XX.
The brook’s
rest
Is
rest indeed;
The brook’s
quest
Is
daily need.
Thoughts of to-morrow
They bring no sorrow;
And so it babbles away,
And does the work of to-day.
XXI.
The brook knows the joy
Down in the heart of a boy,
And the swallow kens the whirl
Up in the head of a girl.
XXII.
How many a psalm is heard
From yon rejoicing bird,
That finds its daily food
And feels that God is good!
That little life’s employ
Is toil and song and joy.
Hast music in thy heart,
O toiler day by day,
Along life’s rugged
way?
Then what thou hast thou art.
XXIII.
True, Good, and Beautiful!
A perfect line
Of love and sainthood full—
And it is thine.
XXIV.
Thou doest well, dear friend,
Thy labor is not lost.
As notes in music blend,
So here Affection’s
host.
Their names thy book within,
Their thoughts of love
and truth,
Are worth the cost to win—
First trophies of thy
youth.
This little Album thine
Suggests to Book Divine—
The Book of Life, God’s
own.
What names are written
there!
What names are there unknown!
Hast thou no thought
or care?
I do thee wrong to ask—
God speed the nobler task
Until thy labor prove
Indeed a work of love!
XXV.
True friends
Are through friends
To the next world—
That unvexed world.
What will friends be good
for
When the witness is needless
they stood for?
XXVI.
Wouldst have another gem
In Friendship’s diadem?
Then take this name of mine;
Thy light will make it shine.
XXVII.
Thou comest beauty-laden,
Thou sprightly little maiden,
And dancing everywhere
Like sunbeams in the air;
And for thy cheery laugh
Here is my autograph.
XXVIII.
Something for nothing?
No!
A false device.
For all things here below
We pay the price.
For even grace we pay,
Which is so free;
And I have earned to-day
A smile from thee.