Will Carleton

“ If I had had less of a heart, sir, or home had contained what it craved.
For the time when a boy is in danger of walking a little bit wild,
Is when he's too young to be married—too old to be known as a child;
A bird in the lonely grass thickets, just out of the parent tree thrown,
Too large to be kept in the old nest—too small to have one of his own;
When, desolate 'mid his companions, his soul is a stake to be won;
'Tis then that the Devil stands ready to get a good chance to catch on!
Oh, yes! I'd a good enough home, sir, so far as the house was concerned ”

“ And Wife was 'most too much concerned to speak,
And even my old eyes had sprung a leak.
'Twas a moist time; and I remarked, "'Tis plain
We've come out of the rain into the rain."
I got so full of funeral, sitting there,
Then, when we once more sniffed the clean, live air,
It seemed a piece of good-luck all around,
To get away once more, alive and sound.
That's what they call a "tragedy;" where Death
Flies 'round till he himself gets out of breath;
And, with sword-slashes and cold poison filled,
All who amount to anything, get killed.
It's part of life ”

“ That I have never found these folks before!
Of course some news of it has come my way,
Like a faint echo on a drowsy day;
At home I "gave," whene'er by suffering grieved,
And called it "Charity," and felt relieved;
And thought that I was never undertasked,
If I bestowed when with due deference asked.
But no one finds the poorest poor, I doubt,
Unless he goes himself and hunts them out;
And when you get real suffering among,
Be thankful if your heart-strings are not wrung! ”

“ Images sad to the heart and the brain
Rise out of memories cozy and green.
Hustle them in, bustle them in,
Fetid with squalor, and reeking with gin,
Loaded with misery, folly, and sin—
Hustle them, bustle them, jostle them in!
Few are the sorrows so hopelessly drear
But they have sad representatives here;
Never a crime so complete and confessed
But has come hither for one night of rest.
Seeds that the thorns of diseases may bear
Float on the putrid and smoke-laden air;
Ghosts of destruction are haunting each breath—
Soft-stepping agents, commissioned by Death. ”

“ Three-fourths of this world's homestead for its part;
But lawyers are not needed to convince
That Water has been losing ever since.
The reason is not hard to understand:
For God's most knowing creatures live on land,
And, naturally, every chance they get,
Find some new means to keep them from the wet.
The farms their dykes have from the ocean won;
The ground men make to build their cities on;
The bridge that from the river shelters me;
The ships—great travelling bridges of the sea—
All are an effort of ambitious man
To make this world as solid as he can. ”

“ That farming's natural to the human race!
When God's poor pretty ones, 'mid summer's blaze,
Have lived 'mongst brick and mortar all their days,
Trying their best to blossom and not spoil,
Like house-plants kidnapped from their native soil,
It must be heaven to sit here in the sand,
And take old Mother Earth right by the hand!
To lie here, by no brick blocks overlooked,
And take a breath of air that hasn't been cooked! ”

“ Yet, 'tis the same restless story:
Even to fail here were glory!
Grand, to be part of this ocean
Of matter and mind and emotion!
Here flow the streams of endeavor,
Cityward trending forever.—
Wheat-stalks that tassel the field,
Harvests of opulent yield,
Grass-blades that fence with each other,
Flower-blossoms—sister and brother—
Roots that are sturdy and tender,
Stalks in your thrift and your splendor,
Mind that is fertile and daring,
Face that true beauty is wearing—
[Pg 17]
All that is strongest and fleetest,
All that are dainty and sweetest. ”

“ And I don't go 'round explaining things I do not understand;
But I know there's something treacherous in the working of the law,
When we get a dose of poison out of every breath we draw.
I have talked too much, good Preacher, and I hope you won't be vexed,
But I'm going to make a sermon with that white face for a text;
And I'll preach it, and I'll preach it, till I set the people wild
O'er the heartless, reckless grasping of the men who killed my child! ”

“ Pay my five cents, and go in with the rest;
Let me jot down with sly pen, but sincere,
What, in this garret, I see, smell, and hear.
Great, gloomy den! where, on close-clustered shelves,
Shelterless wretches can shelter themselves;
Pestilence-drugged is the murderous air,
Full of the breathings of want and despair!
Horrible place!—where The Crushed Race
Winces 'neath Poverty's dolefullest blight—
Bivouac of suffering, sin, and disgrace:
What can you look for, at five cents per night?
Hustle them in, jostle them in,
Many of nation, and divers of kin ”

“ Timorous lad with a sensitive face,
You have no record of crime and disgrace;
Weary old man with the snow-drifted hair,
Not by your fault are you suffering there,
Never a child of your cherishing nigh—
'Tis not for sin you so drearily die.
Pain, in all lands, smites with two hands—
Guilty and good may encounter the test;
Misery's cord is of different strands;
Sorrow may strike at the brightest and best.
Sympathy's tear, warm and sincere,
Cannot but glisten while lingering near.
Edge not away, sir, in horror of fear,
These are your brothers—this family here! ”

“ Oh, Home—restful home! theme of praise and of song!
Where the heart has its refuge, unfailing and strong;
Where the cares of the world sign a partial release,
And the soul can lie down to a sweet sleep of peace!
The mine whence we dig out affection's pure gold,
The fire where we warm our poor hearts when they're cold! ”

“ To think that Evil had so long a head!
I've seen more ingenuity displayed
In one crime, than 'twould take to learn a trade.
Such cute inventions Sin will take in charge:
Old Satan's patent-office must be large!
And yet, for all their craft, in time how brief
How many of these rascals come to grief!
For though within them cunning may abound,
The plain-clothed Truth is always standing round,
Or following rogues through every land and clime,
And gets them, if you'll only give him time. ”

“ Of one who lives a true-loved life,
Of one who sister has, or wife;
One who loves women for the best
That is in them, whose lips have pressed
Pure, genuine lips, whom women trust,
Whose heart is free from loathsome lust ”

“ How men will work, in home and foreign lands,
To get a lot of money in their hands;
How they will bar and bolt, by night and day,
To keep some one from stealing it away;
Then, when a fresh bait strikes their fancy's eye,
How easy 'tis to make them let it fly!
Lock up your cash in places howe'er strong,
You lose it when the right thief comes along. ”

“ Or among the fresh cool breezes that come sweeping from the sea;
But it's nothing less than murder when my darling's every breath
Chokes and strangles with the poison from that chimney swamp of death!
Oh, it's not enough those people own the very ground we tread,
And the shelter that we crouch in, and the tools that earn our bread ”

“ Soonest can mend from assistance within.
Warm them and feed them—they're beasts, even then;
Teach them and love them—they grow into men.
You who 'mid luxuries costly and grand
Decorate homes with munificent hand,
Use, in some measure, your exquisite arts
For the improvement of minds and of hearts.
Lilies must grow up from below,
Where the strong rootlets are twining about;
Goodness and honesty ever must flow
From the heart-centres—to blossom without. ”

“ Where do your earnings go?—
"A goodly part to the rulers that form the powers that be;
A modest part, if lucky, for my family and for me;
And all the rest for the splendors that fringe the river and sea."
[Voices.]
What did we cost? Bend ear;
What did we cost? Now hear.
Listen! the factory wall
Sends out its morning call.
Hear the machinery's din;
Look at the folks within.
Child with a poor, pale face;
Woman with hurried grace;
Man with the look half wise;
Girl with the handsome eyes.
How the long spindles whirl!
How the rich webs unfurl! ”

“ For I am an equestrian—
A very fair equestrian—
With bugle blast of melody and unassuming song;
And all the thrilling ecstacy of horsemanship I feel,
Although the nag I ride upon was bred of burnished steel.
But his impatience urges me to swifter gait than you,
And so I wish you pleasure, sir, and bid a kind adieu.
[Pg 156]
Good-morning, Mr. Racer, you've a trotter that is fine;
I never would disparage him, or say too much of mine;
Your horse is full of mettle, sir, and bravely draws his load;
It must be pure deliciousness to speed him on the road. ”

“ Their drooping eyelids, hard with grief or sin,
Wondering, as they gaze upon you so,
If you are not some one they used to know;
The ghosts you feel, that creep 'round, all the time,
Among these men who've shaken hands with crime ”

“ And yet folks die in garret, hut, and street,
Simply because there isn't enough to eat!
Oh, heavens! there runs a great big Norway rat,
Sleek as a banker, and almost as fat;
He daily breakfasts, dines, and sups, and thrives
On what would save a pair of human lives;
[Pg 63]
He rears a family with his own fat features,
On food we lock up from our fellow-creatures;
And human beings fall down by the way,
And die for want of food, this very day! ”

