138 RETROSPECT. His head was so snowy white, And his eye was so sad with tears, That I thought that I must be rightThat sad look must be the Old Year's. "Old Year," I said, "if it be That my eyes are not something dim ”. (And an awe crept over me As trembling I spake to him), "Old Year, thou art dead and gone,— "Good friend," the Old Year said, Passing among the trees), "Good friend," men think that we die, But their thoughts are blind and vain; There's a day drawing ever nigh "Face to face we shall meet : Ah, me! for the folly of men, THE THREE SONS. 139 "Oh! I've wrong'd thee," I cried, " Old Year, And thy brothers that long have past; Had I known them better here, I could meet them better at last." "When thou walkest in this old wood, Thou may'st meet them all," said he; "Now I'll teach thee to thine own good, If thou wilt be taught of me." So he taught me a lesson grave; But I tell not the lesson he gave,— W. W. H. THE THREE SONS. I HAVE a son, a little son, a boy just five years old, With eyes of thoughtful earnestness, and mind of gentle mould. They tell me that unusual grace in all his appears, ways That my child is grave and wise of heart beyond his childish years. I cannot say how this may be: I know his face is fair, 140 THE THREE SONS. And yet his chiefest comeliness is his sweet and serious air: know his heart is kind and fond, I know he loveth me, But loveth yet his mother more with grateful fervency. But that which others most admire is the thought which fills his mind, The food for grave, inquiring speech he everywhere doth find. Strange questions doth he ask of me, when we together walk; He scarcely thinks as children think, or talks as children talk. Nor cares he much for childish sports, dotes not on bat or ball, But looks on manhood's ways and works, and aptly mimicks all. His little heart is busy still, and oftentimes perplex'd With thoughts about this world of ours, and thoughts about the next. He kneels at his dear mother's knee; she teacheth him to pray, And strange, and sweet, and solemn then are the words which he will say. Oh, should my gentle child be spared to manhood's years, like me, THE THREE SONS. 141 A holier and a wiser man, I trust, that he will be; And when I look into his eyes, and stroke his thoughtful brow, I dare not think what I should feel were I to lose him now. I have a son, a second son, a simple child of three, I'll not declare how bright and fair his little features be; How silver sweet those tones of his when he prattles on my knee; I do not think his light-blue eye is like his brother's keen, Nor his brow so full of childish thought as his hath ever been: But his little heart's a fouutain pure of kind and tender feeling, And his every look's a gleam of light rich depths of love revealing. When he walks with me, the country folk, who pass us in the street, Will shout for joy and bless my boy, he looks so mild and sweet. A playfellow is he to all, and yet with cheerful tone Will sing his little song of love when left to sport alone. 142 THE THREE SONS. His presence is like sunshine sent to gladden home and hearth, To comfort us in all our griefs, and sweeten all our mirth. Should he grow up to riper years, God grant his heart may prove As sweet a home for heavenly grace as now for earthly love: And if, beside his grave, the tears our aching eyes must dim, God comfort us for all the love which we shall lose in him. I have a son, a third sweet son; his age I cannot tell, For they reckon not by years and months where he is gone to dwell. To us for fourteen anxious months his infant smiles were given, And then he bade farewell to earth, and went to live in heaven. I cannot tell what form is his, what looks he weareth now, Nor guess how bright a glory crowns his shining seraph brow. The thoughts that fill his sinless soul, the bliss which he doth feel, Are number'd with the secret things which God will not reveal. |