He's very old, his music box is old and rusty, too,
And half the notes of it are harsh, and half of
them are slow;
One wonders if the coat he wears could ever have
been new--
And if the tune he plays was quite forgotten long
ago.
He finds a sunny place to stand, and lifts his bleary
eyes,
And smiles a bit--a toothless smile half touched,
perhaps, with fear;
And though he cannot see them he is looking at the
skies,
As if he prays, but silently, for hope and faith
and cheer.
The foreign women pass him by, their tarnished coins
held tight,
They toss their heads and will not hear his music's
wistful hum--
But through each alley way and street, like moths
that seek the light,
With eager eyes and laughing lips the little chil-
dren come.
He plays his ancient, shaky song, his mouth moves to
its sway,
He does not know the tune of it is old and out of
key;
For, through his eyes, a soul stares out that wanders
far away,
In some fair land of youth and love--some land
that used to be.
The little children cluster close, bareheaded, bare of
limb--
They hold their ragged frocks and dance, they do
not care--or know,
That they are like a garden place, a fragrant dream
to him,
Or that the tune he plays was quite forgotten long
ago.
"BE OF GOOD CHEER!"
Temptation came to me today,
And oh, I felt that I must stray
Down primrose paths, forgetting all....
The city's fevered, siren call
Spoke to my soul, its whispered cry
Said, "Live, for Youth, too soon, will die!"
So all alone, when work was done,
I sought the park. The setting sun
Had left a bit of warmth for me--
I found a bench beneath a tree,
And sat and thought.
My life is hard,
Sometimes my heart seems battle-scarred,
With longings keen, and bitter fears,
And want, and suffering, and tears.
Temptation spoke, and Youth spoke back;
The night seemed cold and grimly black,
And every light was like a star
That cleft the sky--they were so far,
So very far away! And I
Was lonely, there, beneath the sky....
There used to be a little farm
A tiny place, remote from harm;
There used to be a mother frail
And sweet, with hair as silver-pale
As the faint moon. She heard me say
The words when first I learned to pray....
Above me in the silent trees,
I heard the rustles of the breeze,
It sounded like her step, as light
As dreams across an endless night.
My mother--
Ah, the name so sweet,
Brought memories on noiseless feet,
And softly in the darkness, there,
I breathed my little childhood prayer....
Do prayers have answers? As I prayed
A Presence came, and gently laid
A Hand upon my arm. I knew
That Someone kind, and good, and true
Was very near. Upon my soul
A peace swept down, and left it whole.
I felt a calm steal over me,
The same that stilled the troubled sea
Where Jesus walked.
My fears were laid,
Temptation left me unafraid.
And as I smiled, there in the park,
A voice spoke through the fragrant dark.
"Be of good cheer!" the words rang out
Like music through the city's shout.
And all the lights that I could see
Were stars of home, agleam for me!