A Child’s Thought
Softly fell the twilight;
In the glowing west
Purple splendors faded;
Birds had gone to rest;
All the winds were sleeping;
One lone whip-poor-will
Made the silence deeper,
Calling from the hill.
Silently, serenely,
From his mother’s knee,
In the gathering darkness,
Still as still could be,
A young child watched the shadows;
Saw the stars come out;
Saw the weird bats flitting
Stealthily about;
Saw across the river
How the furnace glow,
Like a fiery pennant,
Wavered to and fro;
Saw the tall trees standing
Black against the sky,
And the moon’s pale crescent
Swinging far and high.
Deeper grew the darkness;
Darker grew his eyes
As he gazed around him,
In a still surprise.
Then intently listening,
“What is this I hear
All the time, dear mother,
Sounding in my ear?”
“I hear nothing,” said she,
“Earth is hushed and still.”
But he hearkened, hearkened,
With an eager will,
Till at length a quick smile
O’er the child-face broke,
And a kindling lustre
In his dark eyes woke.
“Listen, listen, mother!
For I hear the sound
Of the wheels, the great wheels
That move the world around!”
Oh, ears earth has dulled not!
In your purer sphere,
Strains from ours withholden
Are you wise to hear?