A Song of Evening by Arthur W. Spaulding

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Mar 2, 1916

A Song of Evening

By Arthur W. Spaulding

ARTHUR W. SPAULDING

I’ve just a little work to do before the sun goes down, A little redding up of things before the master comes, A-perking of the children and a touch to cap and gown, A-brushing of the hearthstone where the kettle purrs and hums. And oh, and oh, ’tis joy to me To sift the crowding noises of the evening’s curtain-fall, A-harking and a-listing for the step that is to be, And then the rushing welcome, and the restful peace, and all!

The master in the wheat fields, afar and far away, And I with pots and needlework within our humble cot, A-bent on duty’s love-lit task, have toiled the tiring day; For pretty infants weight as well as light the lowly’s lot. But oh, and oh, each darling one, I’m far from wishing you agone, and bairnless wedders we; For sure you are the hours that link the morn to setting sun; You prison both our pairs of hands, but set our love-hearts free.

The cows are coming up the lane, the sheep bells tinkle soft, The green hills blacken in their rear, and all the fields grow dim; The sun’s bold banners crumple from their battlements aloft, And on the rugged cottage walls the leaping fire-flames limn. And oh, and oh, my heart’s delight! I hear the quickening footfalls of the master at the door! And what care I for drearful day and somber falling night? For I have clasped the love of life, and what should I have more?

The master sits at steaming board, and prays a grateful thanks; And then he rests before the fire, a child at either knee, And once he tells them wondrous tales, and once admires their pranks, And once he nestles them in bed, and once he looks at me. “And oh, and oh, my dear,” I cry, “This joy is like a pledge of heaven, that on our cot doth fall.” And reverent in his mood, saith he, “Betrow that you and I Await with that same joy of love the Master of us all.”