Page:Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier (1895).djvu/441

Rh It came to pass, our little lass, With flattened face against the glass, And eyes in which the tender dew Of pity shone, stood gazing through The narrow space her rosy lips Had melted from the frost’s eclipse: “Oh, see,” she cried, “the poor blue-jays! What is it that the black crow says? The squirrel lifts his little legs Because he has no hands, and begs; He ’s asking for my nuts, I know: May I not feed them on the snow?”

Half lost within her boots, her head Warm-sheltered in her hood of red, Her plaid skirt close about her drawn, She floundered down the wintry lawn; Now struggling through the misty veil Blown round her by the shrieking gale; Now sinking in a drift so low Her scarlet hood could scarcely show Its dash of color on the snow.

She dropped for bird and beast forlorn Her little store of nuts and corn, And thus her timid guests bespoke: “Come, squirrel, from your hollow oak,— Come, black old crow,—come, poor blue-jay, Before your supper ’s blown away! Don’t be afraid, we all are good; And I ’m mamma's Red Riding-Hood!”

O Thou whose care is over all, Who heedest even the sparrow’s fall, Keep in the little maiden’s breast The pity which is now its guest! Let not her cultured years make less The childhood charm of tenderness, But let her feel as well as know, Nor harder with her polish grow! Unmoved by sentimental grief That wails along some printed leaf, But prompt with kindly word and deed To own the claims of all who need, Let the grown woman’s self make good The promise of Red Riding-Hood!

and inadequate the shadow-play
 * Of gain and loss, of waking and of dream,
 * Against life’s solemn background needs must seem

At this late hour. Yet, not unthankfully, I call to mind the fountains by the way, The breath of flowers, the bird-song on the spray, Dear friends, sweet human loves, the joy of giving And of receiving, the great boon of living
 * In grand historic years when Liberty

Had need of word and work, quick sympathies For all who fail and suffer, song’s relief, Nature’s uncloying loveliness; and chief,
 * The kind restraining hand of Providence,
 * The inward witness, the assuring sense

Of an Eternal Good which overlies The sorrow of the world, Love which outlives