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The good dame looked from her cottage
At the close of the pleasant day,
And cheerily called to her little son
Outside the door at play:
“Come, Peter, come! I want you to go,
While there is light to see,
To the hut of the blind old man who lives
Across the dike, for me;
And take these cakes I made for him —
They are hot and smoking yet;
You have time enough to go and come
Before the sun is set.”
And Peter left the brother
With whom all day he had played,
And the sister who had watched their sports
In the willow’s tender shade;
And told them they’d see him back before
They saw a star in sight,
Though he wouldn’t be afraid to go
In the very darkest night!
For he was a brave, bright fellow
With eye and conscience clear;
He could do whatever a boy might do,
And he had not learned to fear.
And now with his face all glowing
And eyes as bright as the day
With the thoughts of his pleasant errand,
He trudged along the way;
And soon his joyous prattle
Made glad a lonesome place —
Alas! if only the blind old man
Could have seen that happy face!
Yet he somehow caught the brightness
Which his voice and presence lent;
And he felt the sunshine come and go
As Peter came and went.
And now as the day was sinking,
And the winds began to rise,
The mother looked from her door again,
Shading her anxious eyes,
And saw the shadows deepen
And birds to their homes come back,
But never a sign of Peter
Along the level track.
But she said: “He will come at morning,
So I need not fret or grieve —
Though it isn’t like my boy at all
To stay without my leave.”
But where was the child delaying?
On the homeward way was he;
And across the dike while the sun was up
An hour above the sea;
He was stopping now to gather flowers,
Now listening to the sound,
As the angry waters dashed themselves
Against their narrow bound.
“Ah! well for us,” said Peter,
“That the gates are good and strong,
And my father tends them carefully,
Or they would not hold you long!
You’re a wicked sea,” said Peter;
“I know why you fret and chafe;
You would like to spoil our land and homes;
But our sluices keep you safe.”
But hark! through the noise of waters
Comes a low, clear, trickling sound;
And the child’s face pales with terror,
And his blossoms drop to the ground.
He is up the bank in a moment
And, stealing through the sand
He sees a stream not yet so large
As his slender childish hand.
’Tis a leak in the dike! He is but a boy,
Unused to fearful scenes;
But, young as he is, he has learned to know
The dreadful thing that means.
A leak in the dike! The stoutest heart
Grows faint that cry to hear.
And the bravest man in all the land
Turns white with mortal fear,
For he knows the smallest leak may grow
To a flood in a single night;
And he knows the strength of the cruel sea
When loosed in its angry might.
And the boy! he has seen the danger
And, shouting a wild alarm,
He forces back the weight of the sea
With the strength of his single arm!
He listens for the joyful sound
Of a footstep passing nigh;
And lays his ear to the ground, to catch
The answer to his cry.
And he hears the rough winds blowing,
And the waters rise and fall,
But never an answer comes to him
Save the echo of his call.
So, faintly calling and crying
Till the sun is under the sea,
Crying and moaning till the stars
Come out for company,
He thinks of his brother and sister,
Asleep in their safe warm bed;
He thinks of his father and mother,
Of himself as dying—and dead;
And of how, when the night is over,
They must come and find him at last;
But he never thinks he can leave the place
Where duty holds him fast.
The good dame in the cottage
Is up and astir with the light,
For the thought of her little Peter
Has been with her all the night.
And now she watches the pathway,
As yester eve she had done;
But what does she see so strange and black
Against the rising sun?
Her neighbors are bearing between them
Something straight to her door;
Her child is coming home, but not
As he ever came before!
“He is dead!” she cries; “my darling!”
And the startled father hears,
And comes and looks the way she looks,
And fears the thing she fears;
Till a glad shout from the bearers
Thrills the stricken man and wife —
“Give thanks, for your son has saved our land,
And God has saved his life!”
So, there in the morning sunshine
They knelt about the boy;
And every head was bared and bent
In tearful, reverent joy.
( Phoebe Cary )
Phoebe Cary (1824-1871) was an American poet. She was born in Cincinnati and lived with her sister, Alice, in New York City. She wrote many poems of beauty and charm, but none is more widely read than “The Leak in the Dike.”
prattle : to talk on and on
trickling : to leak out in a small amount
A) Answer the following questions.
1) What purpose do the dikes of Holland serve?
2) What service did Peter’s mother want him to do?
3) Had he done such things before?
4) How did Peter find the danger
5) What would many boys have done?
6) How did he stop the leak in the dike?
7) What would have happened if he hadn’t done this?
B) Story outline—A great way to understand a story is to ask questions about it and give short answers. Fill in the missing information.
1) Who is the main character?
2) What is he asked to do?
3) Where is the event taking place?
4) When does the event occur (time of day)?
5) Why was he considered a hero?
6) How did those around him respond?