Life’s Song by Mae Gordon Litchfield

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · May 2, 1907

Life’s Song

By Mae Gordon Litchfield

MAE GORDON LITCHFIELD

The master is very patient, And over and over again To the mocking-bird he whistles The notes of the same refrain.

But when the sweet bird-carols Break forth in joyous song, There are notes of the meadow-lark in it, That she sings when the days are long.

There’s a bobolink’s lilting lyre When the apple blossoms are sweet, There’s a strain the yellowbird warbles At the time of the ripening wheat.

There’s the tinkling fall of the water Rippling along the ground; So the music is only a medley, A medley of beautiful sound.

Then the room is shrouded in darkness, The glorious sunlight’s gold Is shut away from his vision; The soft, white mists that rolled Each morning above the meadows, The sound of the brooklet’s fall, The call of the happy wild birds — Ah, how he misses them all!

How lonely he is in the darkness! But he hears the beautiful strain Of the one song over and over; He tries it again and again, Until at last he has learned it, Alone in the darkness there, And ever after can sing it Whether skies are dark or fair.

Ah, heart, has the patient Master, Who would teach thee a wondrous song, Shrouded thy life in darkness, All other sweet sounds withdrawn? O listen, then, to the music Till the song fills all thy soul, Then life and lips shall sing it While the ceaseless ages roll.

East Burke, Vt.