Poems Teachers Ask For Volume I Part 20

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act that each to-morrow Finds us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like m.u.f.fled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle!

Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!

Let the dead Past bury its dead!

Act, act in the living Present!

Heart within, and G.o.d o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and s.h.i.+pwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait.

_Henry W. Longfellow._

Johnny's Hist'ry Lesson

I think, of all the things at school A boy has got to do, That studyin' hist'ry, as a rule, Is worst of all, don't you?

Of dates there are an awful sight, An' though I study day an' night, There's only one I've got just right-- That's fourteen ninety-two.

Columbus crossed the Delaware In fourteen ninety-two; We whipped the British, fair an' square, In fourteen ninety-two.

At Concord an' at Lexington.

We kept the redcoats on the run, While the band played Johnny Get Your Gun, In fourteen ninety-two.

Pat Henry, with his dyin' breath-- In fourteen ninety-two-- Said, "Gimme liberty or death!"

In fourteen ninety-two.

An' Barbara Frietchie, so 'tis said, Cried, "Shoot if you must this old, gray head, But I'd rather 'twould be your own instead!"

In fourteen ninety-two.

The Pilgrims came to Plymouth Rock In fourteen ninety-two, An' the Indians standin' on the dock Asked, "What are you goin' to do?"

An' they said, "We seek your harbor drear That our children's children's children dear May boast that their forefathers landed here In fourteen ninety-two."

Miss Pocahontas saved the life-- In fourteen ninety-two-- Of John Smith, an' became his wife In fourteen ninety-two.

An' the Smith tribe started then an' there, An' now there are John Smiths ev'rywhere, But they didn't have any Smiths to spare In fourteen ninety-two.

Kentucky was settled by Daniel Boone In fourteen ninety-two, An' I think the cow jumped over the moon In fourteen ninety-two.

Ben Franklin flew his kite so high He drew the lightnin' from the sky, An' Was.h.i.+ngton couldn't tell a lie, In fourteen ninety-two.

_Nixon Waterman._

Riding on the Rail

Singing through the forests, rattling over ridges, Shooting under arches, rumbling over bridges, Whizzing through the mountains, buzzing o'er the vale,-- Bless me! this is pleasant, riding on the rail!

Men of different stations in the eye of Fame, Here are very quickly coming to the same; High and lowly people, birds of every feather, On a common level, traveling together!

Gentlemen in shorts, blooming very tall; Gentlemen at large, talking very small; Gentlemen in tights, with a loosish mien; Gentlemen in gray, looking very green!

Gentlemen quite old, asking for the news; Gentlemen in black, with a fit of blues; Gentlemen in claret, sober as a vicar; Gentlemen in tweed, dreadfully in liquor!

Stranger on the right looking very sunny, Obviously reading something very funny.

Now the smiles are thicker--wonder what they mean?

Faith, he's got the Knickerbocker Magazine!

Stranger on the left, closing up his peepers; Now he snores again, like the Seven Sleepers; At his feet a volume gives the explanation, How the man grew stupid from "a.s.sociation"!

Ancient maiden lady anxiously remarks That there must be peril 'mong so many sparks; Roguish-looking fellow, turning to the stranger, Says 'tis his opinion _she_ is out of danger!

Woman with her baby, sitting _vis a vis_; Baby keeps a-squalling, woman looks at me; Asks about the distance--says 'tis tiresome talking, Noises of the cars are so very shocking!

Market woman, careful of the precious casket, Knowing eggs are eggs, tightly holds her basket; Feeling that a smash, if it came, would surely Send her eggs to pot rather prematurely.

Singing through the forests, rattling over ridges, Shooting under arches, rumbling over bridges, Whizzing through the mountains, buzzing o'er the vale,-- Bless me! this is pleasant, riding on the rail!

_J.G. Saxe._

The Building of the s.h.i.+p

EXTRACT

Thou, too, sail on, O s.h.i.+p of State!

Sail on, O Union, strong and great!

Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate!

We know what Master laid thy keel, What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, What anvils rang, what hammers beat, In what a forge and what a heat Were shaped the anchors of thy hope!

Fear not each sudden sound and shock, 'Tis of the wave and not the rock; 'Tis but the flapping of the sail, And not a rent made by the gale!

In spite of rock and tempest's roar, In spite of false lights on the sh.o.r.e, Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea!

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee, Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, Our faith truiumphant o'er our fears, Are all with thee,--are all with thee!

_H.W. Longfellow._