The Divided Burden

I saw a boy who towards his cottage homeA heavy burden bore. The way was steepAnd rocky, and his little loaded armStrain'd downward to its full extent, while wideThe other horizontally was thrown,As if to counterpoise the painful weightThat drew him towards the earth.A while he pausedAnd set his burden down, just where the pathGrew more precipitous, and wiped his browWith his worn sleeve, and, panting, breathed long draughtsOf the sweet air, while the hot summer sunFlamed o'er his forehead.But another boy,'Neath a cool poplar in a neighbouring field,Sat playing with his dog, and from the grassUprising, with light bound the coppice clear'd,And lent a vigorous hand to share the toil.So on they went together, grasping firmThe basket's handle with a right good will;And while their young, clear voices met my ear,I recollected how the Bible said,"Bear one another's burdens," and perceivedThat to obey God's word was happiness.

Then, as the bee gleans from the humblest flowerSown by the wayside honey for her hive,I treasured up the lesson, and when eveCall'd home the labouring ox, and to its bedWarn'd the young bird, and shut the lily's cup,I took my little boy upon my knee,And told him of the basket-bearer's toil,And of the friend who help'd him.When his eyeSwell'd full and round, and fix'd upon my face,Taking the story to his inmost soul,I said, "My son, be pitiful to all,And aid them when thou canst.For God hath sownSweet seeds within us, seeds of sympathy,Whose buds are virtues, such as bloom for heaven.

If thy young sister weepeth, kiss the tearFrom her smooth cheek, and sooth with tender wordsHer swelling breast; or if a secret thornIs in thy brother's bosom, draw it thence;Or if thy playmate sorroweth, lend an ear,And share with sympathy his weight of wo.

And when thou art a man, my little one,Still keep thy spirit open to the illsOf foreigner and stranger, of the raceWhom Afric's sun hath darken'd, and of thosePoor red-brow'd exiles from our forest shades,Where once they ruled supreme.Thus shalt thou shunThat selfishness which, wrapp'd in its own gifts,

Forgets alike the Giver and the griefOf those who mourn.So mayst thou ever findPity and love in thine own time of need,If on thy young heart, as a signet ring,Thou grav'st that motto from a Book Divine,'Bear one another's burdens, and fulfilThe law of Christ.'"