Classic Poem

“T HE world is even as we take it,
And life, dear child, is what we make it.”

Thus spoke a grandame, bent with care,
To little Mabel, flushed and fair.

But Mabel took no heed that day,
Of what she heard her grandame say.

Years after, when, no more a child,
Her path in life seemed dark and wild,

Back to her heart the memory came
Of that quaint utterance of the dame:

“The world, dear child, is as we take it,
And life, be sure, is what we make it.”

She cleared her brow: and smiling, thought,
“'T is even as the good soul taught!

“And half my woes thus quickly cured,
The other half may be endured.”

No more her heart its shadow wore;
She grew a little child once more.

A little child in love and trust,
She took the world,—as we, too, must,—

In happy mood; and lo! it grew
Brighter and brighter to her view!

She made of life—as we, too, should—
A joy; and lo! all things were good!