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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/10763-0.txt b/10763-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5d5b7df --- /dev/null +++ b/10763-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11613 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10763 *** + +IT CAN BE DONE + +POEMS OF INSPIRATION + + +COLLECTED BY + +JOSEPH MORRIS and ST. CLAIR ADAMS + + + + +FOREWORD + + +This is a volume of inspirational poems. Its purpose is to bring men +courage and resolution, to cheer them, to fire them with new confidence +when they grow dispirited, to strengthen their faith that THINGS CAN BE +DONE. It is better for this purpose than the entire works of any one +poet, for it takes the cream of many and has greater diversity than any +one writer can show. + +It is made up chiefly of very recent poems--not such as were written for +anthologies of poetical "gems," but such as speak directly to the heart, +always in very simple language, often in the phrases of shop or office +or street. Included, however, with the poems of the day are a few of the +fine old pieces that have been of comfort to men through the ages. + +Besides the poems themselves, the volume contains helps to their +understanding and enjoyment. The pieces are introduced by short +comments; these serve the same purpose as the strain played by the +pianist before the singer begins to sing; they create a mood, give a +point of view, throw light on the meaning of what follows. Also the +lives of the authors are briefly summarized; this is in answer to our +natural interest in the writer of a poem we like, and in the case of +living poets it brings together facts hardly to be found anywhere else. + +Finally, the book is not one to be read and then cast aside. It is to be +kept as a constant companion and an unfailing recourse in weariness or +gloom. Human companions are not always in the mood to cheer us, and may +talk upon themes we dislike. But this book will converse or be silent, +it is never out of sorts or discouraged, and so far from being wed to +some single topic, it will speak to us at any time on any subject we +desire. + +To many authors and publishers acknowledgment is due for generous +permission to use copyright material. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +Abou Ben Adhem............................. _Leigh Hunt_ +Answer, The................................ _Grantland Rice_ +Appreciation............................... _William Judson Kibby_ +Arrow and the Song, The.................... _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ +Awareness.................................. _Miriam Teichner_ + +Bars of Fate, The.......................... _Ellen M.H. Gates_ +Battle Cry................................. _John G. Neihardt_ +Belly and the Members, The................. _William Shakespeare_ +Be the Best of Whatever You Are............ _Douglas Malloch_ +Borrowed Feathers.......................... _Joseph Morris_ +Borrowing Trouble.......................... _Robert Burns_ +Brave Life................................. _Grantland Rice_ + +Call of the Unbeaten, The.................. _Grantland Rice_ +Can't...................................... _Edgar A. Guest_ +Can You Sing a Song?....................... _Joseph Morris_ +Cares...................................... _Elizabeth Barrett Browning_ +Celestial Surgeon, The..................... _Robert Louis Stevenson_ +Challenge.................................. _Jean Nette_ +Chambered Nautilus, The.................... _Oliver Wendell Holmes_ +Character of a Happy Life.................. _Sir Henry Wotton_ +Clear the Way.............................. _Charles Mackay_ +Cleon and I................................ _Charles Mackay_ +Columbus................................... _Joaquin Miller_ +Conqueror, The............................. _Berton Braley_ +Co-operation............................... _J. Mason Knox_ +Courage.................................... _Florence Earle Coates +Cowards.................................... _William Shakespeare_ +Creed, A................................... _Edwin Markham_ + +Daffodils, The............................. _William Wordsworth_ +Days of Cheer.............................. _James W. Foley_ +December 31................................ _S.E. Kiser_ +De Sunflower Ain't de Daisy................ _Anonymous_ +Disappointed, The.......................... _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ +Duty....................................... _Ralph Waldo Emerson_ +Duty....................................... _Edwin Markham_ + +Envoi...................................... _John G. Neihardt_ +Essentials................................. _St. Clair Adams_ + +Fable...................................... _Ralph Waldo Emerson_ +Fairy Song................................. _John Keats_ +Faith...................................... _S.E. Kiser_ +Faith...................................... _Edward Rowland Sill_ +Fighter, The............................... _S.E. Kiser_ +Fighting Failure, The...................... _Everard Jack Appleton_ +Firm of Grin and Barrett, The.............. _Sam Walter Foss_ +Four Things................................ _Henry Van Dyke_ +Friends of Mine............................ _James W. Foley_ + +Game, The.................................. _Grantland Rice _ +Gifts of God, The.......................... _George Herbert_ +Gift, The.................................. _Robert Burns_ +Gladness................................... _Anna Hempstead Branch_ +Glad Song, The............................. _Joseph Morris_ +God........................................ _Gamaliel Bradford_ +Good Deeds................................. _William Shakespeare_ +Good Intentions............................ _St. Clair Adams_ +Good Name, A............................... _William Shakespeare_ +Gradatim................................... _G. Holland_ +Gray Days.................................. _Griffith Alexander_ +Greatness of the Soul, The................. _Alfred Tennyson_ +Grief...................................... _Angela Morgan_ +Grumpy Guy, The............................ _Griffith Alexander_ + +Happy Heart, The........................... _Thomas Dekker_ +Has-Beens, The............................. _Walt Mason_ +Having Done and Doing...................... _William Shakespeare_ +Heinelet................................... _Gamaliel Bradford _ +Helpin' Out................................ _William Judson Kibby_ +Here's Hopin'.............................. _Frank L. Stanton_ +Hero, A.................................... _Florence Earle Coates_ +He Whom a Dream Hath Possessed............. _Sheamus O Sheel_ +His Ally................................... _William Rose Benét_ +Hoe Your Row............................... _Frank L. Stanton_ +Hold Fast.................................. _Everard Jack Appleton_ +Hope....................................... _Anonymous_ +Hopeful Brother, A......................... _Frank L. Stanton_ +House by the Side of the Road, The......... _Sam Walter Foss_ +How Did You Die?........................... _Edmund Vance Cooke_ +How Do You Tackle Your Work?............... _Edgar A. Guest_ +Hymn to Happiness, A....................... _James W. Foley_ + +If......................................... _John Kendrick Bangs_ +If......................................... _Rudyard Kipling_ +If I Should Die............................ _Ben King_ +If You Can't Go Over or Under, Go Round.... _Joseph Morris_ +I'm Glad................................... _Anonymous_ +Inner Light, The........................... _John Milton_ +Invictus................................... _William Ernest Henley_ +Is It Raining, Little Flower?.............. _Anonymous_ +It Couldn't Be Done........................ _Edgar A. Guest_ +It May Be.................................. _S.E. Riser_ +It Won't Stay Blowed....................... _St. Clair Adams_ + +Jaw........................................ _St. Clair Adams_ +Joy of Living, The......................... _Gamaliel Bradford_ +Just Be Glad............................... _James Whitcomb Riley_ +Just Whistle............................... _Frank L. Stanton_ + +Keep A-Goin'!.............................. _Frank L. Stanton_ +Keep On Keepin' On......................... _Anonymous_ +Keep Sweet................................. _Strickland W. Gillilan_ +Kingdom of Man, The........................ _John Kendrick Bangs_ +Know Thyself............................... _Angela Morgan_ + +Laugh a Little Bit......................... _Edmund Vance Cooke_ +Lesson from History, A..................... _Joseph Morris_ +Let Me Live Out My Years................... _John G. Neihardt_ +Life....................................... _Griffith Alexander_ +Life....................................... _Edward Rowland Sill_ +Life....................................... _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ +Life and Death............................. _Anna Barbauld_ +Life and Death............................. _Ernest H. Crosby_ +Life, not Death............................ _Alfred Tennyson_ +Life Without Passion....................... _William Shakespeare_ +Lion Path, The............................. _Charlotte Perkins Gilman_ +Lions and Ants............................. _Walt Mason_ +Little Prayer, A........................... _S.E. Kiser_ +Little Thankful Song, A.................... _Frank L. Stanton_ +Lose the Day Loitering..................... _Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ + +Man, Bird, and God......................... _Robert Browning_ +Man or Manikin............................. _Richard Butler Glaenzer_ +Man's a Man for A' That, A................. _Robert Burns_ +Man Who Frets at Worldly Strife, The....... _Joseph Rodman Drake_ +Meetin' Trouble............................ _Everard Jack Appleton_ +"Might Have Been".......................... _Grantland Rice_ +Mistress Fate.............................. _William Rose Benét_ +Morality................................... _Matthew Arnold_ +My Creed................................... _S.E. Kiser_ +My Philosophy.............................. _James Whitcomb Riley_ +My Triumph................................. _John Greenleaf Whittier_ +My Wage.................................... _Jessie B. Rittenhouse_ + +Never Trouble Trouble...................... _St. Clair Adams_ +New Duckling, The.......................... _Alfred Noyes_ +Noble Nature, The.......................... _Ben Jonson_ + +Ode to Duty................................ _William Wordsworth_ +On Being Ready............................. _Grantland Rice_ +On Down the Road........................... _Grantland Rice_ +One Fight More............................. _Theodosia Garrison_ +One of These Days.......................... _James W. Foley_ +One, The................................... _Everard Jack Appleton_ +Opening Paradise........................... _Thomas Gray_ +Opportunity................................ _Berton Braley_ +Opportunity................................ _John James Ingalls_ +Opportunity................................ _Walter Malone_ +Opportunity................................ _Edwin Markham_ +Opportunity................................ _William Shakespeare_ +Opportunity................................ _Edward Rowland Sill_ +Order and the Bees......................... _William Shakespeare_ +Ownership.................................. _St. Clair Adams_ + +Painting the Lily.......................... _William Shakespeare_ +Per Aspera................................. _Florence Earle Coates_ +Pessimist, The............................. _Ben King_ +Philosopher, A............................. _John Kendrick Bangs_ +Philosophy for Croakers.................... _Joseph Morris_ +Pippa's Song............................... _Robert Browning_ +Playing the Game........................... _Anonymous_ +Playing the Game........................... _Berton Braley_ +Play the Game.............................. _Henry Newbolt_ +Polonius's Advice to Laertes............... _William Shakespeare_ +Poor Unfortunate, A........................ _Frank L. Stanton_ +Praise the Generous Gods for Giving........ _William Ernest Henley_ +Prayer, A.................................. _Theodosia Garrison_ +Prayer for Pain............................ _John G. Neihardt_ +Preparedness............................... _Edwin Markham_ +Press On................................... _Park Benjamin _ +Pretty Good World, A....................... _Frank L. Stanton_ +Problem to Be Solved, A.................... _St. Clair Adams_ +Prometheus Unbound......................... _Percy Bysshe Shelley_ +Prospice................................... _Robert Browning_ +Psalm of Life, A........................... _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ + +Quitter, The............................... _Robert W. Service_ + +Rabbi Ben Ezra............................. _Robert Browning_ +Rainbow, The............................... _William Wordsworth_ +Rectifying Years, The...................... _St. Clair Adams_ +Resolve.................................... _Charlotte Perkins Gilman_ +Richer Mines, The.......................... _John Kendrick Bangs_ +Ring Out, Wild Bells....................... _Alfred Tennyson_ +Rules for the Road......................... _Edwin Markham_ + +Sadness and Merriment...................... _William Shakespeare_ +Say Not the Struggle Nought Availeth....... _Arthur Hugh Clough_ +See It Through............................. _Edgar A. Guest_ +Self-Dependence............................ _Matthew Arnold_ +Serenity................................... _Lord Byron_ +Sit Down, Sad Soul......................... _Bryan Waller Procter_ +Sleep and the Monarch...................... _William Shakespeare_ +Slogan..................................... _Jane M'Lean_ +Smiles..................................... _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ +Smiling Paradox, A......................... _John Kendrick Bangs_ +Solitude................................... _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ +Song of Endeavor........................... _James W. Foley_ +Song of Life, A............................ _Angela Morgan_ +Song of Thanksgiving, A.................... _Angela Morgan_ +Song of To-morrow, A....................... _Frank L. Stanton_ +Stability.................................. _William Shakespeare_ +Stand Forth!............................... _Angela Morgan_ +Start Where You Stand...................... _Bert on Braley_ +Steadfast.................................. _Everard Jack Appleton_ +Stone Rejected, The........................ _Edwin Markham_ +Struggle, The.............................. _Miriam Teichner_ +Submission................................. _Miriam Teichner_ +Success.................................... _Berton Braley_ +Swellitis.................................. _Joseph Morris_ +Syndicated Smile, The...................... _St. Clair Adams_ + +There Will Always Be Something to Do....... _Edgar A. Guest_ +Thick Is the Darkness...................... _William Ernest Henley_ +Things That Haven't Been Done Before, The.. _Edgar A. Guest_ +This World................................. _Frank L. Stanton_ +Times Go by Turns.......................... _Robert Southwell_ +Tit for Tat................................ _St. Clair Adams_ +To Althea from Prison...................... _Richard Lovelace_ +Toast to Merriment, A...................... _James W. Foley_ +To a Young Man............................. _Edgar A. Guest_ +To-day..................................... _Thomas Carlyle_ +To-day..................................... _Douglas Malloch_ +To Melancholy.............................. _John Kendrick Bangs_ +To the Men Who Lose........................ _Anonymous_ +To Those Who Fail.......................... _Joaquin Miller_ +To Youth After Pain........................ _Margaret Widdemer_ +Trainers, The.............................. _Grantland Rice_ +Two at a Fireside.......................... _Edwin Markham_ +Two Raindrops.............................. _Joseph Morris_ + +Ultimate Act............................... _Henry Bryan Binns_ +Ulysses.................................... _Alfred Tennyson_ +Unafraid................................... _Everard Jack Appleton_ +Undismayed................................. _James W. Foley_ +Unmusical Soloist, The..................... _Joseph Morris_ +Unsubdued.................................. _S.E. Kiser_ + +Victory.................................... _Miriam Teichner_ +Victory in Defeat.......................... _Edwin Markham_ + +Wanted--a Man.............................. _St. Clair Adams_ +Welcome Man, The........................... _Walt Mason_ +What Dark Days Do.......................... _Everard Jack Appleton_ +When Earth's Last Picture Is Painted....... _Rudyard Kipling_ +When Nature Wants a Man.................... _Angela Morgan_ +Will....................................... _Alfred Tennyson_ +Will....................................... _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ +Wisdom of Folly, The....................... _Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler_ +Wishing.................................... _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ +Woman Who Understands, The................. _Everard Jack Appleton_ +Word, The.................................. _John Kendrick Bangs_ +Work....................................... _Angela Morgan_ +Work....................................... _Henry Van Dyke_ +World Is Against Me, The................... _Edgar A. Guest_ +Worth While................................ _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ + +You May Count That Day..................... _George Eliot_ +Your Mission............................... _Ellen M.H. Gates_ + + + + + +IT CAN BE DONE + + + + +BE THE BEST OF WHATEVER YOU ARE + + +We all dream of great deeds and high positions, away from the pettiness +and humdrum of ordinary life. Yet success is not occupying a lofty place +or doing conspicuous work; it is being the best that is in you. Rattling +around in too big a job is much worse than filling a small one to +overflowing. Dream, aspire by all means; but do not ruin the life you +must lead by dreaming pipe-dreams of the one you would like to lead. +Make the most of what you have and are. Perhaps your trivial, immediate +task is your one sure way of proving your mettle. Do the thing near at +hand, and great things will come to your hand to be done. + + + If you can't be a pine on the top of the hill + Be a scrub in the valley--but be + The best little scrub by the side of the rill; + Be a bush if you can't be a tree. + + If you can't be a bush be a bit of the grass, + And some highway some happier make; + If you can't be a muskie then just be a bass-- + But the liveliest bass in the lake! + + We can't all be captains, we've got to be crew, + There's something for all of us here. + There's big work to do and there's lesser to do, + And the task we must do is the near. + + If you can't be a highway then just be a trail, + If you can't be the sun be a star; + It isn't by size that you win or you fail-- + Be the best of whatever you are! + + +_Douglas Malloch._ + + + + +THE HOUSE BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD + + +This poem has as its keynote friendship and sympathy for other people. +It is a paradox of life that by hoarding love and happiness we lose +them, and that only by giving them away can we keep them for ourselves. +The more we share, the more we possess. We of course find in other +people weaknesses and sins, but our best means of curing these are +through a wise and sympathetic understanding. + + + Let me live in a house by the side of the road, + Where the race of men go by-- + The men who are good and the men who are bad, + As good and as bad as I. + I would not sit in the scorner's seat, + Or hurl the cynic's ban;-- + Let me live in a house by the side of the road + And be a friend to man. + + I see from my house by the side of the road, + By the side of the highway of life, + The men who press with the ardor of hope, + The men who are faint with the strife. + But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears-- + Both parts of an infinite plan;-- + Let me live in my house by the side of the road + And be a friend to man. + + I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead + And mountains of wearisome height; + And the road passes on through the long afternoon + And stretches away to the night. + But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice, + And weep with the strangers that moan, + Nor live in my house by the side of the road + Like a man who dwells alone. + + Let me live in my house by the side of the road + Where the race of men go by-- + They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong, + Wise, foolish--so am I. + Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat + Or hurl the cynic's ban?-- + Let me live in my house by the side of the road + And be a friend to man. + + +_Sam Walter Foss._ + +From "Dreams in Homespun." + + + + +FOUR THINGS + + +What are the qualities of ideal manhood? Various people have given +various answers to this question. Here the poet states what qualities he +thinks indispensable. + + + Four things a man must learn to do + If he would make his record true: + To think without confusion clearly; + To love his fellow-men sincerely; + To act from honest motives purely; + To trust in God and Heaven securely. + + +_Henry Van Dyke._ + +From "Collected Poems." + + + + +IF + + +The central idea of this poem is that success comes from self-control +and a true sense of the values of things. In extremes lies danger. A man +must not lose heart because of doubts or opposition, yet he must do his +best to see the grounds for both. He must not be deceived into thinking +either triumph or disaster final; he must use each wisely--and push on. +In all things he must hold to the golden mean. If he does, he will own +the world, and even better, for his personal reward he will attain the +full stature of manhood. + + + If you can keep your head when all about you + Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, + If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, + But make allowance for their doubting too; + If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, + Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, + Or being hated don't give way to hating, + And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: + + If you can dream--and not make dreams your master; + If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim, + If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster + And treat those two imposters just the same; + If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken + Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, + Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, + And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: + + If you can make one heap of all your winnings + And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, + And lose, and start again at your beginnings + And never breathe a word about your loss; + If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew + To serve your turn long after they are gone, + And so hold on when there is nothing in you + Except the Will which says to them; "Hold on!" + + If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, + Or walk with Kings--nor lose the common touch, + If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, + If all men count with you, but none too much; + If you can fill the unforgiving minute + With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, + Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, + And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son! + + +_Rudyard Kipling._ + +From "Rudyard Kipling's Verse, 1885-1918." + + + + +INVICTUS + + +Triumph in spirit over adverse conditions is the keynote of this poem of +courage undismayed. It rings with the power of the individual to guide +his own destiny. + + + Out of the night that covers me, + Black as the Pit from pole to pole, + I thank whatever gods may be + For my unconquerable soul. + + In the fell clutch of circumstance + I have not winced nor cried aloud. + Under the bludgeonings of chance + My head is bloody, but unbowed. + + Beyond this place of wrath and tears + Looms but the Horror of the shade, + And yet the menace of the years + Finds, and shall find, me unafraid. + + It matters not how strait the gate, + How charged with punishments the scroll, + I am the master of my fate: + I am the captain of my soul. + + +_William Ernest Henley._ + + + + +IT COULDN'T BE DONE + + +After a thing has been done, everybody is ready to declare it easy. But +before it has been done, it is called impossible. One reason why people +fear to embark upon great enterprises is that they see all the +difficulties at once. They know they could succeed in the initial tasks, +but they shrink from what is to follow. Yet "a thing begun is half +done." Moreover the surmounting of the first barrier gives strength and +ingenuity for the harder ones beyond. Mountains viewed from a distance +seem to be unscalable. But they can be climbed, and the way to begin is +to take the first upward step. From that moment the mountains are less +high. As Hannibal led his army across the foothills, then among the +upper ranges, and finally over the loftiest peaks and passes of the +Alps, or as Peary pushed farther and farther into the solitudes that +encompass the North Pole, so can you achieve any purpose whatsoever if +you heed not the doubters, meet each problem as it arises, and keep ever +with you the assurance _It Can Be Done_. + + + Somebody said that it couldn't be done, + But he with a chuckle replied + That "maybe it couldn't," but he would be one + Who wouldn't say so till he'd tried. + So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin + On his face. If he worried he hid it. + He started to sing as he tackled the thing + That couldn't be done, and he did it. + + Somebody scoffed: "Oh, you'll never do that; + At least no one ever has done it"; + But he took off his coat and he took off his hat, + And the first thing we knew he'd begun it. + With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin, + Without any doubting or quiddit, + He started to sing as he tackled the thing + That couldn't be done, and he did it. + + There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done, + There are thousands to prophesy failure; + There are thousands to point out to you one by one, + The dangers that wait to assail you. + But just buckle in with a bit of a grin, + Just take off your coat and go to it; + Just start to sing as you tackle the thing + That "cannot be done," and you'll do it. + + +_Edgar A. Guest._ + +From "The Path to Home." + + + + +THE WELCOME MAN + + + There's a man in the world who is never turned down, wherever + he chances to stray; he gets the glad hand in the populous + town, or out where the farmers make hay; he's greeted with + pleasure on deserts of sand, and deep in the aisles of the + woods; wherever he goes there's the welcoming hand--he's The + Man Who Delivers the Goods. The failures of life sit around and + complain; the gods haven't treated them white; they've lost + their umbrellas whenever there's rain, and they haven't their + lanterns at night; men tire of the failures who fill with their + sighs the air of their own neighborhoods; there's one who is + greeted with love-lighted eyes--he's The Man Who Delivers the + Goods. One fellow is lazy, and watches the clock, and waits for + the whistle to blow; and one has a hammer, with which he will + knock, and one tells a story of woe; and one, if requested to + travel a mile, will measure the perches and roods; but one does + his stunt with a whistle or smile--he's The Man Who Delivers + the Goods. One man is afraid that he'll labor too hard--the + world isn't yearning for such; and one man is always alert, on + his guard, lest he put in a minute too much; and one has a + grouch or a temper that's bad, and one is a creature of moods; + so it's hey for the joyous and rollicking lad--for the One Who + Delivers the Goods! + + +_Walt Mason._ + +From "Walt Mason, His Book." + + + + +THE QUITTER + + +In the famous naval duel between the _Bonhomme Richard_ and the +_Serapis_, John Paul Jones was hailed by his adversary to know whether +he struck his colors. "I have not yet begun to fight," was his answer. +When the surrender took place, it was not Jones's ship that became the +prize of war. Everybody admires a hard fighter--the man who takes +buffets standing up, and in a spirit of "Never say die" is always ready +for more. + + + When you're lost in the wild and you're scared as a child, + And death looks you bang in the eye; + And you're sore as a boil, it's according to Hoyle + To cock your revolver and die. + But the code of a man says fight all you can, + And self-dissolution is barred; + In hunger and woe, oh it's easy to blow-- + It's the hell served for breakfast that's hard. + + You're sick of the game? Well now, that's a shame! + You're young and you're brave and you're bright. + You've had a raw deal, I know, but don't squeal. + Buck up, do your damnedest and fight! + It's the plugging away that will win you the day, + So don't be a piker, old pard; + Just draw on your grit; it's so easy to quit-- + It's the keeping your chin up that's hard. + + It's easy to cry that you're beaten and die, + It's easy to crawfish and crawl, + But to fight and to fight when hope's out of sight, + Why, that's the best game of them all. + And though you come out of each grueling bout, + All broken and beaten and scarred-- + Just have one more try. It's dead easy to die, + It's the keeping on living that's hard. + + +_Robert W. Service._ + +From "Rhymes of a Rolling Stone." + + + +[Illustration: ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE] + + + + +FRIENDS OF MINE + + +We like to be hospitable. To what should we be more hospitable than a +glad spirit or a kind impulse? + + + Good-morning, Brother Sunshine, + Good-morning, Sister Song, + I beg your humble pardon + If you've waited very long. + I thought I heard you rapping, + To shut you out were sin, + My heart is standing open, + Won't you + walk + right + in? + + Good-morning, Brother Gladness, + Good-morning, Sister Smile, + They told me you were coming, + So I waited on a while. + I'm lonesome here without you, + A weary while it's been, + My heart is standing open, + Won't you + walk + right + in? + + Good-morning, Brother Kindness, + Good-morning, Sister Cheer, + I heard you were out calling, + So I waited for you here. + Some way, I keep forgetting + I have to toil or spin + When you are my companions, + Won't you + walk + right + in? + + +_James W. Foley._ + +From "The Voices of Song." + + + + +THE WOMAN WHO UNDERSTANDS + + +"Is this the little woman that made this great war?" was Lincoln's +greeting to Harriet Beecher Stowe. Often a woman is responsible for +events by whose crash and splendor she herself is obscured. Often too +she shapes the career of husband or brother or son. A man succeeds and +reaps the honors of public applause, when in truth a quiet little woman +has made it all possible--has by her tact and encouragement held him to +his best, has had faith in him when his own faith has languished, has +cheered him with the unfailing assurance, "You can, you must, you will." + + +_Somewhere she waits to make you win, your soul in her firm, white hands-- +Somewhere the gods have made for you, the Woman Who Understands!_ + + As the tide went out she found him + Lashed to a spar of Despair, + The wreck of his Ship around him-- + The wreck of his Dreams in the air; + Found him and loved him and gathered + The soul of him close to her heart-- + The soul that had sailed an uncharted sea, + The soul that had sought to win and be free-- + The soul of which _she_ was part! + And there in the dusk she cried to the man, + "Win your battle--you can, you can!" + + Broken by Fate, unrelenting, + Scarred by the lashings of Chance; + Bitter his heart--unrepenting-- + Hardened by Circumstance; + Shadowed by Failure ever, + Cursing, he would have died, + But the touch of her hand, her strong warm hand, + And her love of his soul, took full command, + Just at the turn of the tide! + Standing beside him, filled with trust, + "Win!" she whispered, "you must, you must!" + + Helping and loving and guiding, + Urging when that were best, + Holding her fears in hiding + Deep in her quiet breast; + This is the woman who kept him + True to his standards lost, + When, tossed in the storm and stress of strife, + He thought himself through with the game of life + And ready to pay the cost. + Watching and guarding, whispering still, + "Win you can--and you will, you will!" + + This is the story of ages, + This is the Woman's way; + Wiser than seers or sages, + Lifting us day by day; + Facing all things with a courage + Nothing can daunt or dim, + Treading Life's path, wherever it leads-- + Lined with flowers or choked with weeds, + But ever with him--with him! + Guidon--comrade--golden spur-- + The men who win are helped by _her_! + +_Somewhere she waits, strong in belief, your soul in her firm, white hands: +Thank well the gods, when she comes to you--the Woman Who Understands!