Poems (Crandall)/Dreaming and Doing
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 seemThat 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.