Chapter I: Turn Me Down a Lighted Way

I turn me down a lighted way
Where laughter rings and song floats out;
And, as I gain the happy throng,
All eagerly they flock about.

I smile on this side, and on that,
Join the gay flow of repartee:
Yet, deep, deep down, within my heart
Echoes the endless moan for thee.

I hark to him who compliments,
Within my eyes a sparkling light.
I play the game,--nor does he guess
Its fire has burned to ashes white.

They count me merriest of all.
Not one who notes the deep-down sigh,
Who lists--Life’s tragic undertone,--
_We’ve said good-bye--we’ve said good-bye_.

COUNSEL

Have you balked at the test you’ve been put to,
Are you weary of straining a point?
Is the fight too hard, the way too long?
Is there too much of sighing, too little of song?
Does ev’ry thing seem to be going wrong?
The scheme entire, as it were, out of joint?

Then lend me an ear whilst I counsel awhile,
You must take a _fresh_ grip, my friend,
The game is yours if you’ll make it your own,
Defeat is a word that need never be known.
He who _sticks_ in his mount, _cannot_ be thrown,
Let his steed strive its best to that end.

The sun goes down with the gloom of each night,
But it rises again with each morn,
And there’s so much of brightness to be gathered in,
Such wonderful happiness ours to win,
Throw despair to the winds, and anew begin,
Standing forth--the Mortal re-born!

DECISION

At times, I think, were we to talk it over
The something wanting in your life and mine,
We might arrive at clearer understanding
The cause of our unhappiness define.

Yet, ever with the impulse strong upon me
Such course to follow out as for the best,
Comes swift the contradictory impression,--
’Twould useless be to put it to the test.

That sympathy which pleads when souls are mated
Is the so woefully lacking,--’tis clear,
It could not prove aught else than effort wasted,--
You are so far,--to try and draw you near.

YOU NEVER GUESSED THE SECRET

You never guessed the secret,
Nor have unto to-day.
The truth of it never reached you,
I hid it so well away.
The truth of how I loved you,
Yet spake not, for your sake;
Nor is it easy to put aside
What One so longs to take.

The voice of you, in my musings,
The glance of you, in my dreams;
The feeling, you ever were near me,
Even now, how compelling it seems!
As if but to turn--were to see you;
To know the clasp of your hand;
Yet, I guarded the knowledge carefully,
And you did not understand.

Still the thought of you hurt, and I hungered--
Hungered, day and night,
It will count when the story is ended,
I was able to see aright.
You never guessed the secret,
Nor have unto to-day.
The truth of it never reached you,
I hid it so well away.

THE LIGHT

The light! the light!
For all is dark,
The light I pray,
My feet stumble,
I cannot find the way.

The light! the light!
For all is dark,
Soon the night
Complete, will overtake
The light! the light! Oh! God--the light!

EDUCATION

You say you are shocked, my lady,--and so you ought to be.
A comedy, quite upon my soul,
To make me love you,--then fence about
When I demand only righteous toll.

An innocent flirtation, you intended no harm,--
Well, a lesson the trifler learns,
To keep a safe distance away from fire,--
For the truth, not the lie, it burns.

RE-ADJUSTMENT

You beg of me to forgive you
The Other in your life.
She, who has for some time, I’ve discovered,
Been defrauding the wife.

You avow you never loved her
That ’twas she led you along--
And why hold one responsible
Who’s not guilty of a wrong?

Won’t I forgive, as you urge me,
Forgive and try to forget?
Let the rest of your life be a token,
Of how sincere your regret.

I must have time for my answer,
Some things take the breath--
It seems to die, we need not
Always wait for death.

I loved you so absolutely,
Thought you so completely my own;
I never questioned but that we meant
All in all to each other--alone.

And you the while were betraying
The faith I held so dear,
Selling the same to another--
No, do not come near.

When its foundation becomes weakened,
A structure is undermined,
Nor can it at all times, be strengthened anew,
They who venture the effort, find.

I will do my best to replace it--
The foundation my trust hath known;
Should I fail--tho’ sincere my intention--tion--
You must go on your way--alone.

FROM “RHYMES FOR WEE SWEETHEARTS”

Acknowledgment is made to Messrs. George W. Jacobs & Company for their courtesy in granting permission to reprint in this volume verses from “Rhymes for Wee Sweethearts.”

WHEN GRANDMAMA WAS LITTLE

When grandmama was little--
It was years and years ago,
In what folks call, at this time,
The old-fashioned days, you know--
Why, she had such a perfect time,
The best you ever saw:
We wish that we’d been little
Same time as grandmama.

She tells us all about it,
And then, if we are good,
And just sit still and listen,
The way all children should,
And never interrupt a bit,
Or question ’bout the rest
Till she’s all through, she shows us
The things up in her chest.

I can’t begin to tell you
The half of what is there:
The rag-dolls soiled and faded
That haven’t any hair,
And toys, and--oh, yes!--lady-dolls,
And, folded with the rest,
A little rose-bud muslin frock,
Her one-time very best.