_ + + +_Everard Jack Appleton._ + +From "The Quiet Courage." + + + + +WANTED--A MAN + + +Business and the world are exacting in their demands upon us. They make +no concessions to half-heartedness, incompetence, or plodding mediocrity. +But for the man who has proved his worth and can do the exceptional +things with originality and sound judgment, they are eagerly watchful +and have rich rewards. + + + You say big corporations scheme + To keep a fellow down; + They drive him, shame him, starve him too + If he so much as frown. + God knows I hold no brief for them; + Still, come with me to-day + And watch those fat directors meet, + For this is what they say: + + "In all our force not one to take + The new work that we plan! + In all the thousand men we've hired + Where shall we find a man?" + + The world is shabby in the way + It treats a fellow too; + It just endures him while he works, + And kicks him when he's through. + It's ruthless, yes; let him make good, + Or else it grabs its broom + And grumbles: "What a clutter's here! + We can't have this. Make room!" + + And out he goes. It says, "Can bread + Be made from mouldy bran? + The men come swarming here in droves, + But where'll I find a man?" + + Yes, life is hard. But all the same + It seeks the man who's best. + Its grudging makes the prizes big; + The obstacle's a test. + Don't ask to find the pathway smooth, + To march to fife and drum; + The plum-tree will not come to you; + Jack Horner, hunt the plum. + + The eyes of life are yearning, sad, + As humankind they scan. + She says, "Oh, there are men enough, + But where'll I find a man?" + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +IF I SHOULD DIE + + +A man whose word is as good as his bond is a man the world admires. It +is related of Fox that a tradesman whom he long had owed money found him +one day counting gold and asked for payment. Fox replied: "No; I owe +this money to Sheridan. It is a debt of honor. If an accident should +happen to me, he has nothing to show." The tradesman tore his note to +pieces: "I change my debt into a debt of honor." Fox thanked him and +handed over the money, saying that Sheridan's debt was not of so long +standing and that Sheridan must wait. But most of us know men who are +less scrupulous than Fox. + + + If I should die to-night + And you should come to my cold corpse and say, + Weeping and heartsick o'er my lifeless clay-- + If I should die to-night, + And you should come in deepest grief and woe-- + And say: "Here's that ten dollars that I owe," + I might arise in my large white cravat + And say, "What's that?" + + If I should die to-night + And you should come to my cold corpse and kneel, + Clasping my bier to show the grief you feel, + I say, if I should die to-night + And you should come to me, and there and then + Just even hint 'bout payin' me that ten, + I might arise the while, + But I'd drop dead again. + + +_Ben King._ + +From "Ben King's Verse." + + + + +JUST BE GLAD + + +Misfortunes overtake us, difficulties confront us; but these things must +not induce us to give up. A Congressman who had promised Thomas B. Reed +to be present at a political meeting telegraphed at the last moment: +"Cannot come; washout on the line." "No need to stay away," said Reed's +answering telegram; "buy another shirt." + + + O heart of mine, we shouldn't + Worry so! + What we've missed of calm we couldn't + Have, you know! + What we've met of stormy pain, + And of sorrow's driving rain, + We can better meet again, + If it blow! + + We have erred in that dark hour + We have known, + When our tears fell with the shower, + All alone!-- + Were not shine and shower blent + As the gracious Master meant?-- + Let us temper our content + With His own. + + For, we know, not every morrow + Can be sad; + So, forgetting all the sorrow + We have had, + Let us fold away our fears, + And put by our foolish tears, + And through all the coming years + Just be glad. + + +_James Whitcomb Riley._ + +From the Biographical Edition Of the +Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley. + + + + +OPPORTUNITY + + +"I lack only one of having a hundred," said a student after an +examination; "I have the two naughts." And all he did lack was a one, +_rightly placed_. The world is full of opportunities. Discernment to +perceive, courage to undertake, patience to carry through, will change +the whole aspect of the universe for us and bring positive achievement +out of meaningless negation. + + + With doubt and dismay you are smitten + You think there's no chance for you, son? + Why, the best books haven't been written + The best race hasn't been run, + The best score hasn't been made yet, + The best song hasn't been sung, + The best tune hasn't been played yet, + Cheer up, for the world is young! + + No chance? Why the world is just eager + For things that you ought to create + Its store of true wealth is still meagre + Its needs are incessant and great, + It yearns for more power and beauty + More laughter and love and romance, + More loyalty, labor and duty, + No chance--why there's nothing but chance! + + For the best verse hasn't been rhymed yet, + The best house hasn't been planned, + The highest peak hasn't been climbed yet, + The mightiest rivers aren't spanned, + Don't worry and fret, faint hearted, + The chances have just begun, + For the Best jobs haven't been started, + The Best work hasn't been done. + + +_Berton Braley._ + +From "A Banjo at Armageddon." + + + + +SOLITUDE + + +Said an Irishman who had several times been kicked downstairs: "I begin +to think they don't want me around here." So it is with our sorrows, our +struggles. Life decrees that they belong to us individually. If we try +to make others share them, we are shunned. But struggling and weary +humanity is glad enough to share our joys. + + + Laugh, and the world laughs with you; + Weep, and you weep alone; + For the sad old earth + Must borrow its mirth, + It has trouble enough of its own. + + Sing, and the hills will answer; + Sigh, it is lost on the air; + The echoes bound + To a joyful sound, + But shrink from voicing care. + + Rejoice, and men will seek you; + Grieve, and they turn and go; + They want full measure + Of all your pleasure, + But they do not want your woe. + + Be glad, and your friends are many; + Be sad, and you lose them all; + There are none to decline + Your nectared wine, + But alone you must drink life's gall. + + Feast, and your halls are crowded; + Fast, and the world goes by; + Succeed and give, + And it helps you live, + But it cannot help you die. + + There is room in the halls of pleasure + For a long and lordly train; + But one by one + We must all file on + Through the narrow aisles of pain. + + +_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._ + +From "How Salvator Won." + + + + +UNSUBDUED + + +"An artist's career," said Whistler, "always begins to-morrow." So does +the career of any man of courage and imagination. The Eden of such a man +does not lie in yesterday. If he has done well, he forgets his +achievements and dreams of the big deeds ahead. If he has been thwarted, +he forgets his failures and looks forward to vast, sure successes. If +fate itself opposes him, he defies it. Farragut's fleet was forcing an +entrance into Mobile Bay. One of the vessels struck something, a +terrific explosion followed, the vessel went down. "Torpedoes, sir." +They scanned the face of the commander-in-chief. But Farragut did not +hesitate. "Damn the torpedoes," said he. "Go ahead." + + + I have hoped, I have planned, I have striven, + To the will I have added the deed; + The best that was in me I've given, + I have prayed, but the gods would not heed. + + I have dared and reached only disaster, + I have battled and broken my lance; + I am bruised by a pitiless master + That the weak and the timid call Chance. + + I am old, I am bent, I am cheated + Of all that Youth urged me to win; + But name me not with the defeated, + To-morrow again, I begin. + + +_S.E. Kiser._ + +From "Poems That Have Helped Me." + + + + +WORK + +"A SONG OF TRIUMPH" + + +When Captain John Smith was made the leader of the colonists at +Jamestown, Va., he discouraged the get-rich-quick seekers of gold by +announcing flatly, "He who will not work shall not eat." This rule made +of Jamestown the first permanent English settlement in the New World. +But work does more than lead to material success. It gives an outlet +from sorrow, restrains wild desires, ripens and refines character, +enables human beings to cooperate with God, and when well done, brings +to life its consummate satisfaction. Every man is a Prince of +Possibilities, but by work alone can he come into his Kingship. + + + Work! + Thank God for the might of it, + The ardor, the urge, the delight of it-- + Work that springs from the heart's desire, + Setting the brain and the soul on fire-- + Oh, what is so good as the heat of it, + And what is so glad as the beat of it, + And what is so kind as the stern command, + Challenging brain and heart and hand? + + Work! + Thank God for the pride of it, + For the beautiful, conquering tide of it. + Sweeping the life in its furious flood, + Thrilling the arteries, cleansing the blood, + Mastering stupor and dull despair, + Moving the dreamer to do and dare. + Oh, what is so good as the urge of it, + And what is so glad as the surge of it, + And what is so strong as the summons deep, + Rousing the torpid soul from sleep? + + Work! + Thank God for the pace of it, + For the terrible, keen, swift race of it; + Fiery steeds in full control, + Nostrils a-quiver to greet the goal. + Work, the Power that drives behind, + Guiding the purposes, taming the mind, + Holding the runaway wishes back, + Reining the will to one steady track, + Speeding the energies faster, faster, + Triumphing over disaster. + Oh, what is so good as the pain of it, + And what is so great as the gain of it? + And what is so kind as the cruel goad, + Forcing us on through the rugged road? + + Work! + Thank God for the swing of it, + For the clamoring, hammering ring of it, + Passion and labor daily hurled + On the mighty anvils of the world. + Oh, what is so fierce as the flame of it? + And what is so huge as the aim of it? + Thundering on through dearth and doubt, + Calling the plan of the Maker out. + Work, the Titan; Work, the friend, + Shaping the earth to a glorious end, + Draining the swamps and blasting the hills, + Doing whatever the Spirit wills-- + Rending a continent apart, + To answer the dream of the Master heart. + Thank God for a world where none may shirk-- + Thank God for the splendor of work! + + +_Angela Morgan._ + +From "The Hour Has Struck." + + + + +HOW DID YOU DIE? + + +Grant at Ft. Donelson demanded unconditional and immediate surrender. At +Appomattox he offered as lenient terms as victor ever extended to +vanquished. Why the difference? The one event was at the beginning of +the war, when the enemy's morale must be shaken. The other was at the +end of the conflict, when a brave and noble adversary had been rendered +helpless. In his quiet way Grant showed himself one of nature's +gentlemen. He also taught a great lesson. No honor can be too great for +the man, be he even our foe, who has steadily and uncomplainingly done +his very best--and has failed. + + + Did you tackle that trouble that came your way + With a resolute heart and cheerful? + Or hide your face from the light of day + With a craven soul and fearful? + Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce, + Or a trouble is what you make it, + And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts, + But only how did you take it? + + You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that! + Come up with a smiling face. + It's nothing against you to fall down flat, + But to lie there--that's disgrace. + The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce + Be proud of your blackened eye! + It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts; + It's how did you fight--and why? + + And though you be done to the death, what then? + If you battled the best you could, + If you played your part in the world of men, + Why, the Critic will call it good. + Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce, + And whether he's slow or spry, + It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts, + But only how did you die? + + +_Edmund Vance Cooke._ + +From "Impertinent Poems." + + + + +A LESSON FROM HISTORY + + +To break the ice of an undertaking is difficult. To cross on broken ice, +as Eliza did to freedom, or to row amid floating ice, as Washington did +to victory, is harder still. This poem applies especially to those who +are discouraged in a struggle to which they are already committed. + + + Everything's easy after it's done; + Every battle's a "cinch" that's won; + Every problem is clear that's solved-- + The earth was round when it _revolved!_ + But Washington stood amid grave doubt + With enemy forces camped about; + He could not know how he would fare + Till _after_ he'd crossed the Delaware. + + Though the river was full of ice + He did not think about it twice, + But started across in the dead of night, + The enemy waiting to open the fight. + Likely feeling pretty blue, + Being human, same as you, + But he was brave amid despair, + And Washington crossed the Delaware! + + So when you're with trouble beset, + And your spirits are soaking wet, + When all the sky with clouds is black, + Don't lie down upon your back + And look at _them_. Just do the thing; + Though you are choked, still try to sing. + If times are dark, believe them fair, + And you will cross the Delaware! + + +_Joseph Morris._ + + + + +RABBI BEN EZRA + +(SELECTED VERSES) + + +To some people success is everything, and the easier it is gained the +better. To Browning success is nothing unless it is won by painful +effort. What Browning values is struggle. Throes, rebuffs, even failure +to achieve what we wish, are to be welcomed, for the effects of vigorous +endeavor inweave themselves into our characters; moreover through +struggle we lift ourselves from the degradation into which the indolent +fall. In the intervals of strife we may look back dispassionately upon +what we have gone through, see where we erred and where we did wisely, +watch the workings of universal laws, and resolve to apply hereafter +what we have hitherto learned. + + + Then, welcome each rebuff + That turns earth's smoothness rough, + Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand but go! + Be our joys three-parts pain! + Strive, and hold cheap the strain; + Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the throe! + + For thence,--a paradox + Which comforts while it mocks,-- + Shall life succeed in that it seems to fail: + What I aspired to be, + And was not, comforts me: + A brute I might have been, but would not sink i' the scale. + + So, still within this life, + Though lifted o'er its strife, + Let me discern, compare, pronounce at last, + "This rage was right i' the main, + That acquiescence vain: + The Future I may face now I have proved the Past." + + For more is not reserved + To man, with soul just nerved + To act to-morrow what he learns to-day: + Here, work enough to watch + The Master work, and catch + Hints of the proper craft, tricks of the tool's true play. + + +_Robert Browning._ + + + + +TO MELANCHOLY + + +The last invitation anybody would accept is "Come, let us weep +together." If we keep melancholy at our house, we should be careful to +have it under lock and key, so that no one will observe it. + + + Melancholy, + Melancholy, + I've no use for you, by Golly! + Yet I'm going to keep you hidden + In some chamber dark, forbidden, + Just as though you were a prize, sir, + Made of gold, and I a miser-- + Not because I think you jolly, + Melancholy! + Not for that I mean to hoard you, + Keep you close and lodge and board you + As I would my sisters, brothers, + Cousins, aunts, and old grandmothers, + But that you shan't bother others + With your sniffling, snuffling folly, + Howling, + Yowling, + Melancholy. + + +_John Kendrick Bangs._ + +From "Songs of Cheer." + + + + +THE LION PATH + + +Admiral Dupont was explaining to Farragut his reasons for not taking his +ironclads into Charleston harbor. "You haven't given me the main reason +yet," said Farragut. "What's that?" "You didn't think you could do it." +So the man who thinks he can't pass a lion, can't. But the man who +thinks he can, can. Indeed he oftentimes finds that the lion isn't +really there at all. + + + I dare not!