Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. (1878–1962). Anthology of Massachusetts Poets. 1922.

Unfading Pictures

HOW many are the scenes he limned,

With artist strokes, clear-cut and free—

Our Dickens; time shall not efface

Their charm, and they will ever grace

The halls of memory.

Oft and again we turn to them,

To contemplate in pleased review;

And like some picture on the screen

Comes now to mind a favorite scene

His master-pencil drew:—

Upon a sofa, stretched in sleep,

I see a small lad, spent and worn,

And by the window, stern and grim,

A silent figure watching him,

So dusty, ragged, torn.

Ah, now she rises from behind

The round green fan beside her chair;

“Poor fellow!” croons—and pity lends

Her voice new softness—and she bends

And brushes back his hair.

Then in his sleep he softly stirs.

Was that a dream, these murmured words?

He wakes! There by the casement sat

Miss Trotwood still; close by, her cat

And her canary birds.

The peaceful calm of that quaint room,

Its marks of comfort everywhere—

Old china and mahogany

And blowing in, fresh from the sea,

The perfume-laden air.

Poor little pilgrim so bereft,

So weary at his journey’s end!

What joy must then have filled his soul

To reach at last such happy goal—

To find—oh, such a friend!…

And then night came, and from his bed

He saw the sea, moonlit and bright,

And dreamed there came, to bless her son,

His mother, with her little one,

Adown that path of light.

Ah, greater blessing I’d not crave,

When my life’s pilgrimage is o’er,

Than such repose, content, and love;

Some shining path that leads above

To dear ones gone before!