THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH 239 THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH Under a spreading chestnut-tree His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His brow is wet with honest sweat, And looks the whole world in the face, Week in, week out, from morn till night. You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, And children coming home from school They love to see the flaming forge, And catch the burning sparks that fly He goes on Sunday to the church, He hears the parson pray and preach. Singing in the village choir, And it makes his heart rejoice. It sounds to him like her mother's voice, He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies; And with his hard rough hand, he wipes Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing, Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, SUGGESTIVE EXERCISES 1. What are you made to see clearly in the first two stanzas? 2. What beautiful sounds are mentioned? 3. What beautiful sights? 4. How many of the smith's emotions does the poet describe? 5. Where is pathos introduced? 6. Where are things usually regarded as opposite characteristics shown to be closely allied? 7. Mention as many of the smith's characteristics as you can. 8. Are any of these the result of inference alone? 9. What are we shown that makes up the smith's life? 10. How many maxims that go to make up a rule for right living are we given? 11. Just what lesson was the poet taught by the smith? REFERENCES LONGFELLOW: From My Arm Chair. Keramos. WHITTIER: Cobbler Keezar's Vision. Among the Hills. W VIRTUE GEORGE HERBERT HEN Shakespeare was at the height of his literary powers, there lived and wrote a poet whose life was spirit-filled. He was a strict churchman, a devout follower of the lowly Nazarene, and a writer whose songs have inspired all well-doers to rise heavenward on the wings of adoration. His life rang true; and his genuine sincerity is stamped on all he wrote. His poetry sounds forth two great strains. The major strain is the immortality of the soul. The minor strain is the mortality of all things earthly. Henry Morley, the great English writer and critic says of him, "When the mind is fastened to George Herbert's verse we may think we've an angel by the wings." The following poem contains the essence of Herbert's teaching and is the briefest, tenderest, simplest, truest interpretation of the doctrine of the immortality of the soul yet found in English song and story. VIRTUE Sweet Day, so cool, so calm, so bright, Sweet Rose, whose hue, angry and brave, And thou must die. Sweet Spring, full of sweet days and roses, Only a sweet and virtuous soul, SUGGESTIVE EXERCISES 1. What tells of the passing nature of the day? 2. Why mention "so cool, so calm, so bright"? 3. Explain "bridal of the earth and sky." 4. Explain "The dew shall weep thy fall to-night." 5. Why "angry and brave" hue? 6. How does it bid the rash gazer wipe his eye? 7. To what is spring compared? 8. Explain "My music shows ye have your closes." 9. What in time besides Day and Spring must pass away? 10. What in nature besides the rose must decay? 11. What alone outlasts time and nature? 12. Then what should be the greatest concern of any person? REFERENCES KINGSLEY: The Farewell. JOHNSON: The Noble Nature. MACKAY: Song of Life. RALEIGH: The Lye. HOOPER: Duty. DYER: Contentment. LANIER: The Tournament. SHAKESPEARE: Portia's Court-room Speech. TH THE VOYAGE CAROLINE ATHERTON MASON HE author of this poem spent many hours by the seashore where she loved to watch the laden ships from all lands entering the harbor and to see them depart with other merchandise for the markets of the world. In fancy, the scene widened until she seemed to see "a thousand fleets from every zone out upon a thousand seas," and the vision became to her a vast symbol of life in which every soul plays its part, "not alone" but in its proper relation to every other soul. This poem is a vision which breaks in upon our souls like the glory of the sunrise. It needs no forerunner. It introduces itself, explains itself, and gently but effectively reveals itself with wonderful power to the soul that aspires to realize higher meanings of life. To every reader who rises above petty selfishness, and who reaches the point where he is genuinely glad at heart and not jealous when others succeed, this poem is a psalm of contentment. THE VOYAGE Whichever way the wind doth blow, Then blow it east or blow it west, My little craft sails not alone: |