Home Poems. Kate Louise Wheeler
the maple’s shade;
A cart-wheel and the faded coat of one
Who long ago beneath the sod was laid.
Tho’ gone the smile of each familiar face
And merry voices break no more the calm,
Yet Memory sweet shall hallow all the place
And flood with peace the old deserted farm.
SEED THOUGHTS
The celebrated Author pens
His thorough thoughts from depths of mind,
And they are not in proper place
Until the depths of our’s they find.
The wisest reader may perceive,
In writings that shall ever live,
A reflex of his own wise thoughts
That to the world he did not give;
But to the mind of him who learns,
They are as seeds of knowledge brought
That soon take root and rarefy
Into a whole great field of thought.
SCHOOL
Life is a school for all mankind,
Where daily lessons are assigned
And each may do his best;
God is the Master who will teach
The truths that lie within our reach
And leave to us the rest.
Each has his proper place at start
And each can learn his little part
If earnestly he tries;
Altho’ his standard may be low,
He surely to the head will go
Who on himself relies.
Each has a chance among the rest
To do his worst or do his best
And his must be the choice,—
Either to break the golden rule
And cause confusion in life’s school,
Or heed the Master’s voice.
The discipline is not severe,
Altho’ the Master we should fear
To keep us from a wrong;
There is no need to sigh and fret,
Or to despair, with lashes wet,
Because our task seems long.
The lessons that so oft’ we spurn
We know that some time we must learn,
Then why should we delay?
He stays behind who is the dunce,
The wisest does his task at once
And goes upon his way.
The Master’s sympathy prevails
With him who tries altho’ he fails,
For He will help not chide;
When rest and honors have been won
He hears the Master say: “Well done,”
And he is satisfied.
THE GRACES
Faith, the angel of my prayer,
Hope, to lighten every care,
Love, to lift life’s heavy yoke,
These the graces I invoke;
But the greatest of the three
Is the last—sweet charity.
SUNSHINE
The sunshine makes the flowers grow,
They cannot thrive in shade;
If naught but darkness did they know
Their brightness soon would fade.
Our lives require the sunlight’s glow,
They cannot thrive in gloom;
If naught but darkness did thy know
Bright hopes would never bloom.
The sunny smiles that make life bright
And bless the passing hours,
Will do for souls that need the light
What sunshine does for flowers.
“WHAT SHALL IT PROFIT?”
Will it matter, by and by,
When he calls us each by name,
Whether you, or whether I,
Win earth’s honor and earth’s fame?
Onward, in the rush of life,
For the prizes of the race,
Shall we mingle in the strife
Crowding others out of place?
Shall we seek Ambition’s goal,
Where the earthly treasures stay,
Passing by some helpless soul
Who has lost the Heavenly way?
If no kindness we have shown,
Seeking to be first of all,
Shall we gain a “welcome home”
When we hear the Master’s call?
When life’s busy day is past,
Will He question you and me
Who was first, and who was last,
In the worldly victory?
If earth’s laurels we have won,
And Heaven’s glories are denied,
Shall we hear the words: “Well done,”
And our souls be satisfied?
Ere the prize we seek is gone,
And the triumph comes too late,
Love of fame shall urge us on
But the angels whisper:—“Wait.”
WHAT HE SAID
“Come and play with me,” he said;
And I saw his curly head
Peeping thro’ the fence below.
He was four and I was three
And he beckoned unto me
So I could not say him no.
“Come and live with me,” he said;
And I saw his manly head
Where the threads of silver grow.
He was passing forty-three
And he pleaded long with me
So I could not say him no.
HOME LIGHTS
When the work of day is over,
And the weary hours are past,
Home lights, gleaming in the distance,
Fill the soul with joy at last.
Tho’ the trials have been many,
And the world has proved unkind,
Lights