Two girls I know--Jeannette and Jo,
And one is always moping;
The other lassie, come what may,
Is ever bravely hoping.
Beauty of face and girlish grace
Are theirs, for joy or sorrow;
Jeannette takes brightly every day,
And Jo dreads each to-morrow.
One early morn they watched the dawn--
I saw them stand together;
Their whole day’s sport, ’twas very plain,
Depended on the weather.
“‘Twill storm!” cried Jo. Jeannette spoke low:
“Yes, but ’twill soon be over.”
And, as she spoke, the sudden shower
Came, beating down the clover.
“I told you so!” cried angry Jo:
“It always is a-raining!”
Then hid her face in dire despair,
Lamenting and complaining.
But sweet Jeannette, quite hopeful yet,--
I tell it to her honor,--
Looked up and waited till the sun
Came streaming in upon her.
The broken clouds sailed off in crowds,
Across a sea of glory.
Jeannette and Jo ran, laughing, in--
Which ends my simple story.
Joy is divine. Come storm, come shine,
The hopeful are the gladdest;
And doubt and dread, children, believe
Of all things are the saddest.
In morning’s light, let youth be bright;
Take in the sunshine tender;
Then, at the close, shall life’s decline
Be full of sunset splendor.
And ye who fret, try, like Jeannette,
To shun all weak complaining;
And not, like Jo, cry out too soon--
“It always is a-raining!”
--MARY MAPES DODGE.
* * * * *
A kindly act is a kernel sown,
That will grow to a goodly tree,
Shedding its fruit when time has flown,
Down the gulf of eternity.