Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1900-03-15
From my heart l give thee joy
Ere it passes, barefoot boy.

Then there is the beautiful, pathetic
poem entitled WEAKNESS, beginning
thus:
Oh, little feet, that such long years
Must wander on through hopes and
fears,
Must ache and bleed beneath your load;
!, nearer to the wayside inn,
Where toll shall cease and rest begin.
Am weary, thinking of your load
Oh, little hands, that, weak or strong,
Have still to serve or rule so long,
Have still so long to give or ask;
|, who so much with book and pen
Have toiled among my fellow men,
Am weary, thinking of your task
From My Old Armchair, was the re-
Spouse to the children of Cambridge
when they presented him with a chair
made from the wood of the spreading
chestnut tree" celebrated in The Viii
lage Blacksmith.
Adeline d. 7. Whitney has voiced the
heart cry of many a mother for her lit
tie ones who have gone-not the dead
only, but grown up and gone away
Read the opening stanzas of Their
Angels.
My heart is as lonely as heart can be
And the cry of Rachel goes up from me
For the tender faces, unforgot,
Of the little children that are not;
Although I know
They are all in the land where / shall
go.
Only one died There is one small
mound
Violet heaped in the sweet grave.
ground;
Twenty years they have doomed and
spread
Over the little baby head;
She is safe in the land where shall go
My bright, brave boy is a grave-eyed
man,
Facing the world as a worker can;
then,
And lay his cheek to my heart again;
And so I know
shall have him there where we both
shall go.
Tho N-npIj ier 80
cold,
And men and women grow gray anC
DID,
But behind the world is an inner place
Where yet their angels behold his
face;
And, 10, we know
That only the children can see him so
Helen Hunt Jackson has sweetly
sung to us of the Little Kings anG
Queens.
Monarchs whose kingdom no man
bounds,
Oh, blessed little kings and queens.
The only sOvereigns in the earth,
Their sovereignty nor rests nor leans
On pomp of riches or of birth.
OF course nearly every one has read
Charles Dickens beautiful poem, The
Children, a picture of his love for his
young pupils in the days when he was
tutor in a boys school. The man who
wrote of Little Nell could write only
the tenderest of verses to his departing
child friends What can be more
fraught with touching sentiment. than
the last Stanza?
| shall miss them at noon and at even
ing,
Their song in the school and the
street;
I shall miss the low hum of their
voices,
And the tramp Of their delicate feet.
When the lessons and tasks are all
ended
And Death says, The school is dis
missed"
May the little one gather around me.
To bid me goodnight and be kissed. -
Frank L. Stanton is another poet who
loves to sing of children and to them.
and many of his tenderest verses are
inspired by the clasp of the little
hand, and by these songs all hearts
are sweetened and made glad. The
happiness of The Thorn or Rose will
appeal to youth or age.
The way is long for thee, dear one,
But the same way I have trod:
cannot say This evil shun,"
Or, Take this way that leads to
God"
Find thou the way, with thy frail feet,
Even as l have found it, sweet.
II cannot say Beware the thorn,"
Because above it climbs the rose:
Nor whisper. Light will follow
morn"
For stars will shine at dayIight's
close.
Find thou the light and darkness feet
Even as have found them, sweet.
And yet, for only thy dear sake.
The tenderest prayer that thrills nv
breast
1t that the kind, good Cod shall make
A world of roses for thy rest:
But thou must find, with thy dear feet
Ihe thorn or rose as haua sunn4i