-- + Look! the road is very dark-- + The trees stir softly and the bushes shake, + The long grass rustles, and the darkness moves + Here! there! beyond--! + There's something crept across the road just now! + And you would have me go--? + Go _there_, through that live darkness, hideous + With stir of crouching forms that wait to kill? + Ah, _look_! See there! and there! and there again! + Great yellow, glassy eyes, close to the ground! + Look! Now the clouds are lighter I can see + The long slow lashing of the sinewy tails, + And the set quiver of strong jaws that wait--! + Go there? Not I! Who dares to go who sees + So perfectly the lions in the path? + + Comes one who dares. + Afraid at first, yet bound + On such high errand as no fear could stay. + Forth goes he, with lions in his path. + And then--? + He dared a death of agony-- + Outnumbered battle with the king of beasts-- + Long struggles in the horror of the night-- + Dared, and went forth to meet--O ye who fear! + Finding an empty road, and nothing there-- + And fences, and the dusty roadside trees-- + Some spitting kittens, maybe, in the grass. + + +_Charlotte Perkins Gilman._ + +From "In This Our World." + + + + +THE ANSWER + + +Bob Fitzsimmons lacked the physical bulk of the men he fought, was +ungainly in build and movement, and not infrequently got himself floored +in the early rounds of his contests. But many people consider him the +best fighter for his weight who ever stepped into the prize ring. Not a +favorite at first, he won the popular heart by making good. Of course he +had great natural powers; from any position when the chance at last came +he could dart forth a sudden, wicked blow that no human being could +withstand. But more formidable still was the spirit which gave him cool +and complete command of all his resources, and made him most dangerous +when he was on the verge of being knocked out. + + + When the battle breaks against you and the crowd forgets to cheer + When the Anvil Chorus echoes with the essence of a jeer; + When the knockers start their panning in the knocker's nimble way + With a rap for all your errors and a josh upon your play-- + There is one quick answer ready that will nail them on the wing; + There is one reply forthcoming that will wipe away the sting; + There is one elastic come-back that will hold them, as it should-- + Make good. + + No matter where you finish in the mix-up or the row, + There are those among the rabble who will pan you anyhow; + But the entry who is sticking and delivering the stuff + Can listen to the yapping as he giggles up his cuff; + The loafer has no come-back and the quitter no reply + When the Anvil Chorus echoes, as it will, against the sky; + But there's one quick answer ready that will wrap them in a hood-- + Make good. + + +_Grantland Rice._ + +From "The Sportlight." + + + + +THE WORLD IS AGAINST ME + + +Babe Ruth doesn't complain that opposing pitchers try to strike him out; +he swings at the ball till he swats it for four bases. Ty Cobb doesn't +complain that whole teams work wits and muscles overtime to keep him +from stealing home; he pits himself against them all and comes galloping +or hurdling or sliding in. What other men can do any man can do if he +works long enough with a brave enough heart. + + + "The world is against me," he said with a sigh. + "Somebody stops every scheme that I try. + The world has me down and it's keeping me there; + I don't get a chance. Oh, the world is unfair! + When a fellow is poor then he can't get a show; + The world is determined to keep him down low." + + "What of Abe Lincoln?" I asked. "Would you say + That he was much richer than you are to-day? + He hadn't your chance of making his mark, + And his outlook was often exceedingly dark; + Yet he clung to his purpose with courage most grim + And he got to the top. Was the world against him? + + "What of Ben Franklin? I've oft heard it said + That many a time he went hungry to bed. + He started with nothing but courage to climb, + But patiently struggled and waited his time. + He dangled awhile from real poverty's limb, + Yet he got to the top. Was the world against him? + + "I could name you a dozen, yes, hundreds, I guess, + Of poor boys who've patiently climbed to success; + All boys who were down and who struggled alone, + Who'd have thought themselves rich if your fortune they'd known; + Yet they rose in the world you're so quick to condemn, + And I'm asking you now, was the world against them?" + + +_Edgar A. Guest._ + +From "Just Folks." + + + + +SAY NOT THE STRUGGLE NOUGHT AVAILETH + + +In any large or prolonged enterprise we are likely to take too limited a +view of the progress we are making. The obstacles do not yield at some +given point; we therefore imagine we have made no headway. The poet here +uses three comparisons to show the folly of accepting this hasty and +partial evidence. A soldier may think, from the little part of the +battle he can see, that the day is going against him; but by holding his +ground stoutly he may help his comrades in another quarter to win the +victory. Successive waves may seem to rise no higher on the land, but +far back in swollen creek and inlet is proof that the tide is coming in. +As we look toward the east, we are discouraged at the slowness of +daybreak; but by looking westward we see the whole landscape illumined. + + + Say not the struggle nought availeth, + The labor and the wounds are vain, + The enemy faints not, nor faileth, + And as things have been they remain. + + If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars; + It may be, in yon smoke conceal'd, + Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers, + And, but for you, possess the field. + + For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, + Seem here no painful inch to gain, + Far back, through creeks and inlets making, + Comes silent, flooding in, the main. + + And not by eastern windows only, + When daylight comes, comes in the light, + In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly, + But westward, look, the land is bright. + + +_Arthur Hugh Clough._ + + + + +WORTH WHILE + + +A little boy whom his mother had rebuked for not turning a deaf ear to +temptation protested, with tears, that he had no deaf ear. But +temptation, even when heard, must somehow be resisted. Yea, especially +when heard! We deserve no credit for resisting it unless it comes to our +ears like the voice of the siren. + + + It is easy enough to be pleasant, + When life flows by like a song, + But the man worth while is one who will smile, + When everything goes dead wrong. + For the test of the heart is trouble, + And it always comes with the years, + And the smile that is worth the praises of earth, + Is the smile that shines through tears. + + It is easy enough to be prudent, + When nothing tempts you to stray, + When without or within no voice of sin + Is luring your soul away; + But it's only a negative virtue + Until it is tried by fire, + And the life that is worth the honor on earth, + Is the one that resists desire. + + By the cynic, the sad, the fallen, + Who had no strength for the strife, + The world's highway is cumbered to-day, + They make up the sum of life. + But the virtue that conquers passion, + And the sorrow that hides in a smile, + It is these that are worth the homage on earth + For we find them but once in a while. + + +_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._ + +From "Poems of Sentiment." + + + + +HOPE + + +Gloom and despair are really ignorance in another form. They fail to +reckon with the fact that what appears to be baneful often turns out to +be good. Lincoln lost the senatorship to Douglas and thought he had +ended his career; had he won the contest, he might have remained only a +senator. Life often has surprise parties for us. Things come to us +masked in gloom and black; but Time, the revealer, strips off the +disguise, and lo, what we have is blessings. + + + Never go gloomy, man with a mind, + Hope is a better companion than fear; + Providence, ever benignant and kind, + Gives with a smile what you take with a tear; + All will be right, + Look to the light. + Morning was ever the daughter of night; + All that was black will be all that is bright, + Cheerily, cheerily, then cheer up. + + Many a foe is a friend in disguise, + Many a trouble a blessing most true, + Helping the heart to be happy and wise, + With love ever precious and joys ever new. + Stand in the van, + Strike like a man! + This is the bravest and cleverest plan; + Trusting in God while you do what you can. + Cheerily, cheerily, then cheer up. + + +_Anonymous._ + + + + +I'M GLAD + + + I'm glad the sky is painted blue; + And the earth is painted green; + And such a lot of nice fresh air + All sandwiched in between. + + +_Anonymous._ + + + + +THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS + + +The nautilus is a small mollusk that creeps upon the bottom of the sea, +though it used to be supposed to swim, or even to spread a kind of sail +so that the wind might drive it along the surface. What interests us in +this poem is the way the nautilus _grows_. Just as a tree when sawed +down has the record of its age in the number of its rings, so does the +nautilus measure its age by the ever-widening compartments of its shell. +These it has successively occupied. The poet, looking upon the now empty +shell, thinks of human life as growing in the same way. We advance from +one state of being to another, each nobler than the one which preceded +it, until the spirit leaves its shell altogether and attains a glorious +and perfect freedom. + + + This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, + Sailed the unshadowed main,-- + The venturous bark that flings + On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings + In gulfs enchanted, where the Siren sings, + And coral reefs lie bare, + Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair. + + Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl; + Wrecked is the ship of pearl! + And every chambered cell, + Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell, + As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell, + Before thee lies revealed,-- + Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed! + + Year after year beheld the silent toil + That spread his lustrous coil; + Still, as the spiral grew, + He left the past year's dwelling for the new, + Stole with soft step its shining archway through, + Built up its idle door, + Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more. + + Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, + Child of the wandering sea, + Cast from her lap, forlorn! + From thy dead lips a clearer note is born + Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn! + While on mine ear it rings, + Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:-- + + Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, + As the swift seasons roll! + Leave thy low-vaulted past! + Let each new temple, nobler than the last, + Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, + Till thou at length art free, + Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea! + + +_Oliver Wendell Holmes._ + + + + +PIPPA'S SONG + + +This little song vibrates with an optimism that embraces the whole +universe. A frequent error in quoting it is the substitution of the word +_well_ for _right_. Browning is no such shallow optimist as to believe +that all is well with the world, but he does maintain that things are +right with the world, for in spite of its present evils it is slowly +working its way toward perfection, and in the great scheme of things it +may make these evils themselves an instrument to move it toward its +ultimate goal. + + + The year's at the spring + And day's at the morn; + Morning's at seven; + The hillside's dew-pearled; + The lark's on the wing; + The snail's on the thorn; + God's in his heaven-- + All's right with the world. + + +_Robert Browning._ + + + + +OWNERSHIP + + +The true value of anything lies, not in the object itself or in its +legal possession, but in our attitude to it. We may own a thing in fee +simple, yet derive from it nothing but vexation. For those who have +little, as indeed for those who have much, there are no surer means of +happiness than enjoying that which they do not possess. Emerson shows us +that two harvests may be gathered from every field--a material one by +the man who raised the crop, and an esthetic or spiritual one by +whosoever can see beauty or thrill with an inner satisfaction. + + + They ride in Packards, those swell guys, + While I can't half afford a Ford; + Choice fillets fill a void for them, + We've cheese and prunes the place I board; + They've smirking servants hanging round, + You'd guess by whom my shoes are shined. + But all the same I'm rich as they, + For ownership's a state of mind. + + _They_ own, you say? Pshaw, they possess! + And what a fellow has, has him! + The rich can't stop and just enjoy + Their lawns and shrubs and house-fronts trim. + They're tied indoors and foot the bills; + I stroll or stray, as I'm inclined-- + Possession was not meant for use, + But ownership's a state of mind. + + The folks who have must try to keep + Against the thieves who swarm and steal; + They dare not stride, they mince along-- + Their pavement's a banana peel. + Who owns, the jeweler or I, + Yon gems by window-bars confined? + Possession lies in locks and keys; + True ownership's a state of mind. + + I own my office (I've a boss, + But so have all men--so has he); + The business is not mine, but yet + I own the whole blamed company; + Stockholders are less proud than I + When competition's auld lang syned. + What care I that the profit's theirs? + I have what counts--an owner's mind. + + The pretty girls I meet are mine + (I do not choose to tell them so); + I own the flowers, the trees, the birds; + I own the sunshine and the snow; + I own the block, I own the town-- + The smiles, the songs of humankind. + For ownership is how you feel; + It's just a healthy state of mind. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +A SMILING PARADOX + + +Good nature or ill is like the loaves and fishes. The more we give away, +the more we have. + + + I've squandered smiles to-day, + And, strange to say, + Altho' my frowns with care I've stowed away, + To-night I'm poorer far in frowns than at the start; + While in my heart, + Wherein my treasures best I store, + I find my smiles increased by several score. + + +_John Kendrick Bangs._ + +From "Songs of Cheer." + + + + +THE NEW DUCKLING + + +There are people who, without having anything exceptional in their +natures or purposes or visions, yet try to be different for the sake of +being different. They are not content to be what they are; they wish to +be "utterly other." Of course they are hollow, artificial, insincere; +moreover they are nuisances. Their very foundations are wrong ones. Be +_yourself_ unless you're a fool; in that case, of course, try to be +somebody else. + + + "I want to be new," said the duckling. + "O ho!" said the wise old owl, + While the guinea-hen cluttered off chuckling + To tell all the rest of the fowl. + + "I should like a more elegant figure," + That child of a duck went on. + "I should like to grow bigger and bigger, + Until I could swallow a swan. + + "I _won't_ be the bond slave of habit, + I _won't_ have these webs on my toes. + I want to run round like a rabbit, + A rabbit as red as a rose. + + "I _don't_ want to waddle like mother, + Or quack like my silly old dad. + I want to be utterly other, + And _frightfully_ modern and mad." + + "Do you know," said the turkey, "you're quacking! + There's a fox creeping up thro' the rye; + And, if you're not utterly lacking, + You'll make for that duck-pond. Good-bye!" + + But the duckling was perky as perky. + "Take care of your stuffing!" he called. + (This was horribly rude to a turkey!) + "But you aren't a real turkey," he bawled. + + "You're an Early-Victorian Sparrow! + A fox is more fun than a sheep! + I shall show that _my_ mind is not narrow + And give him my feathers--to keep." + + Now the curious end of this fable, + So far as the rest ascertained, + Though they searched from the barn to the stable, + Was that _only his feathers remained._ + + So he _wasn't_ the bond slave of habit, + And he _didn't_ have webs on his toes; + And _perhaps_ he runs round like a rabbit, + A rabbit as red as a rose. + + +_Alfred Noyes._ + +From "Collected Poems." + + + + +CAN YOU SING A SONG? + + +Nothing lifts the spirit more than a song, especially the _inward_ song +of a worker who can sound it alike at the beginning of his task, in the +heat of midday, and in the weariness and cool of the evening. + + + Can you sing a song to greet the sun, + Can you cheerily tackle the work to be done, + Can you vision it finished when only begun, + Can you sing a song? + + Can you sing a song when the day's half through, + When even the thought of the rest wearies you, + With so little done and so much to do, + Can you