistol held another charge, I knew; and like something mad I shook my fist in my poor man's face, and shrieked at him, fierce and wild, "How can you dare to rob us so?"—and I seized the little lad; "How can you dare to rob your wife and your little helpless child?" All of a sudden, he bowed his head, while from his nerveless hand That hung so limp, I almost feared to see the pistol fall. "Maggie," he said in a low, low voice, "you see me as I stand A hopeless man. My plan has failed. That letter tells you all." Then for a moment the house was still as ever the house of death; Only the drip of the rain outside, for the storm was almost o'er; But no;—there followed another sound, and I started, caught my breath; As a stalwart man with a heavy step came in at the open door. СКАЧАТЬ