Debris Part 12

Careful then scatter the little things, They make life drear and lonely, Or strew its way with flowers gay,-- We live by trifles only.

SOMEBODY'S BABY'S DEAD.

A hea.r.s.e all draped in mourning, With white plumes overhead, Bearing a little coffin-- Somebody's baby's dead.

Upon the velvet cover Some hand has placed a wreath, White as the waxen features Of the baby that lies beneath.

Out in the graveyard making A rest for a s.h.i.+ning head, Somebody's heart is breaking, Somebody's baby's dead.

Over a baby's coffin, Heaping a mound of clay, Somebody's hopes are buried In that little grave to-day.

Somebody's home is dreary, Somebody's suns.h.i.+ne fled, Somebody's sad and weary, Somebody's baby's dead.

THE WITHERED ROSEBUD.

I gathered you, sweet little rosebud, With a dew crown encircling your head; Now, out of the window I toss you, Shriveled, and scentless, and dead.

You had opened to wondrous perfection, Had only my hand let you pa.s.s; Yet here you have perished for water-- I forgot to put some in the gla.s.s.

Ah! poor little withered, dead rosebud, How many a weak human heart, Too like you, has famis.h.i.+ng perished, When life had but only a start?

Yes, many a heart, little rosebud, Loving, and tender, and true, For water has faded and withered, And died in its beauty like you, Not because there was dearth of life's fountain, Nor the blessing to all might not pa.s.s, But because the strong hand which it clung to Forgot to put some in its gla.s.s.

MY s.h.i.+PS HAVE COME FROM SEA.

You are watching a s.h.i.+p, O, maiden fair, With parted lips and wistful air, The s.h.i.+p that out from the sheltered bay With white sails spread moves slow away; And I know, my girl, the thoughts that burn In your heart are of s.h.i.+p's return.

Ah! I know so well how your pulses beat, With the great sea sobbing at your feet; And the yellow stars in southern skies Are brighter not than your love-bright eyes.

I, too, have stood on the sea-wet sand And tearful waved a farewell hand, And watched with many a longing prayer.

My face, like yours, was young and fair, And my eyes were bright as the diamond's glow; They've lost their sparkle--long ago.

I stand along on the beach to-day, Watching the s.h.i.+ps that sail away; But never a sail from over the sea The flowing tide will bring to me, My s.h.i.+ps have come from sea.

The first was builded with childish hand, It floated away a castle grand-- A beautiful bubble with rainbow hues, Lined with the crystal of morning dews; To break at my feet by the sunny sea, A beautiful bubble came back to me-- Came back from my s.h.i.+p at sea.

I fas.h.i.+oned another in gladsome way And sent it forth on a Summer day.

I see it yet, a fairer craft, Never at danger mocking laughed; Its shrouds were the sheen of happy hours, Its helm a wreath of orange flowrs; And I freighted it down with love and truth, The golden hopes of my sunny youth.

Had it lived the storm--but it could not be, A stranded wreck on the surf-washed lea, My s.h.i.+p came home from sea.

And then a smiling fairy bark, A fragile, precious-freighted ark, Out on life's ocean drear and dark.

And I prayed to G.o.d as I never before, To s.h.i.+eld this back from the tempest's roar, To spare me this--but it could not be, A tiny coffin came back to me-- Came back from my s.h.i.+p at sea.

With reckless hand I launched again, A venture on the treacherous main, Bound for ambition's dizzy court; Sailed from a hopeless, loveless port; With gloomy walls whose silence chilled, With ghostly haunting memories filled, With never a breath of the roses dead; Never a rest for a weary head, Never a dream of a sweet to be, Hopeless, loveless still, to me, My s.h.i.+p came home from sea.

The last, and least, of all the s.h.i.+ps Fas.h.i.+oned with hands, and heart, and lips, I pushed from sh.o.r.e with its decks untrod And the freight it bore was my faith in G.o.d.

I recked not whither its way, nor when, Nor how, if ever, 'twould come again, And this, alone, came back to me, Rich-laden from the stormy sea.

And so, sweet maiden, while your dreams Paint fairest all that fairest seems, I stand with you and watch to-day The s.h.i.+p that sails form the sh.o.r.e away; But never a sail from over the sea The flowing tide will bring to me-- My s.h.i.+ps have come from sea.