Poems (Helen Jenkins)/Preface

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PREFACE.

With much hesitation, I place this volume of poems before the public, knowing well how open to criticism they will be; but, in compliance with the wishes of my friends, I have decided to do so.

They have been written amid the cares and weariness of a mother's busy life,—often under the shadow of sickness and sorrow.

Doubtless, better opportunities for mental culture in my girlhood, and more leisure for reading and study in later years, would have enabled me to give better expression to my thoughts.

My life has been devoted to my home and family; and I have written only in spare moments, when no real duty might be neglected, recognizing the fact that I am not a genius—simply a plain home-body.

​Circumscribed as my life has been,—

I cannot, from my inner world
  Of tossing, billowy thought,
Bring to you shining pearls, or gems
  Elaborately wrought,
Or hope to find 'mid work and care
A store of hidden diamonds rare:

And yet,—

"If any thought of mine, or sung or told,
Has ever given delight or consolation,
Ye have repaid me back a thousand fold,
By every friendly sign or salutation.

"Therefore I hope, as no unwelcome guest,
At your warm fireside, when the lamps are lighted,
To have my place reserved among the rest,
Nor stand as one unsought or uninvited."
H. N. J.

Kenduskeag.


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