sing a song? + + Can you sing a song at the close of the day, + When weary and tired, the work's put away, + With the joy that it's done the best of the pay, + Can you sing a song? + + +_Joseph Morris._ + + + + +KNOW THYSELF + + +It seems impossible that human beings could endure so much until we +realize that they _have_ endured it. The spirit of man performs +miracles; it transcends the limitations of flesh and blood. It is like +Uncle Remus's account of Brer Rabbit climbing a tree. "A rabbit couldn't +do that," the little boy protested. "He did," Uncle Remus responded; "he +was jes' 'bleeged to." + + + Reined by an unseen tyrant's hand, + Spurred by an unseen tyrant's will, + Aquiver at the fierce command + That goads you up the danger hill, + You cry: "O Fate, O Life, be kind! + Grant but an hour of respite--give + One moment to my suffering mind! + I can not keep the pace and live." + But Fate drives on and will not heed + The lips that beg, the feet that bleed. + Drives, while you faint upon the road, + Drives, with a menace for a goad; + With fiery reins of circumstance + Urging his terrible advance + The while you cry in your despair, + "The pain is more than I can bear!" + + Fear not the goad, fear not the pace, + Plead not to fall from out the race-- + It is your own Self driving you, + Your Self that you have never known, + Seeing your little self alone. + Your Self, high-seated charioteer, + Master of cowardice and fear, + Your Self that sees the shining length + Of all the fearful road ahead, + Knows that the terrors that you dread + Are pigmies to your splendid strength; + Strength you have never even guessed, + Strength that has never needed rest. + Your Self that holds the mastering rein, + Seeing beyond the sweat and pain + And anguish of your driven soul, + The patient beauty of the goal! + + Fighting upon the terror field + Where man and Fate came breast to breast, + Prest by a thousand foes to yield, + Tortured and wounded without rest, + You cried: "Be merciful, O Life-- + The strongest spirit soon must break + Before this all-unequal strife, + This endless fight for failure's sake!" + But Fate, unheeding, lifted high + His sword, and thrust you through to die, + And then there came one strong and great, + Who towered high o'er Chance and Fate, + Who bound your wound and eased your pain + And bade you rise and fight again. + And from some source you did not guess + Gushed a great tide of happiness-- + A courage mightier than the sun-- + You rose and fought and, fighting, won! + + It was your own Self saving you, + Your Self no man has ever known, + Looking on flesh and blood alone. + That Self that lives so close to God + As roots that feed upon the sod. + That one who stands behind the screen, + Looks through the window of your eyes-- + A being out of Paradise. + The Self no human eye has seen, + The living one who never tires, + Fed by the deep eternal fires. + Your flaming Self, with two-edged sword, + Made in the likeness of the Lord, + Angel and guardian at the gate, + Master of Death and King of Fate! + + +_Angela Morgan._ + +From "The Hour Has Struck." + + + + +JUST WHISTLE + + +There is a psychological benefit in the mere physical act of whistling. +When the body makes music, the spirit falls into harmonies too and the +discords that assail us cease to make themselves heard. + + + When times are bad an' folks are sad + An' gloomy day by day, + Jest try your best at lookin' glad + An' whistle 'em away. + + Don't mind how troubles bristle, + Jest take a rose or thistle. + Hold your own + An' change your tone + An' whistle, whistle, whistle! + + A song is worth a world o' sighs. + When red the lightnings play, + Look for the rainbow in the skies + An' whistle 'em away. + + Don't mind how troubles bristle, + The rose comes with the thistle. + Hold your own + An' change your tone + An' whistle, whistle, whistle! + + Each day comes with a life that's new, + A strange, continued story + But still beneath a bend o' blue + The world rolls on to glory. + + Don't mind how troubles bristle, + Jest take a rose or thistle. + Hold your own + An' change your tone + An' whistle, whistle, whistle! + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + + + +[Illustration: GRANTLAND RICE] + + + + +"MIGHT HAVE BEEN" + + +"Yes, it's pretty hard," the optimistic old woman admitted. "I have to +get along with only two teeth, one in the upper jaw and one in the +lower--but thank God, they meet." + + + Here's to "The days that might have been"; + Here's to "The life I might have led"; + The fame I might have gathered in-- + The glory ways I might have sped. + Great "Might Have Been," I drink to you + Upon a throne where thousands hail-- + And then--there looms another view-- + I also "might have been" in jail. + + O "Land of Might Have Been," we turn + With aching hearts to where you wait; + Where crimson fires of glory burn, + And laurel crowns the guarding gate; + We may not see across your fields + The sightless skulls that knew their woe-- + The broken spears--the shattered shields-- + That "might have been" as truly so. + + "Of all sad words of tongue or pen"-- + So wails the poet in his pain-- + The saddest are, "It might have been," + And world-wide runs the dull refrain. + The saddest? Yes--but in the jar + This thought brings to me with its curse, + I sometimes think the gladdest are + "It might have been a blamed sight worse." + + +_Grantland Rice._ + +From "The Sportlight." + + + + +THE ONE + + +In our youth we picture ourselves as we will be in the future--not mere +types of this or that kind of success, but above all and in all, Ideal +Men. Then come the years and the struggles, and we are buffeted and +baffled, and our very ideal is eclipsed. But others have done better +than we. Weary and harassed, they yet embody our visions. And we, if we +are worth our salt, do not envy them when we see them. Nor should we +grow dispirited. Rather should we rejoice in their triumph, rejoice that +our dreams were not impossibilities, take courage to strive afresh for +that which we know is best. + + + I knew his face the moment that he passed + Triumphant in the thoughtless, cruel throng,-- + Triumphant, though the quiet, tired eyes + Showed that his soul had suffered overlong. + And though across his brow faint lines of care + Were etched, somewhat of Youth still lingered there. + I gently touched his arm--he smiled at me-- + He was the Man that Once I Meant to Be! + + Where I had failed, he'd won from life, Success; + Where I had stumbled, with sure feet he stood; + Alike--yet unalike--we faced the world, + And through the stress he found that life was good + And I? The bitter wormwood in the glass, + The shadowed way along which failures pass! + Yet as I saw him thus, joy came to me-- + He was the Man that Once I Meant to Be! + + I knew him! And I knew he knew me for + The man HE might have been. Then did his soul + Thank silently the gods that gave him strength + To win, while I so sorely missed the goal? + He turned, and quickly in his own firm hand + He took my own--the gulf of Failure spanned, ... + And that was all--strong, self-reliant, free, + He was the Man that Once I Meant to Be! + + We did not speak. But in his sapient eyes + I saw the spirit that had urged him on, + The courage that had held him through the fight + Had once been mine, I thought, "Can it be gone?" + He felt that unasked question--felt it so + His pale lips formed the one-word answer, "No!" + + * * * * * + + Too late to win? No! Not too late for me-- + He is the Man that Still I Mean to Be! + + +_Everard Jack Appleton._ + +From "The Quiet Courage." + + + + +THE JOY OF LIVING + + +Men too often act as if life were nothing more than hardships to be +endured and difficulties to be overcome. They look upon what is happy or +inspiring with eyes that really fail to see. As Wordsworth says of Peter +Bell, + + "A primrose by the river's brim + A yellow primrose was to him, + And it was nothing more." + +But to stop now and then and realize that the world is fresh and buoyant +and happy, will do much to keep the spirit young. We should be glad that +we are alive, should tell ourselves often in the words of Charles Lamb: +"I am in love with this green earth." + + + The south wind is driving + His splendid cloud-horses + Through vast fields of blue. + The bare woods are singing, + The brooks in their courses + Are bubbling and springing + And dancing and leaping, + The violets peeping. + I'm glad to be living: + Aren't you? + + +_Gamaliel Bradford._ + + + + +THERE WILL ALWAYS BE SOMETHING TO DO + + +An old lady, famous for her ability to find in other people traits that +she could commend, was challenged to say a good word for the devil. +After a moment's hesitation she answered, "You must at least give him +credit for being industrious." Perhaps it is this superactivity of Satan +that causes beings less wickedly inclined to have such scope for the +exercise of their qualities. Certain it is that nobody need hang back +from want of something to do, to promote, to assail, to protect, to +endure, or to sympathize with. + + + There will always be something to do, my boy; + There will always be wrongs to right; + There will always be need for a manly breed + And men unafraid to fight. + There will always be honor to guard, my boy; + There will always be hills to climb, + And tasks to do, and battles new + From now till the end of time. + + There will always be dangers to face, my boy; + There will always be goals to take; + Men shall be tried, when the roads divide, + And proved by the choice they make. + There will always be burdens to bear, my boy; + There will always be need to pray; + There will always be tears through the future years, + As loved ones are borne away. + + There will always be God to serve, my boy, + And always the Flag above; + They shall call to you until life is through + For courage and strength and love. + So these are things that I dream, my boy, + And have dreamed since your life began: + That whatever befalls, when the old world calls, + It shall find you a sturdy man. + + +_Edgar A. Guest._ + +From "The Path to Home." + + + + +GOOD INTENTIONS + + +Thinking you would like a square meal will not in itself earn you one. +Thinking you would like a strong body will not without effort on your +part make you an athlete. Thinking you would like to be kind or +successful will not bring you gentleness or achievement if you stop with +mere thinking. The arrows of intention must have the bow of strong +purpose to impel them. + + + The road to hell, they assure me, + With good intentions is paved; + And I know my desires are noble, + But my deeds might brand me depraved. + It's the warped grain in our nature, + And St. Paul has written it true: + "The good that I would I do not; + But the evil I would not I do." + + I've met few men who are monsters + When I came to know them inside; + Yet their bearing and dealings external + Are crusted with cruelty, pride, + Scorn, selfishness, envy, indifference, + Greed--why the long list pursue? + The good that they would they do not; + But the evil they would not they do. + + Intentions may still leave us beast-like; + With unchangeable purpose we're men. + We must drive the nail home--and then clinch it + Or storms shake it loose again. + In things of great import, in trifles, + We our recreant souls must subdue + Till the evil we would not we do not + And the good that we would we do. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +PHILOSOPHY FOR CROAKERS + + +Many people seem to get pleasure in seeing all the bad there is, and in +making everything about them gloomy. They are like the old woman who on +being asked how her health was, replied: "Thank the Lord, I'm poorly." + + + Some folks git a heap o' pleasure + Out o' lookin' glum; + Hoard their cares like it was treasure-- + Fear they won't have some. + Wear black border on their spirit; + Hang their hopes with crape; + Future's gloomy and they fear it, + Sure there's no escape. + + Now there ain't no use of whining + Weightin' joy with lead; + There is silver in the linin' + Somewhere on ahead. + + Can't enjoy the sun to-day-- + It may rain to-morrow; + When a pain won't come their way, + Future pains they borrow. + If there's good news to be heard, + Ears are stuffed with cotton; + Evils dire are oft inferred; + Good is all forgotten. + + When upon a peel I stand, + Slippin' like a goner, + Luck, I trust, will shake my hand + Just around the corner. + + Keep a scarecrow in the yard, + Fierce old bulldog near 'em; + Chase off joy that's tryin' hard + To come in an' cheer 'em. + Wear their blinders big and strong, + Dodge each happy sight; + Like to keep their faces long; + Think the day is night. + + Now I've had my share of trouble; + Back been bent with ill; + Big load makes the joy seem double + When I mount the hill. + + Got the toothache in their soul; + Corns upon their feelin's; + Get their share but want the whole, + Say it's crooked dealings. + Natures steeped in indigo; + Got their joy-wires crossed; + Swear it's only weeds that grow; + Flowers always lost. + + Now it's best to sing a song + 'Stead o' sit and mourn; + Rose you'll find grows right along + Bigger than the thorn. + + Beat the frogs the way they croak; + See with goggles blue-- + Universe is cracked or broke, + 'Bout to split in two. + Think the world is full of sin, + Soon go up the spout; + Badness always movin' in, + Goodness movin' out. + + But I've found folks good and kind, + 'Cause I thought they would be; + Most men try, at least I find, + To be what they should be. + + +_Joseph Morris._ + + + + +THE FIGHTING FAILURE + + +"I'm not a rabid, preachy, pollyanna optimist. Neither am I a gloomy +grouch. I believe in a loving Divine Providence Who expects you to play +the Game to the limit, Who wants you to hold tight to His hand, and Who +compensates you for the material losses by giving you the ability to +retain your sense of values, and keep your spiritual sand out of the +bearings of your physical machine, if you'll trust and--'Keep Sweet, +Keep Cheerful, or else--Keep Still'"--_Everard Jack Appleton_. + + +He has come the way of the fighting men, and fought by the rules of the + Game, +And out of Life he has gathered--What? A living,--and little fame, +Ever and ever the Goal looms near,--seeming each time worth while; +But ever it proves a mirage fair--ever the grim gods smile. +And so, with lips hard set and white, he buries the hope that is gone,-- +His fight is lost--and he knows it is lost--and yet he is fighting on. + +Out of the smoke of the battle-line watching men win their way, +And, cheering with those who cheer success, he enters again the fray, +Licking the blood and the dust from his lips, wiping the sweat from his + eyes, +He does the work he is set to do--and "therein honor lies." +Brave they were, these men he cheered,--theirs is the winners' thrill; +_His_ fight is lost--and he knows it is lost--and yet he is fighting still. + +And those who won have rest and peace; and those who died have more; +But, weary and spent, he can not stop seeking the ultimate score; +Courage was theirs for a little time,--but what of the man who sees +That he must lose, yet will not beg mercy upon his knees? +Side by side with grim Defeat, he struggles at dusk or dawn,-- +His fight is lost--and he knows it is lost--and yet he is fighting on. + +Praise for the warriors who succeed, and tears for the vanquished dead; +The world will hold them close to her heart, wreathing each honored head, +But there in the ranks, soul-sick, time-tried, he battles against the odds, +_Sans_ hope, but true to his colors torn, the plaything of the gods! +Uncover when he goes by, at last! Held to his task by _will_ +The fight is lost--and he knows it is lost--and yet he is fighting still! + + +_Everard Jack Appleton._ + +From "The Quiet Courage." + + + + +DUTY + + +In a single sentence Emerson crystallizes the faith that nothing is +impossible to those whose guide is duty. His words, though spoken +primarily of youth, apply to the whole of human life. + + + So nigh is grandeur to our dust, + So near is God to man, + When duty whispers low, _Thou must_, + The youth replies, _I can_. + + +_Ralph Waldo Emerson._ + + + + +THE CALL OF THE UNBEATEN + + +P.T. Barnum had shrewdness, inventiveness, hair-trigger readiness in +acting or deciding, an eye for hidden possibilities, an instinct for +determining beforehand what would prove popular. All these qualities +helped him in his original and extraordinary career. But the quality he +valued most highly was the one he called "stick-to-it-iveness." This +completed the others. Without it the great showman could not have +succeeded at all. Nor did he think that any man