Page:Near nature's heart; a volume of verse (IA nearnaturesheart00jack).pdf/93

 Ah, 'tis mountain top views that enrich the dull earth, Where high hopes and deeds have divinest birth; Where Abram and Moses and prophets of old The evil and good, yea the best foretold. And men even now must mount the high hills To inspire them beneath with conquering wills.

Here the church up-rose and "the old ship of State," Here angels meet men that listen and wait; The King from his throne will deign to come down To acclaim his own, and with glory crown The soul sincere, who cries from his heart For some new song—some high born art.

At last the dust and the din of earth's way Will shine in rapture of our toiling day; The narrow path trod, the rugged way too, Will glow with a beauty we never knew, In the coming new Morn on the Mountain fair, Translated with Christ in his glorified air.

ONE AGED JOHN SMITH AND HIS YOUTHFUL CONFESSIONS

Your smiles and love you freely lend— How old are you, my jolly friend? "Just seventy-three; but pray don't tell; A widower I, out for a spell. The pretty girls, I love them all; They bounce my heart like a rubber ball; One moment I rise and the next I fall— I cannot help it."

"I loved my wife who's dead and gone, In the distant days my paragon— She used to say, 'O quit your looking,' But in spite of her, my neck kept crooking Around to feast upon the lovely face, The perfect figure full of grace— It never seemed to me so base— I told my wife, sir; I couldn't help it."

"If God himself told me to quit it, I'd say, O slay me! or else permit it. The smiling face, the enchanting eye, The rosy cheek of the maiden shy— They grip me, sir, with hooks of steel; My eyes run fast; my brain will reel, And my heart will feel— Frankly, sir, I cannot help it."