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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE GOOD LITTLE SISTER, by PHOEBE CARY Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: That was a bitter winter Last Line: Who gave her more than they all! Subject(s): Sisters | |||
THAT was a bitter winter When Jenny was four years old And lived in a lonely farm-house -- Bitter, and long, and cold. The crops had been a failure -- In the barns there was room to spare; And Jenny's hard-working father Was full of anxious care. Neither his wife nor children Knew lack of fire or bread; They had whatever was needful, Were sheltered, and clothed, and fed. But the mother, alas! was ailing -- 'T was a struggle just to live; And they scarce had even hopeful words, Or cheerful smiles to give. A good, kind man was the father, He loved his girls and boys; But he whose hands are his riches Has little for gifts and toys. So when it drew near the season That makes the world so glad -- When Jenny knew 't was the time for gifts, Her childish heart was sad. For she thought, "I shall get no present When Christmas comes, I am sure;" Ah! the poor man's child learns early Just what it means to be poor. Yet still on the holy even As she sat by the hearth-stone bright, And her sister told good stories, Her heart grew almost light. For the hopeful skies of childhood Are never quite o'ercast; And she said, "Who knows but somehow, Something will come at last!" Lo, before she went to her pillow, Her pretty stockings were tied Safely together and slyly hung, Close to the chimney side. There was little room for hoping, One would say who had lived more years; Yet the faith of the child is wiser Sometimes than our doubts and fears. Jenny had a good little sister, Very big to her childish eyes, Who was womanly, sweet, and patient, And kind as she was wise. And she had thought of this Christmas, And the little it could bring, Ever since the crops were half destroyed By the freshet in the spring. So the sweetest nuts of the autumn She had safely hidden away; And the ripest and reddest apples Hoarded for many a day. And last she mixed some seed-cakes (Jenny was sleeping then), And moulded them grotesquely, Like birds, and beasts, and men. Then she slipped them into the stockings, And smiled to think about The joyful wonder of her pet, When she found and poured them out. And you couldn't have seen next morning A gladder child in the land Than that humble farmer's daughter, With her simple gifts in her hand. And the loving sister? ah! you know How blessed 't is to give; And they who think of others most Are the happiest folks that live! She had done what she could, my children, To brighten that Christmas Day; And whether her heart or Jenny's Was lightest, it is hard to say. And this, if you have but little, Is what I would say to you: Make all you can of that little -- Do all the good you can do. And though your gifts may be humble, Let no little child, I pray, Find only an empty stocking On the morn of the Christmas Day! 'T is years and years since that sister Went to dwell with the just; And over her body the roses Blossom and turn to dust. And Jenny's a happy woman, With wealth enough and to spare; And every year her lap is filled With presents fine and rare. But whenever she thanks the givers For favors great and small, She thinks of the good little sister Who gave her more than they all! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HYMN FOR LANIE POO by AMIRI BARAKA CALMING KALI by LUCILLE CLIFTON FAR MEMORY: 1. CONVENT by LUCILLE CLIFTON FAR MEMORY: 4. TRYING TO UNDERSTAND THIS LIFE by LUCILLE CLIFTON FAR MEMORY: 6. KARMA by LUCILLE CLIFTON MY SISTER, THE QUEEN by EDWARD FIELD A LEGEND OF THE NORTHLAND by PHOEBE CARY |
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