Poems (Larcom)/The Schoolmistress
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS.
"HOW are you so cheerful, Gentle Edith Lane! Be it bright or cloudy, Fall of dew or rain, In that lonely schoolhouse, Patiently you stay, Teaching simple children, All the livelong day."
"Teaching simple children? I am simple, too: So we learn together Lessons plain as true, From this thumb-worn Bible, Full of love's best lore; Or, to read another, Just unlatch the door.
"Can I but be cheerful While I bid them look, Through the sunny pages Of each opening book?—Showing tracks of angels, On the footworn sod; Listening to the music Nature makes to God."
"Have you then no sorrow, Smiling Edith Lane? Where the barberry's coral Rattles on the pane, Where, in endless yellow, Autumn flowers I see, Working for a living Were a woe to me."
"Sorrow! I—a woman, And in years not young? Of the common chalice, Drops are on my tongue. What of that? No whisper To my heart is lost, From the barberry-clusters, Sweetened by the frost;
"From the rooted sunshine,— Golden-rod in bloom, Lighting up the hillsides, For November's gloom. Shall I blot with weeping Nature's joy and grace? Rather be her gladness Mirrored in my face.
"'Working for a living'? May no worse befall! Love is always busy; God works, over all. Life is worth the earning, For its daily cheer, Shared with those who love me, In yon cottage dear.
"If you can, fair lady, Go and be a drone! Leave me with the children, Dear as if my own. Leave me to the humming Of my little hive, Glad to earn a living, Glad to be alive!"