Poems (Chitwood)/The Child Teacher
THE CHILD TEACHER.
As a small spear of steel may turn asideThe mighty thunderbolt, so, oft a wordMay change the whole strong current of a life.And I remember of a little child O'er whom the soft hues of the summer daysHad sweetly brightened but few times, and thenThe tiny feet grew weary of the way;Although for her it had been fair and soft,With dewy mosses and sweet flowers; for sheWas the heart-treasure of a man for whomThe seals of gold were ever loosened. Soft,Soft was the pillow and the couch of down;And daintily around the slight fair formThe silken robes were folded; and the lightCame dimly to the half closed eyes, and notA sound of discord floated through the room.Yet, when the shining angels have entwinedAffection's shreds around a human heart,The arms of earth-love must unclasp their hold;And so the soft light faded from her eyes,—The little form grew less; and when the handsWere raised, they fell, like snow-flakes, softly back.The strong man trembled when he saw her feetStepping so close the shadowy halls of death.But when her words were faintest whispers, heBent his tall form and heard her say, "The pathIs very beautiful that winds alongUnto the golden pathway of the sky:E'en now a light streams o'er the gates of death,—'Tis but a moment's darkness,—and there standsA gentle angel that will let me in."Then stood he still, that proud, stern-hearted man;And saw his little child, who, in her life,Trembled in terror when the winds of nightHowled by, pass calmly thro' the dark clasped gates Of death, with the bright shining star of FaithBeaming above her, calm and radiantly.Like an ice-wreath beneath the sun, his heart,So stern and cold, was melted; and he soughtThe simple child-faith, that could lead him on,Untrembling, through the valley of the shade.