Then up she went through the chimney, Never speaking a word, And out of the top flew a woodpecker. For she was changed to a bird.
She had a scarlet cap on her head, And that was left the same, Bat all the rest of her clothes were burned Black as a coal in the flame.
And every country school boy Has seen her in the wood; Where she lives in the woods till this very day, Boring and boring for food.
And this is the lesson she teaches: Live not for yourself alone, Lest the needs you will not pity Shall one day be your own.
Give plenty of what is given to you, Listen to pity's call; Don't think the little you give is great, And the much you get is small.
Now, my little boy, remember that, And try to be kind and good, When you see the woodpecker's sooty dress, And see her scarlet hood.
You mayn't be changed to a bird, though you live As selfishly as you can; But you will be changed to a smaller thing-- A mean and selfish man.
Did you tackle the trouble that came your way With a resolute heart and cheerful? Or hide year face from the light of day With a craven soul and fearful? Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce, Or a trouble is what you make it, And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts, But only how did you take it?
You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that? Come up with a smiling face, Its nothing against you to fall down flat, But to lie there--that's disgrace. The harder you're thrown, why, the higher the bounce; Be proud of your blackened eye! It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts; It's how did you fight--and why?
And though you be done to the death, what then? If you battled the best you could, If you played your part in the world of men, Why, the Critic will call it good. Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce, And whether he's slow or spry, It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts, But only how did you die?
When the lessons and tasks are all ended, And the school for the day is dismissed, And the little ones gather around me, To bid me good-night and be kissed,-- Oh, the little white arms that encircle My neck in a tender embrace! Oh, the smiles that are halos of Heaven, Shedding sunshine and love on my face!
And when they, are gone, I sit dreaming Of my childhood, too lovely to last; Of love that my heart will remember When it wakes to the pulse of the past; Ere the world and its wickedness made me A partner of sorrow and sin; When the glory of God was about me, And the glory of gladness within.