. My tussle with the devil, and other stories . nking, thinking, thinking,As the needle travels to and froThrough sheerest linen—finest lace—Weaving patterns—all unseen,Upon its face. Pictures vivid, pictures dim,Pictures gay and with sadness grim,Tiny feet—clinging hands—All are in the fabrics sheen. Unseen tracery takes its place,To weave again its mystic theme. 172 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL THINKING The only value of thinking Is thinking of things worth while, Of thinking of what you want to be, And thinking of things to do For the folks—who know not the valueOf thinking of things worth whil
. My tussle with the devil, and other stories . nking, thinking, thinking,As the needle travels to and froThrough sheerest linen—finest lace—Weaving patterns—all unseen,Upon its face. Pictures vivid, pictures dim,Pictures gay and with sadness grim,Tiny feet—clinging hands—All are in the fabrics sheen. Unseen tracery takes its place,To weave again its mystic theme. 172 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL THINKING The only value of thinking Is thinking of things worth while, Of thinking of what you want to be, And thinking of things to do For the folks—who know not the valueOf thinking of things worth that you are, or will be,Is vested in its the thoughts worth while,And the deeds well build your mansion here—and there,So what are you thinking now— there? FANCIES 173 Oh! the hours we spend, And the days we spend, In thinking no thoughts at all— For the only thoughts— which really count—Are the thoughts of love sent out to all,For they are the thoughts worth while. gessterbap—®o«tiap. A Fantasy in Three Parts PART L—YESTERDAY ITTLE wisps of clouds Imeet as I wander by thesea,—fragile as lacy petti-coats that imprison theform. Useless they seem to be, butas I watch I think I see a form. Mul-tiplying, I mistake seeming for fact,and revel in the vision they recall. Cloudless skies—dazzling sunshine—^heavy scent of flowers, and floatingupon the breast of the jeweled sea, abarge—gay with silken draperies,flowers and the music of many bladescleaving the waves. Upon a golden couch lies a softlyclad nymph. Sapphire are her eyes,alabaster her arms, coral tinges hermouth and pearls gleam, as the sunwarms and bathes her in its rays. 177 178 MY TUSSLE WITH THE DEVIL So motionless she lies that onemight think it a magical statue carvenby a master hand—only, in the eyesgleams a force which keeps at regu-lar beats the play of the blades andsends the craft to the port desired. Supporting herself on one arm, sheraises high
Size: 1588px × 1573px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookauthorharryhou, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookyear1918