“ God bless the men and women of noble brain an' heart,
Who go down in the folk-swamps an' take the children's part—
Those hungry, cheery children that keep us in their debt,
An' never fail to give us more of pleasure than they get! ”

“ But I, sir, keep my carriage, too—
A very pleasant carriage, too—
Though it is not the easy one that your desire would fill;
It carries me in comfort over many a pleasant mile,
And all my best acquaintances are suited with its style.
'Tis with a blithe economy establishments are run,
With driver, footman, passenger, and horses—all in one!
Good-morning, fellow Wheelmen; here's a warm, fraternal hand,
As with a rush of victory we sweep across the land!
If some may be dissatisfied to view the way we ride,
We only wish their majesties could wander by our side! ”

“ Strains of the Bicycler's Song:
[THE SILENT WHEEL.]
Good-morning, good Pedestrian—I'm glad to see you out;
The day is full of healthfulness, the birds are all about;
There is a quiet breeziness in all the pleasant air—
I hope this happy exercise will drive away your care.
For I am a pedestrian—
A very good pedestrian—
And all the glowing benefit of walking I can share;
Although I tread the atmosphere, and do not touch the ground,
I greet you as a brother, sir, wherever you are bound. ”

“ Do not think these tears unmanly—they're the first ones I have shed!
But they kind o' beat and pounded 'gainst my aching heart and brain,
And they would not be let go of, and they gave me extra pain.
I am just a laboring man, sir—work for food and rags and sleep,
And I hardly know the meaning of the life I slave to keep;
But I know when times are cheery, or my heart is made of lead;
I know sorrow when I see it, and—I know my girl is dead!
[Pg 54]
No, she isn't much to look at—just a plainish bit of clay,
Of the sort of perished children that die 'round here every day ”

“ And taking the home up and down, sir, I'd more than an average part,
With one quite important exception—there wasn't any room for my heart.
The house couldn't have been any colder, with snow-drifts in every room!
The house needn't have been any darker to make a respectable tomb! ”

“ And with his hat perched on his close-sheared head,
And smoking a small white cigar, he said:
"Sirrh, would you kindly just enlighten me
As to where Gawge cut down the cherry-tree?"
Said I, "Young man, just please at once disgorge
The fool-idea of calling that man 'George;'
His body, mind, and soul were firmly set
Higher, no doubt, than you will ever get.
He isn't the man, though lying dead, 'tis true,
When friends are near, to be half-named by you. ”

“ For the same reason, the great drama of metropolitan existence falls most forcibly upon those just from the clear streams and green meadows of the country. Their impressions then are deeper, and their feelings more intense than if they were city born and bred. ”

“ And the whole region round here, high and low,
So full of wealth a few short months ago—
And men, to get their circumstances oiled—
Is now poor farm-land, pretty nearly spoiled!
The little town a mile away from here,
Where we sold eggs and butter many a year,
(And feared the neighbors' hens might over-lay,
And glut the market some sad Saturday) ,
From a few grown-up folks, a small child-crop,
A church, post-office, store, and blacksmith shop,
This village grew to be, within a year,
A town of fifteen thousand people clear. ”

“ There ain't a man in all that part will say I've done him wrong;
There ain't a man will claim but what I'm ordinary keen;
But when I plant myself in town, I grow exceedin' green.
An' any kind-expressioned man, who acts a civil part,
Can always find my soul to home, an' house-room in my heart. ”

“ With covers on, and rich-dressed folks inside,
And up on top a man to drive the team—
As fat as any cat brought up on cream
(Man and team both) , the driver dressed as gay
As if he meant to marry that same day,
Or wed his boss's daughter that same night
(Which some consider as the coachman's right,
And think it's understood, when he engages,
A daughter should be thrown in with his wages) ,
When even the horses, as so many do,
Wear jewelry that cost a farm or two,
You wonder in what tree-top grew the cash
To buy so much reality and trash! ”

“ To view all this muscle and brawn;
'Twas rather too much, I'm afraid,
Or seemed so, the minute 'twas gone.
And yet 'tis a study to see
The rage gladiatorial of Rome
And grim Spanish bull-baiting glee
Adopt an American home!
That blood-thirsty, murderous spite
Men loudly condemn—and possess! ”