Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry. 1904.
Poems of Home: V. The HomeIf we knew
May Riley Smith (1842?1927)I
That await us on the road;
If our lips could taste the wormwood,
If our backs could feel the load;
Would we waste to-day in wishing
For a time that ne’er may be?
Would we wait in such impatience
For our ships to come from sea?
Pressed against the window-pane
Would be cold and stiff to-morrow,—
Never trouble us again;
Would the bright eyes of our darling
Catch the frown upon our brow?
Would the print of baby fingers
Vex us then as they do now?
How they point our memories back
To the hasty words and actions
Strewn along the backward track!
How those little hands remind us,
As in snowy grace they lie,
Not to scatter thorns, but roses,
For the reaping by and by.
Till the sweet-voiced birds have flown;
Strange, that we should slight the violets
Till the lovely flowers are gone;
Strange, that summer skies and sunshine
Never seem one half so fair
As when winter’s snowy pinions
Shake the white down in the air.
None but God can roll away
Never blossomed in such beauty
As adorns the mouth to-day;
And sweet words that freight our memory
With their beautiful perfume
Come to us in sweeter accents
Through the portals of the tomb.
Lying all around our path;
Let us keep the wheat and roses,
Casting out the thorns and chaff;
Let us find our sweetest comfort
In the blessings of to-day,
With a patient hand removing
All the briers from the way.