who lacks it will make +much headway in life. + + + We know how rough the road will be, + How heavy here the load will be, + We know about the barricades that wait along the track; + But we have set our soul ahead + Upon a certain goal ahead + And nothing left from hell to sky shall ever turn us back. + + We know how brief all fame must be, + We know how crude the game must be, + We know how soon the cheering turns to jeering down the block; + But there's a deeper feeling here + That Fate can't scatter reeling here, + In knowing we have battled with the final ounce in stock. + + We sing of no wild glory now, + Emblazoning some story now + Of mighty charges down the field beyond some guarded pit; + But humbler tasks befalling us, + Set duties that are calling us, + Where nothing left from hell to sky shall ever make us quit. + + +_Grantland Rice._ + +From "The Sportlight." + + + + +POLONIUS'S ADVICE TO LAERTES + + +A father's advice to his son how to conduct himself in the world: Don't +tell all you think, or put into action thoughts out of harmony or +proportion with the occasion. Be friendly, but not common; don't dull +your palm by effusively shaking hands with every chance newcomer. Avoid +quarrels if you can, but if they are forced on you, give a good account +of yourself. Hear every man's censure (opinion), but express your own +ideas to few. Dress well, but not ostentatiously. Neither borrow nor +lend. And guarantee yourself against being false to others by setting up +the high moral principle of being true to yourself. + + + Give thy thoughts no tongue, + Nor any unproportion'd thought his act. + Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar; + The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, + Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel; + But do not dull thy palm with entertainment + Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware + Of entrance to a quarrel, but, being in, + Bear 't that th' opposed may beware of thee. + Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice; + Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. + Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, + But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy; + For the apparel oft proclaims the man. + + * * * * * + + Neither a borrower, nor a lender be; + For loan oft loses both itself and friend, + And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. + This above all: to thine own self be true, + And it must follow, as the night the day, + Thou canst not then be false to any man. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +HOW DO YOU TACKLE YOUR WORK? + + +It would be foolish to begin digging a tunnel through a mountain with a +mere pick and spade. We must assemble for the task great mechanical +contrivances. And so with our energies of will; a slight tool means a +slight achievement; a huge, aggressive engine, driving on at full blast, +means corresponding bigness of results. + + + How do you tackle your work each day? + Are you scared of the job you find? + Do you grapple the task that comes your way + With a confident, easy mind? + Do you stand right up to the work ahead + Or fearfully pause to view it? + Do you start to toil with a sense of dread + Or feel that you're going to do it? + + You can do as much as you think you can, + But you'll never accomplish more; + If you're afraid of yourself, young man, + There's little for you in store. + For failure comes from the inside first, + It's there if we only knew it, + And you can win, though you face the worst, + If you feel that you're going to do it. + + Success! It's found in the soul of you, + And not in the realm of luck! + The world will furnish the work to do, + But you must provide the pluck. + You can do whatever you think you can, + It's all in the way you view it. + It's all in the start you make, young man: + You must feel that you're going to do it. + + How do you tackle your work each day? + With confidence clear, or dread? + What to yourself do you stop and say + When a new task lies ahead? + What is the thought that is in your mind? + Is fear ever running through it? + If so, just tackle the next you find + By thinking you're going to do it. + + +_Edgar A. Guest._ + +From "A Heap o' Livin'." + + + + +MAN OR MANIKIN + + +The world does not always distinguish between appearance and true merit. +Pretence often gets the plaudits, but desert is above them--it has +rewards of its own. + + + No matter whence you came, from a palace or a ditch, + You're a man, man, man, if you square yourself to life; + And no matter what they say, hermit-poor or Midas-rich, + You are nothing but a husk if you sidestep strife. + + For it's do, do, do, with a purpose all your own, + That makes a man a man, whether born a serf or king; + And it's loaf, loaf, loaf, lolling on a bench or throne + That makes a being thewed to act a limp and useless thing! + + No matter what you do, miracles or fruitless deeds, + You're a man, man, man, if you do them with a will; + And no matter how you loaf, cursing wealth or mumbling creeds, + You are nothing but a noise, and its weight is nil. + + For it's be, be, be, champion of your heart and soul, + That makes a man a man, whether reared in silk or rags; + And it's talk, talk, talk, from a tattered shirt or stole, + That makes the image of a god a manikin that brags. + + +_Richard Butler Glaenzer._ + +From "Munsey's Magazine." + + + + +HAVING DONE AND DOING + +(ADAPTED FROM "TROILUS AND CRESSIDA") + + +A member of Parliament, having succeeded notably in his maiden effort at +speech-making, remained silent through the rest of his career lest he +should not duplicate his triumph. This course was stupid; in time the +address which had brought him fame became a theme for disparagement and +mockery. A man cannot rest upon his laurels, else he will soon lack the +laurels to rest on. If he has true ability, he must from time to time +show it, instead of asking us to recall what he did in the past. There +is a natural instinct which makes the whole world kin. It is distrust of +a mere reputation. It is a hankering to be shown. Unless the evidence to +set us right is forthcoming, we will praise dust which is gilded over +rather than gold which is dusty from disuse. + + + Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, + Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, + A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: + Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devoured + As fast as they are made, forgot as soon + As done: perseverance, dear my lord, + Keeps honor bright: to have done, is to hang + Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail + In monumental mockery. Take the instant way; + For honor travels in a strait so narrow + Where one but goes abreast: keep, then, the path; + For emulation hath a thousand sons + That one by one pursue: if you give way, + Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, + Like to an entered tide they all rush by + And leave you hindmost; + Or, like a gallant horse fallen in first rank, + Lie there for pavement to the abject rear, + O'errun and trampled on: then what they do in present, + Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours; + For time is like a fashionable host, + That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, + And with his arms outstretched, as he would fly, + Grasps in the comer: welcome ever smiles, + And farewell goes out sighing. O! let not virtue seek + Remuneration for the thing it was; for beauty, wit, + High birth, vigor of bone, desert in service, + Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all + To envious and calumniating time. + One touch of nature makes the whole world kin, + That all with one consent praise new-born gawds, + Though they are made and moulded of things past, + And give to dust that is a little gilt + More laud than gilt o'er-dusted. + The present eye praises the present object, + Since things in motion sooner catch the eye + Than what not stirs. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +FAITH + + +Faith is not a passive thing--mere believing or waiting. It is an active +thing--a positive striving and achievement, even if conditions be +untoward. + + + Faith is not merely praying + Upon your knees at night; + Faith is not merely straying + Through darkness to the light. + + Faith is not merely waiting + For glory that may be, + Faith is not merely hating + The sinful ecstasy. + + Faith is the brave endeavor + The splendid enterprise, + The strength to serve, whatever + Conditions may arise. + + +_S.E. Kiser._ + + + + +OPPORTUNITY + + +What is opportunity? To the brilliant mind of Senator Ingalls it is a +stupendous piece of luck. It comes once and once only to every human +being, wise or foolish, good or wicked. If it be not perceived on the +instant, it passes by forever. No longing for it, no effort, can bring +it back. Notice that this view is fatalistic; it makes opportunity an +external thing--one that enriches men or leaves their lives empty +without much regard to what they deserve. + + + Master of human destinies am I! + Fame, love, and fortune on my footsteps wait. + Cities and fields I walk; I penetrate + Deserts and seas remote, and passing by + Hovel and mart and palace--soon or late + I knock, unbidden, once at every gate! + If sleeping, wake--if feasting, rise before + I turn away. It is the hour of fate, + And they who follow me reach every state + Mortals desire, and conquer every foe + Save death; but those who doubt or hesitate, + Condemned to failure, penury, and woe, + Seek me in vain and uselessly implore. + I answer not, and I return no more! + + +_John James Ingalls._ + + + + +OPPORTUNITY + + +There is a tide in the affairs of men, +Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; +Omitted, all the voyage of their life +Is bound in shallows and in miseries. +On such a full sea are we now afloat; +And we must take the current when it serves, +Or lose our ventures. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +OPPORTUNITY + + +To the thought of the preceding poem we have here a direct answer. No +matter how a man may have failed in the past, the door of opportunity is +always open to him. He should not give way to useless regrets; he should +know that the future is within his control, that it will be what he +chooses to make it. + + + They do me wrong who say I come no more + When once I knock and fail to find you in; + For every day I stand outside your door, + And bid you wake, and rise to fight and win. + + Wail not for precious chances passed away, + Weep not for golden ages on the wane! + Each night I burn the records of the day,-- + At sunrise every soul is born again! + + Laugh like a boy at splendors that have sped, + To vanished joys be blind and deaf and dumb; + My judgments seal the dead past with its dead, + But never bind a moment yet to come. + + Though deep in mire, wring not your hands and weep; + I lend my arm to all who say "I can!" + No shame-faced outcast ever sank so deep, + But yet might rise and be again a man! + + Dost thou behold thy lost youth all aghast? + Dost reel from righteous Retribution's blow? + Then turn from blotted archives of the past, + And find the future's pages white as snow. + + Art thou a mourner? Rouse thee from thy spell; + Art thou a sinner? Sins may be forgiven; + Each morning gives thee wings to flee from hell, + Each night a star to guide thy feet to heaven. + + +_Walter Malone._ + + + + +OPPORTUNITY + + +In this poem yet another view of opportunity is presented. The recreant +or the dreamer complains that he has no real chance. He would succeed, +he says, if he had but the implements of success--money, influence, +social prestige, and the like. But success lies far less in implements +than in the use we make of them. What one man throws away as useless, +another man seizes as the best means of victory at hand. For every one +of us the materials for achievement are sufficient. The spirit that +prompts us is what ultimately counts. + + + This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream:-- + There spread a cloud of dust along a plain; + And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged + A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords + Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince's banner + Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes. + A craven hung along the battle's edge, + And thought, "Had I a sword of keener steel-- + That blue blade that the king's son bears,--but this + Blunt thing--!" he snapt and flung it from his hand, + And lowering crept away and left the field. + Then came the king's son, wounded, sore bestead, + And weaponless, and saw the broken sword, + Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand, + And ran and snatched it, and with battle-shout + Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down, + And saved a great cause that heroic day. + + +_Edward Rowland Sill._ + +From "Poems." + + + +[Illustration: JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY] + + + + +MY PHILOSOPHY + + +Though dogs persist in barking at the moon, the moon's business is not +to answer the dogs or to waste strength placating them, but simply to +shine. The man who strives or succeeds is sure to be criticized. Is he +therefore to abstain from all effort? We are responsible for our own +lives and cannot regulate them according to other people's ideas. "Whoso +would be a man," says Emerson, "must be a nonconformist." + + + I allus argy that a man + Who does about the best he can + Is plenty good enugh to suit + This lower mundane institute-- + No matter ef his daily walk + Is subject fer his neghbor's talk, + And critic-minds of ev'ry whim + Jest all git up and go fer him! + + * * * * * + + It's natchurl enugh, I guess, + When some gits more and some gits less, + Fer them-uns on the slimmest side + To claim it ain't a fare divide; + And I've knowed some to lay and wait, + And git up soon, and set up late, + To ketch some feller they could hate + For goin' at a faster gait. + + * * * * * + + My doctern is to lay aside + Contensions, and be satisfied: + Jest do your best, and praise er blame + That follers that, counts jest the same. + I've allus noticed grate success + Is mixed with troubles, more er less, + And it's the man who does the best + That gits more kicks than all the rest. + + +_James Whitcomb Riley._ + +From the Biographical Edition +Of the Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley. + + + + +ULYSSES + + +This volume consists chiefly of contemporary or very recent verse. But +it could not serve its full purpose without the presence, here and +there, of older poems--of "classics." These express a truth, a mood, or +a spirit that is universal, and they express it in words of noble +dignity and beauty. They are not always easy to understand; they are +crops we must patiently cultivate, not crops that volunteer. But they +wear well; they grow upon us; we come back to them again and again, and +still they are fresh, living, significant--not empty, meaningless, and +weather-worn, like a last year's crow's nest. + +Such a poem is _Ulysses_. It is shot through and through with the spirit +of strenuous and never-ceasing endeavor--a spirit manifest in a hero who +has every temptation to rest and enjoy. Ulysses is old. After ten long +years of warfare before Troy, after endless misfortunes on his homeward +voyage, after travels and experiences that have taken him everywhere and +shown him everything that men know and do, he has returned to his rude +native kingdom. He is reunited with his wife Penelope and his son +Telemachus. He is rich and famous. Yet he is unsatisfied. The task and +routine of governing a slow, materially minded people, though suited to +his son's temperament, are unsuited to his. He wants to wear out rather +than to rust out. He wants to discover what the world still holds. He +wants to drink life to the lees. The morning has passed, the long day +has waned, twilight and the darkness are at hand. But scant as are the +years left to him, he will use them in a last, incomparable quest. He +rallies his old comrades--tried men who always + + "With a frolic welcome took + The thunder and the sunshine"-- + +and asks them to brave with him once more the hazards and the hardships +of the life of vast; unsubdued enterprise. + + + It little profits that an idle king, + By this still hearth, among these barren crags, + Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole + Unequal laws unto a savage race, + That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me. + I cannot rest from travel; I will drink + Life to the lees. All times I have enjoy'd + Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those + That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when + Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades + Vext the dim sea. I am become a name; + For always roaming with a hungry heart + Much have I seen and known,--cities of men + And manners, climates, councils, governments, + Myself not least, but honor'd of them all,-- + And drunk delight of battle with my peers, + Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. + I am a part of all that I have met; + Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' + Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades + For ever and for ever when I move. + How dull it is to pause, to make an end, + To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use! + As tho' to breathe were life! Life piled on life + Were all too little, and of one to me + Little remains; but every hour is saved + From that eternal silence, something more, + A bringer of new things; and vile it were + For some three suns to store and hoard myself, + And this gray spirit yearning in desire + To follow knowledge like a sinking star, + Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. + This is my son, mine own Telemachus, + To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle,-- + Well-beloved of me, discerning to fulfil + This labor, by slow prudence to make mild + A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees + Subdue them to the useful and the good. + Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere + Of common duties, decent not to fail + In offices of tenderness, and pay + Meet adoration to my household gods, + When I am gone. He works his work, I mine. + There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail; + There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners, + Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me,-- + That ever with a frolic welcome took + The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed + Free hearts, free foreheads,--you and I are old; + Old age hath yet his honor and his toil. + Death closes all; but something ere the end, + Some work of noble note, may yet be done, + Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods. + The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks; + The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep + Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends. + 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. + Push off, and sitting well in order smite + The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds + To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths + Of all the western stars, until I die. + It may be that the gulfs will wash us down; + It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, + And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. + Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho' + We are not now that strength which in old days + Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,-- + One equal temper of heroic hearts, + Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will + To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. + + +_Alfred Tennyson._ + + + + +PREPAREDNESS + + + For all your days prepare, + And meet them ever alike: + When you are the anvil, bear-- + When you are the hammer, strike. + + +_Edwin Markham._ + +From "The Gates of Paradise, and Other Poems." + + + + +THE WISDOM OF FOLLY + + + "Jog on, jog on, the footpath way, + And merrily hent the stile-a: + A merry heart goes all the day, + Your sad tires in a mile-a." + +Shakespeare's lilting stanza conveys a great truth--the power of +cheerfulness to give impetus and endurance. The _a_ at the end of lines +is merely an addition in singing; the word _hent_ means take. + + + The cynics say that every rose + Is guarded by a thorn which grows + To spoil our posies; + But I no pleasure therefore lack; + I keep my hands behind my back + When smelling roses. + + Though outwardly a gloomy shroud + The inner half of every cloud + Is bright and shining: + I therefore turn my clouds about, + And always wear them inside out + To show the lining. + + My modus operandi this-- + To take no heed of what's amiss; + And not a bad one; + Because, as Shakespeare used to say, + A merry heart goes twice the way + That tires a sad one. + + +_Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler. +(The Honorable Mrs. Alfred Felkin.)_ + +From "Verses Wise and Otherwise." + + + + +SEE IT THROUGH + + +An American traveler in Italy stood watching a lumberman who, as the +logs floated down a swift mountain stream, jabbed his hook in an +occasional one and drew it carefully aside. "Why do you pick out those +few?" the traveler asked. "They all look alike." "But they are not +alike, seignior. The logs I let pass have grown on the side of a +mountain, where they have been protected all their lives. Their grain is +coarse; they are good only for lumber. But these logs, seignior, grew on +the top of the mountain. From the time they were sprouts and saplings +they were lashed and buffeted by the winds, and so they grew strong with +fine grain. We save them for choice work; they are not 'lumber,' +seignior." + + + When you're up against a trouble, + Meet it squarely, face to face; + Lift your chin and set your shoulders, + Plant your feet and take a brace. + When it's vain to try to dodge it, + Do the best that you can do; + You may fail, but you may conquer, + See it through! + + Black may be the clouds about you + And your future may seem grim, + But don't let your nerve desert you; + Keep yourself in fighting trim. + If the worse is bound to happen, + Spite of all that you can do, + Running from it will not save you, + See it through! + + Even hope may seem but futile, + When with troubles you're beset, + But remember you are facing + Just what other men have met. + You may fail, but fall still fighting; + Don't give up, whate'er you do; + Eyes front, head high to the finish. + See it through! + + +_Edgar A. Guest._ + +From "Just Folks." + + + + +DECEMBER 31 + + +If January 1 is an ideal time for renewed consecration, December 31 is +an ideal time for thankful reminiscence. The year has not brought us +everything we might have hoped, but neither has it involved us in +everything we might have feared. Many are the perils, the failures, the +miseries we have escaped, and life to us is still gracious and wholesome +and filled to the brim with satisfaction. + + + Best day of all the year, since I + May see thee pass and know + That if thou dost not leave me high + Thou hast not found me low, + And since, as I behold thee die, + Thou leavest me the right to say + That I to-morrow still may vie + With them that keep the upward way. + + Best day of all the year to me, + Since I may stand and gaze + Across the grayish past and see + So many crooked ways + That might have led to misery, + Or might have ended at Disgrace-- + Best day since thou dost leave me free + To look the future in the face. + + Best day of all days of the year, + That was so kind, so good, + Since thou dost leave me still the dear + Old faith in brotherhood-- + Best day since I, still striving here, + May view the past with small regret, + And, undisturbed by doubts or fear, + Seeks paths that are untrod as yet. + + +_S.E. Kiser._ + + + + +RING OUT, WILD BELLS + + +This great New Year's piece belongs almost as well to every day in the +year, since it expresses a social ideal of justice and happiness. + + + Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, + The flying cloud, the frosty light: + The year is dying in the night; + Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. + + Ring out the old, ring in the new, + Ring, happy bells, across the snow: + The year is going, let him go; + Ring out the false, ring in the true. + + Ring out the grief that saps the mind, + For those that here we see no more; + Ring out the feud of rich and poor, + Ring in redress to all mankind. + + Ring out a slowly dying cause, + And ancient forms of party strife; + Ring in the nobler modes of life, + With sweeter manners, purer laws. + + Ring out the want, the care, the sin, + The faithless coldness of the times; + Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, + But ring the fuller minstrel in. + + Ring out false pride in place and blood, + The civic slander and the spite; + Ring in the love of truth and right, + Ring in the common love of good. + + Ring out old shapes of foul disease; + Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; + Ring out the thousand wars of old, + Ring in the thousand years of peace. + + Ring in the valiant man and free, + The larger heart, the kindlier hand; + Ring out the darkness of the land, + Ring in the Christ that is to be. + + +_Alfred Tennyson._ + + + +[Illustration: HENRY VAN DYKE] + + + + +WORK + + +The dog that dropped his bone to snap at its reflection in the water +went dinnerless. So do we often lose the substance--the joy--of our work +by longing for tasks we think better fitted to our capabilities. + + + Let me but do my work from day to day, + In field or forest, at the desk or loom, + In roaring market-place or tranquil room; + Let me but find it in my heart to say, + When vagrant wishes beckon me astray, + "This is my work; my blessing, not my doom; + Of all who live, I am the one by whom + This work can best be done in the right way." + + Then shall I see it not too great, nor small + To suit my spirit and to prove my powers; + Then shall I cheerful greet the laboring hours, + And cheerful turn, when the long shadows fall + At eventide, to play and love and rest, + Because I know for me my work is best. + + +_Henry Van Dyke._ + +From "Collected Poems." + + + + +START WHERE YOU STAND + + +When a man who had been in the penitentiary applied to Henry Ford for +employment, he started to tell Mr. Ford his story. "Never mind," said +Mr. Ford, "I don't care about the past. Start where you stand!"--Author's +note. + + + Start where you stand and never mind the past, + The past won't help you in beginning new, + If you have left it all behind at last + Why, that's enough, you're done with it, you're through; + This is another chapter in the book, + This is another race that you have planned, + Don't give the vanished days a backward look, + Start where you stand. + + The world won't care about your old defeats + If you can start anew and win success, + The future is your time, and time is fleet + And there is much of work and strain and stress; + Forget the buried woes and dead despairs, + Here is a brand new trial right at hand, + The future is for him who does and dares, + Start where you stand. + + Old failures will not halt, old triumphs aid, + To-day's the thing, to-morrow soon will be; + Get in the fight and face it unafraid, + And leave the past to ancient history; + What has been, has been; yesterday is dead + And by it you are neither blessed nor banned, + Take courage, man, be brave and drive ahead, + Start where you stand. + + +_Berton Braley._ + +From "A Banjo at Armageddon." + + + + +A HOPEFUL BROTHER + + +A Cripple Creek miner remarked that he had hunted for gold for +twenty-five years. He was asked how much he had found. "None," he +replied, "but the prospects are good." + + + Ef you ask him, day or night, + When the worl' warn't runnin' right, + "Anything that's good in sight?" + This is allus what he'd say, + In his uncomplainin' way-- + "Well, I'm hopin'." + + When the winter days waz nigh, + An' the clouds froze in the sky, + Never sot him down to sigh, + But, still singin' on his way, + He'd stop long enough to say-- + "Well, I'm hopin'." + + Dyin', asked of him that night + (Sperrit waitin' fer its flight), + "Brother, air yer prospec's bright?" + An'--last words they heard him say, + In the ol', sweet, cheerful way-- + "Well, I'm hopin'." + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +"The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +A SONG OF THANKSGIVING + + +We should have grateful spirits, not merely for personal benefits, but +also for the right to sympathize, to understand, to help, to trust, to +struggle, to aspire. + + + Thank God I can rejoice + In human things--the multitude's glad voice, + The street's warm surge beneath the city light, + The rush of hurrying faces on my sight, + The million-celled emotion in the press + That would their human fellowship confess. + Thank Thee because I may my brother feed, + That Thou hast opened me unto his need, + Kept me from being callous, cold and blind, + Taught me the melody of being kind. + Thus, for my own and for my brother's sake-- + Thank Thee I am awake! + + Thank Thee that I can trust! + That though a thousand times I feel the thrust + Of faith betrayed, I still have faith in man, + Believe him pure and good since time began-- + Thy child forever, though he may forget + The perfect mould in which his soul was set. + Thank Thee that when love dies, fresh love springs up. + New wonders pour from Heaven's cup. + Young to my soul the ancient need returns, + Immortal in my heart the ardor burns; + My altar fires replenished from above-- + Thank Thee that I can love! + + Thank Thee that I can hear, + Finely and keenly with the inner ear, + Below the rush and clamor of a throng + The mighty music of the under-song. + And when the day has journeyed to its rest, + Lo, as I listen, from the amber west, + Where the great organ lifts its glowing spires, + There sounds the chanting of the unseen choirs. + Thank Thee for sight that shows the hidden flame + Beneath all breathing, throbbing things the same, + Thy Pulse the pattern of the thing to be.... + Thank Thee that I can see! + + Thank Thee that I can feel! + That though life's blade be terrible as steel, + My soul is stript and naked to the fang, + I crave the stab of beauty and the pang. + _To be alive, + To think, to yearn, to strive,_ + To suffer torture when the goal is wrong, + To be sent back and fashioned strong + Rejoicing in the lesson that was taught + By all the good the grim experience wrought; + At last, exulting, to _arrive_.... + Thank God I am alive! + + +_Angela Morgan._ + +From "The Hour Has Struck." + + + + +LOSE THE DAY LOITERING + + +Anything is hard to begin, whether it be taking a cold bath, writing a +letter, clearing up a misunderstanding, or falling to on the day's work. +Yet "a thing begun is half done." No matter how unpleasant a thing is to +do, begin it and immediately it becomes less unpleasant. Form the +excellent habit of making a start. + + + Lose the day loitering, 'twill be the same story + To-morrow, and the next more dilatory, + For indecision brings its own delays, + And days are lost lamenting o'er lost days. + Are you in earnest? Seize this very minute! + What you can do, or think you can, begin it! + Only engage, and then the mind grows heated; + Begin it, and the work will be completed. + + +_Johann Wolfgang von Goethe._ + + + + +PLAYING THE GAME + + +We don't like the man who whines that the cards were stacked against him +or that the umpire cheated. We admire the chap who, when he must take +his medicine, takes it cheerfully, bravely. To play the game steadily is +a merit, whether the game be a straight one or crooked. A thoroughbred, +even though bad, has more of our respect than the craven who cleaves to +the proprieties solely from fear to violate them. It has well been said: +"The mistakes which make us men are better than the accuracies that keep +us children." + + + Yes, he went an' stole our steers, + So, of course, he had to die; + I ain't sheddin' any tears, + But, when I cash in--say, I + Want to take it like that guy-- + Laughin', jokin', with the rest, + Not a whimper, not a cry, + Standin' up to meet the test + Till we swung him clear an' high, + With his face turned toward the west! + + Here's the way it looks to me; + Cattle thief's no thing to be, + But if you take up that trade, + Be the best one ever made; + If you've got a thing to do + Do it strong an' SEE IT THROUGH! + + That was him! He played the game, + Took his chances, bet his hand, + When at last the showdown came + An' he lost, he kept his sand; + Didn't weep an' didn't pray, + Didn't waver er repent, + Simply tossed his cards away, + Knowin' well just what it meant. + Never claimed the deck was stacked, + Never called the game a snide, + Acted like a man should act, + Took his medicine--an' died! + + So I say it here again, + What I think is true of men; + They should try to do what's right, + Fair an' square an' clean an' white, + But, whatever is their line, + Bad er good er foul er fine, + Let 'em go the Limit, play + Like a plunger, that's the way! + + +_Berton Braley._ + +From "Songs of the Workaday World." + + + +[Illustration: CHARLOTTE PERKINS GILMAN] + + + + +RESOLVE + + +There are some things we should all resolve to do. What are they? Any +one may make a list for himself. It would be interesting to compare it +with the one here given by the poet. + + + To keep my health! + To do my work! + To live! + To see to it I grow and gain and give! + Never to look behind me for an hour! + To wait in weakness, and to walk in power; + But always fronting onward to the light, + Always and always facing towards the right. + Robbed, starved, defeated, fallen, wide astray-- + On, with what strength I have! + Back to the way! + + +_Charlotte Perkins Gilman._ + +From "In This Our World." + + + + +WHEN NATURE WANTS A MAN + + +Only melting and hammering can shape and temper steel for fine use. Only +struggle and suffering can give a man the qualities that enable him to +render large service to humanity. Lincoln was born in a log cabin. He +split rails, and conned a few books by the firelight in the evening. He +became a backwoods lawyer with apparently no advantages or encouraging +prospects. But all the while he had his visions, which ever became +nobler; and the adversities he knew but gave him the deeper sympathy for +others and the wider and steadier outlook on human problems. Thus when +the supreme need arose, Lincoln was ready--harsh-visaged nature had done +its work of moulding and preparing a man. + + + When Nature wants to drill a man + And thrill a man, + And skill a man, + When Nature wants to mould a man + To play the noblest part; + When she yearns with all her heart + To create so great and bold a man + That all the world shall praise-- + Watch her method, watch her ways! + How she ruthlessly perfects + Whom she royally elects; + How she hammers him and hurts him + And with mighty blows converts him + Into trial shapes of clay which only Nature understands-- + While his tortured heart is crying and he lifts beseeching hands!