Westward Ho!
We should not sit us down and sigh,
My girl, whose brow a fane appears,
Whose steadfast eyes look royally Backwards and forwards o'er the years-- The long, long years of conquered time,
The possible years unwon, that slope Before us in the pale sublime Of lives that have more faith than hope.
We dare not sit us down and dream Fond dreams, as idle children do:
My forehead owns too many a seam,
And tears have worn their channels through Your poor thin cheeks, which now I take Twixt my two hands, caressing.
Dear,
A little sunshine for my sake!
Although we're far on in the year.
Though all our violets, sweet! are dead,
The primrose lost from fields we knew,
Who knows that harvests may be spread For reapers brave like me and you?
Who knows what bright October suns May light up distant valleys mild,
Where as our pathway downward runs We see Joy meet us, like a child Who, sudden, by the roadside stands,
To kiss the travellers' weary brows,
And lead them through the twilight lands Safely unto their Father's house.
So, we'll not dream, nor look back, dear!
But march right on, content and bold,
To where our life sets, heavenly clear,
Westward, behind the hills of gold.
Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Other author posts
Labor Is Prayer
RE est orare: We, black-visaged sons of toil, From the coal-mine and the anvil And the delving of the soil,-- From the loom, the wharf, the warehouse, And the ever-whirling mill,
Too Late Dowglas Dowglas Tendir And Treu
Could ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas, In the old likeness that I knew,
The Mother’s Visit
NG years ago she visited my chamber, Steps soft and slow, a taper in her hand; Her fond kiss she laid upon my eyelids, Fair as an angel from the unknown land:
Resigning
Poor heart, what bitter words we speak When God speaks of resigning Children, that lay their pretty garlands by So piteously, yet with a humble mind; Sailors, who, when their ship rocks in the wind, Cast out her freight...
