Self Improvement at Home

 sky from a "house with a view"

Listen, learn and  along: Lord Speak to Me



Today's post is to aid you in having a successful and lovely homemaking day.

Poems:
Hurry the Baby (A Man While You Wait) by Nixon Waterman
O Give Me Patience When Little Hands
Babies Don’t Keep
Jeannette and Jo

Making a Man
by Nixon Waterman

Hurry the baby as fast as you can,

Hurry him, worry him, making him a man.

Off with his baby clothes, get him in pants,

Feed him on brain foods and make him advance.

Hustle him, soon as he's able to walk,

Into a grammar school; cram him with talk.

Fill his poor head full of figures and facts,

Keep on a-jamming them in till it cracks.

Once boys grew up at a rational rate,

Now we develop a man while you wait,

Rush him through college, compel him to grab

Of every known subject a dip or a dab.

Get him in business and after the cash,

All by the time he can grow a mustache.

Let him forget he was ever a boy,

Make gold his god and its jingle his joy.

Keep him a-hustling and clear out of breath,

Until he wins - nervous prostration and death.

A Mother's Prayer

Oh give me patience when little hands

Tug at me with ceaseless small demands.

Keep my lips from hasty, sharp replies,

And give me gentle, smiling eyes.

Let not weariness, confusion and noise

Obscure me from life's fleeting joys.

So in years to come when my house is still,

Beautiful memories its rooms may fill.

This was an embroidery I had on my wall many years ago. I do not know if it is still available in a kit. 

JEANNETTE AND JO

By Mary Maples Dodge 1837

(Note: Learning to be encouraging and cheerful has always been a problem, even back in "the olden days." Poets, writers, preachers and teachers often addressed this subject. How much easier it is to get through a trial when your heart is rooted and grounded in hope and trust in God. This poem was written for girls.)

Two girls I know--Jeannette and Jo,

And one if always moping;

The other lassie, come what may,

Is ever bravely hoping.



Beauty of face and girlish grace

Are theirs, for joy or sorrow;

Jeannette takes brightly every day,

And Jo dreads each to-morrow.



One early morn they watched the dawn--

I saw them stand together;

Their whole day's sport, 'twas very plain,

Depended on the weather.



"'Twill storm! ' cried Jo. Jeannette spoke low,

"Yes, but 'twill soon be over."

And, as she spoke, the sudden shower

Came, beating down the clover.



"I told you so!" cried angry Jo:

"It always is a-raining!"

Then hid her face in dire despair,

Lamenting and complaining.



But sweet Jeannette, quite hopeful yet,--

I tell it to her honor,--

Looked up and waited till the sun

Came streaming in upon her.



The broken clouds sailed off in crowds,

Across a sea of glory.

Jeannette and Jo ran, laughing, in--

Which ends my simple story.



Joy is divine. Come storm, come shine,

The hopeful are the gladdest;

And doubt and dread, children, believe

Of all things are the saddest.



In morning's light, let youth be bright;

Take in the sunshine tender;

Then, at the close, shall life's decline

Be full of sunset splendor.



And ye who fret, try, like Jeannette,

To shun all weak complaining;

And not, like Jo, cry out too soon--

"It always is a-raining!"