To Allie

There’s an ancient saying, homely and wise
     (Those words are apt to tally),
That, had I the time to hint up its rhyme,
     I’d sing for your dancing, Allie!
While the flowers of mirth strike root in the earth,
     And flourish tender and sappy,
Herein is the stuff that makes them tough:
     “Be good, and you’ll be happy.”

The waves of life have their up and down,
     White crest and sombre valley,
And if one half is sparkle and laugh,
     The other is shadowed, Allie.
But though the gales may tug at your sails,
     And the big seas grow white-cappy,
Truth’s gold in the skiff will hold her stiff:
     “Be good, and you’ll be happy.”

I see not Duty a master grim
     Over convict thoughts in their galley,
But a maiden pure, with smile demure,
     Saying, “Walk with me, dear Allie!”
If the heart is right, it may be light
     As a Scotchman’s o’er his “nappy;”
The purest brook has the merriest look:
     “Be good, and you’ll be happy.”

And by and by, in your afternoon,
     When the evening shadows rally,
If your joyous youth have kept its truth,
     ‘Twill live in your bosom, Allie.
Pure hearts unfold, but never grow old,—
     Like a great oak, green and sappy,—
The changing years have their smiles and tears,
     But with all the good are happy.