Nestlings A Collection of Poems

Excerpt

Within my palm, like roseleaves, dainty, sweet,I fold with tenderest love two little feet—Two little feet, twin flow'rets come to bringTo mother's heart the first sweet breath of spring.Wearied with play, at last they lie at rest,One satin sole against its fair mate pressed.Dear little feet, fain would this hand 'ere shieldThy tender flesh from thorns which lie concealedAlong the path which, stretching through the years,Leads on to God, through joy and silent tears,Oh, would that I could pluck from thy dear wayWhate'er might tempt these little feet to stray,What though my hands be torn by thorn and stone,Thy joy, for all my pain would soon atone;If but thy mother planned thy life for thee,No other path so bright as thine should be.But what am I, that I my love should countGreater than that of Him, who is love's fount—Who sent from heaven, these dainty baby feetTo make thy mother's life and love complete?What truer hand than His could mark thy path?What greater love than God, thy Father, hath?What greater wisdom shields thee from all strife?What greater mercy grants eternal life?When shadows come, and clouds obscure thy wayHe knows that darkness only heralds day.If bruised thy flesh, though mother's heart may bleed,He, in His mercy, knows thy greatest need.Then, little feet, though mother's prayers may rise,In love and trust, that never doubt impliesThat God, thy steps may lead in ways aright,And keep thy soul from sin's unholy blight,I'll leave thy future in His hands alone,And know, at last, He'll bring thee safely home.

Two little seeds sank deep in the earth,Down through the narrow darkening way,Side by side in a slow descent,Away from the light, on an April day.Two little seeds—you scarce could tellOne from the other—both brown and round,Planted, that day by the self-same handIn the mellow depths of the self same ground.Nestling together they chattered thus,As close in their cozy nest they lay:"What are we here for down in the darkHidden so deep from the light of day?""What are we here for? I, for one,"Said the first little seed, in a gruesome tone,"Shall just go to sleep, and sleep right on,Close by the side of this round smooth stone.I shall not stir, but I'll sweetly sleep,Until old Mother Earth must surely seeThat here, in the damp of the chilly ground,Is never the place for the like of me."Proud and idle, it went to sleep,And it slept right on, though the warm rain fell,And Nature found, when she came to look,Nothing at all but an empty shell.The other seed mused—"It cannot be rightThus in the earth to so idly lie,This life of ours will wasted beAnd soon in this gloom, unused, must die.I shall not sleep—from this narrow shellI'll find my way, and out of this nightI shall reach right up, until day by dayI nearer and nearer approach the light.Already I feel the welcome heatWarming the loam that around me lies,Already I see in my sweetest dreamsThe genial sun and the azure skies....