. At early candle light and other poems. ! but failed at last when up cameAbner Smith, His face lit with the great big heart he loves his chil-dren with, And, when they brought him forward there, he stam-mered, and began, * I was only a drunkard when you came, and now I ama man; And then his wife so sadly said, *T is hard to hear j^outell The old Bible, and old pulpit, and old Shiloh Churchfarewell! When to-morrow, at the break of day, that harvester,the sun, Shall husk the early shadows from the hill-tops, one byone. And by the winds of morning the shreds are swept, andwhirled, And piled upon
. At early candle light and other poems. ! but failed at last when up cameAbner Smith, His face lit with the great big heart he loves his chil-dren with, And, when they brought him forward there, he stam-mered, and began, * I was only a drunkard when you came, and now I ama man; And then his wife so sadly said, *T is hard to hear j^outell The old Bible, and old pulpit, and old Shiloh Churchfarewell! When to-morrow, at the break of day, that harvester,the sun, Shall husk the early shadows from the hill-tops, one byone. And by the winds of morning the shreds are swept, andwhirled, And piled upon the porphyry plain that rims the wak-ing world, 124 THE LAST SERMON When the torch of dawn among them makes all the east to glow,Then, with our babes around us, we will both arise and goBack to the humble building, and, with all our hearts and minds,Sing the song we ve loved so long,—** Blest be the tie that binds,And with a sigh say fond Good-bj^e, till Shiloh Church we greetThro other eyes in Paradise, childlike round Shilohs SOMETHING IN THE SUMNER 5iE« m/m^^- L .MhrMffi QSl^ HEN the mower cuts theclover, and the swallowskims the corn,And the cockerel is telling he is glad that he was born;When the dawn is rich with robins, piping in the poplar trees,And, deep within the hollyhocks, you hear the honeybees;When the quail calls up his covey, by the whistle of his name,In the plaited old fence corner, with its Indian pinksaflame, O something in the summer seems to say,Sip the sweetness of the morning, while you may^For Love will soon be winging on his way—Something in the summer seems to 126 SOnCTHING IN THE SUPinER When the wheat upon the hillside, in bending billows rolled,Is tossing scarlet poppies high upon its waves of gold ;When by the tree the baby, whose father binds the sheaves,Is laughing at the squirrels hid among the lisping leaves;When reapers rest at noon within the ample leafy the oriole is swinging in his emerald ambuscade, O som
Size: 3158px × 792px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bo, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookidatearlycandlelig00mcin
