Poems Teachers Ask For Volume II Part 28

Three hundred grateful voices rise In praise to G.o.d that He Hath saved them from the fearful fire, And from the engulfing sea.

But where is he, that helmsman bold?

The captain saw him reel, His nerveless hands released their task, He sank beside the wheel.

The wave received his lifeless corse, Blackened with smoke and fire.

G.o.d rest him! Never hero had A n.o.bler funeral pyre!

_Horatio Alger, Jr._

Piller Fights

Piller fights is fun, I tell you; There isn't anything I'd rather do Than get a big piller and hold it tight, Stand up in bed and then just fight.

Us boys allers have our piller fights And the best night of all is Pa's lodge night.

Soon as ever he goes, we say "Good night,"

Then go right upstairs for a piller fight.

Sometimes maybe Ma comes to the stairs And hollers up, "Boys, have you said your prayers?"

And then George will holler "Yes, Mamma," for he always has; Good deal of preacher about George, Pa says.

Ma says "Pleasant dreams," and shuts the door; If she's a-listenin' both of us snore, But as soon as ever she goes we light a light And pitch right into our piller fight.

We play that the bed is Bunker Hill And George is Americans, so he stands still.

But I am the British, so I must hit As hard as ever I can to make him git.

We played Buena Vista one night-- Tell you, that was an awful hard fight!

Held up our pillers like they was a flag, An' hollered, "Little more grape-juice, Captain Bragg!"

That was the night that George hit the nail-- You just ought to have seen those feathers sail!

I was covered as white as flour, Me and him picked them up for 'most an hour; Next day when our ma saw that there mess She was pretty mad, you better guess;

And she told our pa, and he just said, "Come right on out to this here shed."

Tell you, he whipped us till we were sore And made us both promise to do it no more.

That was a long time ago, and now lodge nights Or when Pa's away we have piller fights, But in Buena Vista George is bound To see there aren't any nails anywhere 'round.

Piller fights is fun, I tell you; There isn't anything I'd rather do Than get a big piller and hold it tight, Stand up in bed, and then just fight.

_D.A. Ellsworth._

Little Bateese

You bad leetle boy, not moche you care How busy you're kipin' your poor gran'pere Tryin' to stop you ev'ry day Chasin' de hen aroun' de hay.

W'y don't you geev' dem a chance to lay!

Leetle Bateese!

Off on de fiel' you foller de plough, Den we'en you're tire, you scare de cow, Sickin' de dog till dey jamp de wall So de milk ain't good for not'ing at all, An' you're only five an' a half this fall-- Leetle Bateese!

Too sleepy for sayin' de prayer tonight?

Never min', I s'pose it'll be all right; Say dem to-morrow--ah! dere he go!

Fas' asleep in a minute or so-- An' he'll stay lak dat till the rooster crow-- Leetle Bateese.

Den wake up right away, toute suite, Lookin' for somethin' more to eat, Makin' me t'ink of dem long-lag crane, Soon as they swaller, dey start again; I wonder your stomach don't get no pain, Leetle Bateese.

But see heem now lyin' dere in bed, Look at de arm onderneat' hees head; If he grow lak dat till he's twenty year, I bet he'll be stronger than Louis Cyr And beat de voyageurs leevin' here-- Leetle Bateese.

Jus' feel de muscle along hees back,-- Won't geev' heem moche bodder for carry pack On de long portage, any size canoe; Dere's not many t'ings dat boy won't do, For he's got double-joint on hees body too-- Leetle Bateese.

But leetle Bateese! please don't forget We rader you're stayin' de small boy yet.

So chase de chicken and mak' dem scare, An' do w'at you lak wit' your ole gran'pere, For w'en you're beeg feller he won't be dere-- Leetle Bateese!

_W.H. Drummond._

Conscience and Future Judgment

I sat alone with my conscience, In a place where time had ceased, And we talked of my former living In the land where the years increased; And I felt I should have to answer The question it might put to me, And to face the question and answer Throughout an eternity.

The ghosts of forgotten actions Came floating before my sight, And things that I thought had perished Were alive with a terrible might; And the vision of life's dark record Was an awful thing to face-- Alone with my conscience sitting In that solemnly silent place.

And I thought of a far-away warning, Of a sorrow that was to be mine, In a land that then was the future, But now is the present time; And I thought of my former thinking Of the judgment day to be; But sitting alone with my conscience Seemed judgment enough for me.

And I wondered if there was a future To this land beyond the grave; But no one gave me an answer And no one came to save.

Then I felt that the future was present, And the present would never go by, For it was but the thought of a future Become an eternity.

Then I woke from my timely dreaming, And the vision pa.s.sed away; And I knew the far-away warning Was a warning of yesterday.

And I pray that I may not forget it In this land before the grave, That I may not cry out in the future, And no one come to save.

I have learned a solemn lesson Which I ought to have known before, And which, though I learned it dreaming, I hope to forget no more.

So I sit alone with my conscience In the place where the years increase, And I try to fathom the future, In the land where time shall cease.

And I know of the future judgment, How dreadful soe'er it be, That to sit alone with my conscience Will be judgment enough for me.

Dandelion