Jeannette And Jo

Two girls I know--Jeannette and Jo, And one is 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!”

--MARY MAPES DODGE.

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A kindly act is a kernel sown, That will grow to a goodly tree, Shedding its fruit when time has flown, Down the gulf of eternity.