AN OLD MAN.
Over yonder sleeps where the wooded slope Lays a smooth cheek down by its rim to cool.
I will look to see if this face of mine
Shall the tale confirm that the children tell ;
No silver tangles my unkempt beard,
And my strong white teeth gnaw a crust full well.
Now I peer out over the mossy rock.
See ! a beggar s rags flutter first in view; Then untended locks like a wild beast s mane,
And the shoulders bent. Childish eyes see true ! For the added "naught " of a beggar s year
Counts for ten, it seems, to the eyes that see Through the morning light. Ah, the school is in, - And the weary road stretches out for me.
Passing close again by the school-house door,
Sounds a blessed word that beguiles the way, As the teacher reads from the Holy Book
All the sweet old tale of the lad astray Of the Father s watch, of the welcome kiss.
He lifts his hat from his forehead bare, And the dusty lips murmur, " If I came
From the country far, would the Father care?"
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