THE OPTIMIST
Who would have the sky any color but blue,
Or the grass any color but green?
Or the flowers that bloom the summer through
Of other color or sheen?
How the sunshine gladdens the human heart—
How the sound of the falling rain
Will cause the tender tears to start,
And free the soul from pain.
Oh, this old world is a great old place!
And I love each season’s change,
The river, the brook of purling grace,
The valley, the mountain range.
And when I am called to quit this life,
My feet will not spurn the sod,
Though I leave this world with its beauty rife,—
There’s a glorious one with God!
One other poem of Mrs. Hammond’s I will give that is beautiful alike in feeling and treatment.
TO MY NEIGHBOR BOY
When sweet Aurora lifts her veil,
And floods the world with rosy light,
When morning stars, grown dim and pale,
Proclaim the passing of the night—
With waking bird and opening flower,
I greet with joy the new-born day—
For oft at this exquisite hour,
I hear a strange new roundelay.
