JUST WHISTLE A BIT

Just whistle a bit, if the day be dark,

And the sky be overcast:

If mute be the voice of the piping lark,

Why, pipe your own small blast.

And it's wonderful how o'er the gray sky-track

The truant warbler comes stealing back.

But why need he come? for your soul's at rest,

And the song in the heart,— ah, that is best.

Just whistle a bit, if the night be drear

And the stars refuse to shine:

And a gleam that mocks the starlight clear

Within you glows benign.

Till the dearth of light in the glooming skies

Is lost to the sight of your soul-lit eyes.

What matters the absence of moon or star?

The light within is the best by far.

Just whistle a bit, if there‘ s work to do,

With the mind or in the soil.

And your note will turn out a talisman true

To exorcise grim Toil.

It will lighten your burden and make you feel

That there‘ s nothing like work as a sauce for a meal.

And with song in your heart and the meal in — its place,

There‘ ll be joy in your bosom and light in your face.

Just whistle a bit, if your heart be sore;

‘ Tis a wonderful balm for pain.

Just pipe some old melody o'er and o'er

Till it soothes like summer rain.

And perhaps‘ t would be best in a later day,

When Death comes stalking down the way,

To knock at your bosom and see if you‘ re fit,

Then, as you wait calmly, just whistle a bit.