And there’s her picture taken
In this self-same gown,
With ruffles reaching to the waist
And panties showing down;
Hair parted in the middle;
Over each ear a curl:
Oh! but our grandmama was pretty!
When a little girl!

HAROLD’S LAMENT

Blamed if I see any fun
In being a boy,
With ev’rybody trying
Their hardest to annoy!
It’s “Harold” here, and “Harold” there
Until they have me sick
Of “Run along!”--“Don’t be slow!”--
Or “Hurry up; be quick!”

First some one sends me down-stairs,
I run with might and main;
Before I’m half-way there it’s turn
And run right up again!
And sure as I go out to play,
Or have a little fun,
I’m called straight in: there’s something else
A-waiting to be done!

I just believe I’ll run away;
Pack all my things and go!
Can’t see the use of staying ’round
And being treated so!
For I just bet when they were small,
Not _one_ of them would do
Half of the errands and the things
That I’m expected to!

MRS. SPIDER

Brother Dick and I one day
Watched Mrs. Spider spin away:
My, how she spun, and spun, and spun,
Until she had her web all done!
Then, brother Dick, he said to me:
“Now, where can Mr. Spider be?”
We watched, but didn’t see him come,
So I guess he couldn’t have lived at home.

THE NAUGHTY LITTLE GIRL

When I’m so awf’ly naughty,
And
just
won’t
do
The very littlest tiny thing
That
I’m
told
to,
But kick and scream when any one
Attempts to come my way,
And press my fingers to my ears
To miss what they may say,
Why, then my mother says that I’m
As bad as bad can be;
She says she thinks it’s some one else
Instead
of
me.
She says she’s sure the little girl
She
used
to
know
Would never do the horrid things
That
hurt
her
so;
And though she doesn’t try to whip,
She looks so very sad
That somehow I just get ashamed
And can’t keep being bad:
I chase the naughty girl away
As far as far can be;
Then I run and kiss my mother, so
She’ll
know
I’m
me!

ON THE STAIR

A wee form nestles on the stair,
Two eyes betraying
The Sand-man has o’ertaken there
Wee steps delaying.
Too tired to mount the flight to bed,
Dear little tumbled golden head,
Just resting there a while instead,
Through dreamland straying.

THE LAND O’ DREAMS

All aboard for the Land o’ Dreams!
(One for the money and two for the show!)
All aboard for the Land o’ Dreams!
(Three to make ready and four to go!)
The passenger’s late,
But the cars all wait--
Just hark to the brakeman’s cries:
“All aboard for the Land o’ Dreams!”--
And the tickets are drowsy eyes.

II

All aboard for the Land o’ Dreams!
(One for the money and two for the show!)
All aboard for the Land o’ Dreams!
(Three to make ready and four to go!)
The whistles sound,
And the wheels go ’round,
And the bright green fields slip past;
The passenger’s here and the track is clear
To the Land o’ Dreams at last!

THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

Sometimes at night I get awake
And all’s so dark and still--
Why I’m ’bout scared even to take
A deep-down breath, until
I peer ’round first and try to see
If ev’rything’s all right!
For the terriblest things can be,--
The Middle of the Night.

I want so much to cry right out--
But I am awful ’fraid!
’Cause, if those black things _were_ about,
They’d hear the noise I made.
And mother sleeps so very sound,
She mightn’t hear, you see,
And then they’d make a great big bound
And run away with me.

So I lie just still as I can--
My heart a-thumping so!
Wishing I were a great big man,
So I’d not scare, you know.
When oh!--the covers pull away
And just as I begin
To scream--why, I hear mother say
It’s her tucking them in!

WHEN OUR FATHERS WERE LITTLE BOYS

When our fathers were little boys,
Before they grew to men,
I wonder did they make a noise
Or have a good time then?
I wonder did they ever fight
And punch each other’s nose?
Or if they always did just right
And never spoiled their clothes.

I wonder did their mothers scold
Sometimes and make them cry?
I wonder if they ever told
A teeny-weeny lie?
I wonder if they ever had
Such dirty hands and face?
I wonder were they ever mad
And banged things ’round the place?

I wonder did they ever run
To fires hard as they could?
Or if they called it better fun
To sit still and be good?
I wonder _were_ they ever small
And kept back in the shade?
Or didn’t they have to grow at all,
But just come ready made?

SLUMBER LAND

To all: “Good-night!”
Two eyes shut tight
And baby’s bound for Slumber,
The land where all tired children go,
The land where white dream-flowers grow
Beyond my art to number:
Winks
And blinks
And nods all past--
Mother’s arms are sure and fast,
Off to Slumber Land at last,
The moonlit Land of Slumber!

THE NEW BROTHER

We’ve got a new kid in our house;
And it ’bout gives me a fit,
The fuss that ev’rybody is
A-making over it.
All ’long I’ve been the pet, you see,
’Twas _me_ they tried to please
But now, this other fellow has
Them all upon their knees!

He’s just about the ugliest!
And really doesn’t seem
Able to do another thing
But double up and scream.
He’s got no teeth, he’s got no hair,--
Worst curiosity!
I’d like some one to tell me _why_
He counts for more than me!

End of Project Gutenberg's Poems of Life, by Katharine Forrest Hamill