Poems (Crandall)/Dreaming and Doing

by Rosa Neil Crandall

Dreaming and Doing

The poet sang of patience;
  So sweet seemed the song to me,
I vowed that never the hasty word
  Should my guarded lips set free.

But alas for human fraility,
  Alas for a vexing day;
Ere the shadows fell, the impatient word
  Had on mischief sped away.

But I knew a gentle woman,
  Who was patient all day long;
Whose smile was bright with a heavenly light,
  Whose life was one sweet song.

The queen of my early childhood
  With her crown of waving hair,
Lived out the dreams of a poet soul
  In a cadence of beauty rare.

Oh sweet, angelic spirit,
  We would humbly learn of you:
We love to dream our beautiful dreams,
  You lived to make them true.

I saw a wonderful picture
  Called home, so fair did it seem
That afar thro' all the country rang
  The fame of the artist's dream.

But I know a humble farmer
  Who chose him a modest bride,
And fashioned a home—a happy home,
  And what so e'er betide,

As years pass on and trials
  Come to them as to us all,
And life's small disappointments
  Like the leaves of Autumn fall;

No harsh word ever grieves her,
  The loved one by his side;
As tenderly he cares for her,
  As for his girlish bride.

Tho' the baby cry till midnight
  And breakfast too is late,
Tho' Johnnie has lost the hammer
  And Charlie has broken the gate,

His ways are always gentle,
  His words are always kind.
Small things indeed, that serve to show
  The man's most noble mind.

Admire the artist's genius,
  And the poet's praises sing;
But bow before the son of toil
  And hail this man—a king.

It is easy to plan but harder,
  We find it alas to do.
We love to dream our beautiful dreams,
  He lives to make them true.