Miracle, and Other Poems

<h2 id="id00350" style="margin-top: 4em">THE WHISTLER</h2> <p id="id00351">Throughout the sunny day he whistled on his way—<br/> Oh high and low, and gay and sweet,<br/> The melody rang down the street,<br/> Till all the weary, old, and grey,<br/> Smiled at their work, or stopped to say,<br/> "Now God be thanked that youth is fair,<br/> And light of heart, and free from care."<br/></p> <p id="id00352">What time the wind blew high, he whistled and went by—<br/> Then clarion clear on every side<br/> The song was scattered far and wide;<br/> Like birds above a storm that fly<br/> The silver notes soared to the sky,<br/> "O soul, whose courage does not fail<br/> But with a song can meet the gale."<br/></p> <p id="id00353">And when the rain fell fast, he whistled as he passed—<br/> A little tune the whole world knew,<br/> A song of love, of love most true;<br/> On through the mist it came at last<br/> To one by sorrow overcast,<br/> "Dear Christ," she said, "by night and day<br/> They serve who praise, as well as pray."<br/></p> <p id="id00354">Though the great world was white, he whistled in the night—<br/> The sky was spangled all with gold,<br/> The bitter wind was keen and cold,<br/> Yet, gay musician, out of sight,<br/> You still put wintry thoughts to flight,<br/> For summer follows where you fare,<br/> 0 Whistler, so debonair.<br/></p> <p id="id00355">And when the fog hung grey, he whistled on his way—<br/> The little children in his train<br/> With rosy lips caught up the strain.<br/> Then I, to hear what he might say,<br/> Followed with them, that sombre day.<br/> "Is it for joy of life," quoth I,<br/> "Good sir, you go awhistling by?"<br/> He smiled, and sighed, and shook his head,<br/> "I cheer my own sad heart," he said.<br/></p> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />