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Part 3

Cross Roads · Margaret E. Sangster — chapter 3 of 20 · ~1,116 words · public domain

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I have struggled up through the lightning's glare, I have walked where the cliffs fell sheer To a gorge below, but I breathed a prayer, And my soul passed doubt and fear!

Here on the mountain top the air Is clear as a silver song; And the sun is warm on my unbound hair; AND WHAT THOUGH THE WAY WAS LONG?

What though the way was steep and bleak, And what though the road was hard? I stand at last on the mountain peak, With my eyes upraised to God!

A storm may sweep through the world below, It may rend great rocks apart; But here on the crest of the world I know That it cannot touch my heart.

LIL' FELLER

When th.' sunshine's golden-yeller Like th' curls upon his head, Then he wakes--th' lil' feller-- An' he jumps up, outen bed; An' he scrambles fer his knickers Flung, perhaps, upon th' floor, An' he takes his hat (my old 'un), An' he races through th' door-- An' I hear his voice, a-singin', In his odd, ole-fashioned way, 'Cause he's glad--th' lil' feller-- In th' mornin' o' the day.

Kinder makes me feel, well, lazy, So I hurry up, outside, Where th' mountains smile down, friendly-- And th' earth looks sorter wide; An' I hear his voice a-callin', Sayin', "Daddy, come an' see!" An' I find him makin' gardens Where a rock pile uster be-- An' I shout, "How goes it, sonny?" An' my heart feels light an' gay, Fer he's singin'--lil' feller-- In th' mornin' o' th' day.

Lil' feller, an' his gardens! It don't matter much ter him, If th' hoein's hard an' tedgious, An' th' crop he grows is slim; Fer he loves ter be a-workin', An' he loves ter see things start Outer nothin'.... There's a garden In th' rock-bed o' my heart That he's planted, just by singin' In his odd, ole-fashioned way-- 'Cause he's glad, MY LIL' FELLER, In th' mornin' o' th' day!

TO AN OLD SCHOOLHOUSE

Down by the end of the lane it stands, Where the sumac grows in a crimson thatch, Down where the sweet wild berry patch, Holds out a lure for eager hands. Down at the end of the lane, who knows The ghosts that sit at the well-scarred seats, When the moon is dark, and the gray sky meets With the dawn time light, and a chill wind blows?

Ghosts--well not ghosts, perhaps, but dreams-- Rather like wistful shades, that stand Waiting a look or an outstretched hand, To call them back where the morning gleams-- Dreams of the hopes we had, that died, Dreams of the vivid youth we sold; Dreams of a pot of rainbow gold-- Gold that we sought for, eager-eyed!

Dreams of the plans we made, that sleep With the lesson books on the dusty rack, Of the joyous years that will not come back-- That are drowned in the tears we have learned to weep. Ghosts did I call them! Sweet they are As a plant that grows in a desert place, Sweet as a dear remembered face-- Sweet as a pale, courageous star.

Where the sumac grows in a flaming wall, It stands, at the end of a little lane, And there do the children come again, Answering, still, the bell's shrill call, Just as we came, with their songs unsung, And their hopes all new, and their dreams dew kissed, Brave as the sun in a land of mist-- JUST AS WE CAME WHEN THE WORLD WAS YOUNG!

THE OLD SAILOR

I've crossed the bar at last, mates, My longest voyage is done; And I can sit here, peaceful, And watch th' setting sun A-smilin' kind of glad like Upon the waves so free. My longest voyage is done, mates, But oh, the heart of me, Is out where sea meets skyline! My longest voyage is done.... But--can I sit, in peace, mates, And watch the settin' sun?

For what's a peaceful life, mates, When every breeze so free, When every gale a-blowin', Brings messages to me? And is the sky so shinin', For all it's golden sun, To one who loves the sea, mates, And knows his voyage is done? And, can a year on land, mates, Match with one day--at sea? Ah, every wind a-singin' Brings memory to me!

I've crossed the bar at last, mates, My longest voyage is past, And I must watch the sunset, Must see it fade, at last. My steps are not so light, mates, As they were, years ago; And sometimes, when I'm tired, My head droops kind of low-- Yet, though I'm old and--weary, The waves that dance so free, Keep callin' to my soul, mates, And thrill the heart of me!

THE RIVER AND THE TREE

"You are white and tall and swaying," sang the river to the tree, "And your leaves are touched with silver--but you never smile on me; For your branches murmur love songs to the sun- kissed turquoise sky, And you seem so far above me that I always hurry by!"

"You are laughing in your shallows, you are somber in your deeps, And below your shining surface there's a heart that never sleeps; But all day you pass me, dancing, and at evening time you dream, And I didn't think you liked me," sang the birch- tree to the stream.

So they got a bit acquainted on a glowing summer day, And they found they liked each other (which is often times the way); And the river got so friendly, and it ran so very slow, That the birch-tree shone reflected in the water down below!

AUTUMN SONG

Let's go down the road together, you and I, Let's go down the road together, Through the vivid autumn weather; Let's go down the road together when the red leaves fly. Let's go searching, searching after Joy and mirth and love and laughter-- Let's go down the road together, you and I.

Let's go hunting for adventure, you and I, For the romance we are knowing Waits for us, alive and glowing, For the romance that has always passed us by. Let's have done with tears and sighing, What if summer-time IS dying? Let's go hunting for adventure, you and I.

Let's go down the road together, you and I-- And if you are frightened lest you Weary grow, my arms will rest you, As we take the road together when the red leaves fly. Springtime is the time for mating? Ah, a deeper love is waiting Down the autumn road that calls us, you and I!

THE CITY-- TOWERS AND CANYONS, AND SLUMS, MAN BUILT....

AND SOULS, GOD BUILT!

SCARLET FLOWERS

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