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My tussle with the devil, and other stories cover

My tussle with the devil, and other stories

Chapter 30: THINKING
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About This Book

A compact collection of short narratives and lyrical essays presented as communications received through a spirit medium. The pieces alternate brisk, ironic sketches and contemplative vignettes that probe memory, longing, mortality, domestic life, and the afterlife, sometimes using martial imagery of departure and return. Organized as brief stories, reflections, and themed sequences, the volume blends concise storytelling with moral and sensory observation, offering gentle humor alongside meditative insight.

Fancies

Birds go seeking
Mates,
All on a day made gay.
“Trees are blooming,
Branches waiting,—
Will you come?”
Shy the answer—
Swift surrender—
Roundelays are heard.
Time is flying,
Summer coming,
When the families
Say farewell.
In a pasture green
Fair flowers bloom;
Gay their faces—
Bright their dresses.
Swiftly seeking,
Whirling, wheeling,
Comes a flock
At noon.
“Here are daisies,
Sweetest grasses,
Buttercups and clover,
Let us linger, sip and treasure.”
Summer passes,
Grasses perish,
But in sweetness
Is Springtime cherished.
Daylight passes,
Night approaches,
Lights begin to gleam.
In the houses
One can fancy
Nestlings tucked to rest.

Good night, sea,
Good night world,
All my soul goes out
To thee.
Happy meeting,
Friendly greeting
Upon the milky way.

TRUSTING

Upon the ocean wide
Two little ships set sail.
Over an ocean blue
Two little birds sailed true.
Kneeling upon a nursery floor
Two little children fair.
Under a star-lit sky
A youth and a maiden, shy.
With sightless eyes and folded hands,
Old age murmurs, “God knows best.”
Faith—trust—love—courage!
That is all—God does the rest.

THOUGHTS

Thinking, thinking, thinking,
As the needle travels to and fro
Through sheerest linen—finest lace—
Weaving patterns—all unseen,
Upon its face.
Pictures vivid, pictures dim,
Pictures gay and with sadness grim,
Tiny feet—clinging hands—
All are in the fabric’s sheen.
Unseen tracery takes its place,
To weave again its mystic theme.

THINKING

The only value of thinking
Is thinking of things worth while,
Of thinking of what you want to be,
And thinking of things to do
For the folks—who know not the value
Of thinking of things worth while.
All that you are, or will be,
Is vested in thinking,
And it’s the thoughts worth while,
And the deeds well planned,
Which build your mansion here—and there,
So what are you thinking now—there?
Oh! the hours we spend,
And the days we spend,
In thinking no thoughts at all—
For the only thoughts—which really count—
Are the thoughts of love sent out to all,
For they are the thoughts worth while.