-- + How she bends, but never breaks, + When his good she undertakes.... + How she uses whom she chooses + And with every purpose fuses him, + By every art induces him + To try his splendor out-- + Nature knows what she's about. + + When Nature wants to take a man + And shake a man + And wake a man; + When Nature wants to make a man + To do the Future's will; + When she tries with all her skill + And she yearns with all her soul + To create him large and whole.... + With what cunning she prepares him! + How she goads and never spares him, + How she whets him and she frets him + And in poverty begets him.... + How she often disappoints + Whom she sacredly anoints, + With what wisdom she will hide him, + Never minding what betide him + Though his genius sob with slighting and his pride may not forget! + Bids him struggle harder yet. + Makes him lonely + So that only + God's high messages shall reach him + So that she may surely teach him + What the Hierarchy planned. + Though he may not understand + Gives him passions to command-- + How remorselessly she spurs him, + With terrific ardor stirs him + When she poignantly prefers him! + + When Nature wants to name a man + And fame a man + And tame a man; + When Nature wants to shame a man + To do his heavenly best.... + When she tries the highest test + That her reckoning may bring-- + When she wants a god or king!-- + How she reins him and restrains him + So his body scarce contains him + While she fires him + And inspires him! + Keeps him yearning, ever burning for a tantalising goal-- + Lures and lacerates his soul. + Sets a challenge for his spirit, + Draws it higher when he's near it-- + Makes a jungle, that he clear it; + Makes a desert, that he fear it + And subdue it if he can-- + So doth Nature make a man. + Then, to test his spirit's wrath + Hurls a mountain in his path-- + Puts a bitter choice before him + And relentless stands o'er him. + "Climb, or perish!" so she says.... + Watch her purpose, watch her ways! + + Nature's plan is wondrous kind + Could we understand her mind ... + Fools are they who call her blind. + When his feet are torn and bleeding + Yet his spirit mounts unheeding, + All his higher powers speeding + Blazing newer paths and fine; + When the force that is divine + Leaps to challenge every failure and his ardor still is sweet + And love and hope are burning in the presence of defeat.... + Lo, the crisis! Lo, the shout + That must call the leader out. + When the people need salvation + Doth he come to lead the nation.... + Then doth Nature show her plan + When the world has found--a man! + + +_Angela Morgan._ + +From "Forward, March!" + + + + +ORDER AND THE BEES + +(FROM "HENRY V.") + + +We often wish that we might do some other man's work, occupy his social +or political station. But such an interchange is not easy. The world is +complex, and its adjustments have come from long years of experience. +Each man does well to perform the tasks for which nature and training +have fitted him. And instead of feeling envy toward other people, we +should rejoice that all labor, however diverse, is to one great end--it +makes life richer and fuller. + + + Therefore doth heaven divide + The state of man in divers functions, + Setting endeavor in continual motion; + To which is fixéd, as an aim or butt, + Obedience: for so work the honey-bees, + Creatures that by a rule in nature teach + The act of order to a peopled kingdom. + They have a king and officers of sorts; + Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, + Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, + Others, like soldiers, arméd in their stings, + Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds; + Which pillage they with merry march bring home + To the tent-royal of their emperor: + Who, busied in his majesty, surveys + The singing masons building roofs of gold, + The civil citizens kneading up the honey, + The poor mechanic porters crowding in + Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate, + The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum, + Delivering o'er to executors pale + The lazy yawning drone. I this infer, + That many things, having full reference + To one consent, may work contrariously. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +SELF-DEPENDENCE + + +One star does not ask another to adore it or amuse it; Mt. Shasta, +though it towers for thousands of feet above its neighbors, does not +repine that it is alone or that the adjacent peaks see much that it +misses under the clouds. Nature does not trouble itself about what the +rest of nature is doing. But man constantly worries about other +men--what they think of him, do to him, fail to emulate in him, have or +secure in comparison with him. He lacks nature's inward quietude. +Calmness and peace come by being self-contained. + + + Weary of myself, and sick of asking + What I am, and what I ought to be, + At this vessel's prow I stand, which bears me + Forwards, forwards, o'er the starlit sea. + + And a look of passionate desire + O'er the sea and to the stars I send: + "Ye who from my childhood up have calmed me, + Calm me, ah, compose me to the end! + + "Ah, once more," I cried, "ye stars, ye waters, + On my heart your mighty charm renew; + Still, still let me, as I gaze upon you, + Feel my soul becoming vast like you!" + + From the intense, clear, star-sown vault of heaven, + Over the lit sea's unquiet way, + In the rustling night-air came the answer: + "Wouldst thou BE as these are? LIVE as they. + + "Unaffrighted by the silence round them, + Undistracted by the sights they see, + These demand not that the things without them + Yield them love, amusement, sympathy. + + "And with joy the stars perform their shining, + And the sea its long, moon-silver'd roll; + For self-poised they live, nor pine with noting + All the fever of some differing soul. + + "Bounded by themselves, and unregardful + In what state God's other works may be, + In their own tasks all their powers pouring, + These attain the mighty life you see." + + O air-born voice! long since, severely clear, + A cry like thine in mine own heart I hear: + "Resolve to be thyself; and know that he + Who finds himself, loses his misery!" + + +_Matthew Arnold._ + + + + +A LITTLE PRAYER + + +We should strive to bring what happiness we can to others. More still, +we should strive to bring them no unhappiness. When we come to die, it +is, as George Eliot once said, not our kindness or our patience or our +generosity that we shall regret, but our intolerance and our harshness. + + + That I may not in blindness grope, + But that I may with vision clear + Know when to speak a word of hope + Or add a little wholesome cheer. + + That tempered winds may softly blow + Where little children, thinly clad, + Sit dreaming, when the flame is low, + Of comforts they have never had. + + That through the year which lies ahead + No heart shall ache, no cheek be wet, + For any word that I have said + Or profit I have tried to get. + + +_S.E. Kiser._ + + + + +A MAN'S A MAN FOR A' THAT + + +It is said that once at a laird's house Burns was placed at a second +table, and that this rankled in his breast and caused him to write his +poem on equality. He insists that rank, wealth, and external +distinctions are merely the stamp on the guinea; the man is the gold +itself. Snobbishness he abhors; poverty he confesses to without hanging +his head in the least; the pith of sense and the pride of worth he +declares superior to any dignity thrust upon a person from the outside. +In a final, prophetic mood he looks forward to the time when a democracy +of square dealing shall prevail, praise shall be reserved for merit, and +men the world over shall be to each other as brothers. In line 8 +gowd=gold; 9, hamely=homely, commonplace; 11, gie=give; 15, sae=so; 17, +birkie=fellow; 20, cuif=simpleton; 25, mak=make; 27, aboon=above; 28, +mauna=must not; fa'=acclaim; 36, gree=prize. + + + Is there, for honest poverty, + That hangs his head, and a' that? + The coward-slave, we pass him by, + We dare be poor for a' that! + For a' that, and a' that, + Our toils obscure, and a' that; + The rank is but the guinea stamp; + The man's the gowd for a' that. + + What tho' on hamely fare we dine, + Wear hodden-gray, and a' that; + Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, + A man's a man for a' that. + For a' that, and a' that, + Their tinsel show, and a' that; + The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor, + Is King o' men for a' that. + + Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord, + Wha struts, and stares, and a' that; + Tho' hundreds worship at his word, + He's but a cuif for a' that: + For a' that, and a' that. + His riband, star, and a' that, + The man of independent mind, + He looks and laughs at a' that. + + A prince can mak a belted knight, + A marquis, duke, and a' that; + But an honest man's aboon his might, + Guid faith he mauna fa' that! + For a' that, and a' that, + Their dignities, and a' that, + The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, + Are higher rank than a' that. + + Then let us pray that come it may, + As come it will for a' that; + That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, + May bear the gree, and a' that. + For a' that and a' that, + It's coming yet, for a' that, + That man to man the warld o'er + Shall brothers be for a' that. + + +_Robert Burns._ + + + + +LIFE AND DEATH + + + Life! I know not what thou art, + But know that thou and I must part; + And when, or how, or where we met + I own to me a secret yet. + + Life! We've been long together, + Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; + 'Tis hard to part when friends are dear; + Perhaps will cost a sigh, a tear; + Then steal away, give little warning, + Choose thine own time; + Say not "Good Night"--but in some brighter clime, + Bid me "Good Morning!" + + +_Anna Barbauld._ + + + + +LIFE AND DEATH + + +Many a man would die for wife and children, for faith, for country. But +would he live for them? That, often, is the more heroic course--and the +more sensible. A rich man was hiring a driver for his carriage. He asked +each applicant how close he could drive to a precipice without toppling +over. "One foot," "Six inches," "Three inches," ran the replies. But an +Irishman declared, "Faith, and I'd keep as far away from the place as I +could." "Consider yourself employed," was the rich man's comment. + + + So he died for his faith. That is fine-- + More than most of us do. + But stay, can you add to that line + That he lived for it, too? + + In death he bore witness at last + As a martyr to truth. + Did his life do the same in the past + From the days of his youth? + + It is easy to die. Men have died + For a wish or a whim-- + From bravado or passion or pride. + Was it harder for him? + + But to live: every day to live out + All the truth that he dreamt, + While his friends met his conduct with doubt, + And the world with contempt-- + + Was it thus that he plodded ahead, + Never turning aside? + Then we'll talk of the life that he led-- + Never mind how he died. + + +_Ernest H. Crosby_ + +From "Swords and Ploughshares." + + + + +ON BEING READY + + +At nightfall after bloody Antietam Lee's army, outnumbered and exhausted, +lay with the Potomac at its back. So serious was the situation that all +the subordinate officers advised retreat. But Lee, though too maimed to +attack, would not leave the field save of his own volition. "If +McClellan wants a battle," he declared, "he can have it." McClellan +hesitated, and through the whole of the next day kept his great army +idle. The effect upon the morale of the two forces, and the two +governments, can be imagined. + + + The man who is there with the wallop and punch + The one who is trained to the minute, + May well be around when the trouble begins, + But you seldom will find he is in it; + For they let him alone when they know he is there + For any set part in the ramble, + To pick out the one who is shrinking and soft + And not quite attuned to the scramble. + + The one who is fixed for whatever they start + Is rarely expected to prove it; + They pass him along for the next shot in sight + Where they take a full wind-up and groove it; + For who wants to pick on a bulldog or such + Where a quivering poodle is handy, + When he knows he can win with a kick or a brick + With no further trouble to bandy? + + +_Grantland Rice._ + +From "The Sportlight." + + + + +TWO AT A FIRESIDE + + + I built a chimney for a comrade old, + I did the service not for hope or hire-- + And then I traveled on in winter's cold, + Yet all the day I glowed before the fire. + + +_Edwin Markham._ + +From "The Man with the Hoe, and Other Poems." + + + + +TO-DAY + + +We often lose the happiness of to-day by brooding over the sorrows of +yesterday or fearing the troubles of to-morrow. This is exceedingly +foolish. There is always _some_ pleasure at hand; seize it, and at no +time will you be without pleasure. You cannot change the past, but your +spirit at this moment will in some measure shape your future. Live life, +therefore, in the present tense; do not miss the joys of to-day. + + + Sure, this world is full of trouble-- + I ain't said it ain't. + Lord! I've had enough, an' double, + Reason for complaint. + Rain an' storm have come to fret me, + Skies were often gray; + Thorns an' brambles have beset me + On the road--but, say, + Ain't it fine to-day? + + What's the use of always weepin', + Makin' trouble last? + What's the use of always keepin' + Thinkin' of the past? + Each must have his tribulation, + Water with his wine. + Life it ain't no celebration. + Trouble? I've had mine-- + But to-day is fine. + + It's to-day that I am livin', + Not a month ago, + Havin', losin', takin', givin', + As time wills it so. + Yesterday a cloud of sorrow + Fell across the way; + It may rain again to-morrow, + It may rain--but, say, + Ain't it fine to-day! + + +_Douglas Malloch._ + + + + +THE ARROW AND THE SONG + + +We can calculate with fair accuracy the number of miles an automobile +will go in an hour. We can gauge pretty closely the amount of +merchandise a given sum of money will buy. But a good deed or a kind +impulse is not measurable. Their influence works in devious ways and +lives on when perhaps we can see them no more. + + + I shout an arrow into the air, + It fell to earth, I knew not where; + For, so swiftly it flew, the sight + Could not follow it in its flight. + + I breathed a song into the air, + It fell to earth, I knew not where; + For who has sight so keen and strong, + That it can follow the flight of song? + + Long, long afterward, in an oak + I found the arrow, still unbroke; + And the song, from beginning to end, + I found again in the heart of a friend. + + +_Henry Wadsworth Longfellow._ + + + + +THE INNER LIGHT + + + "Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just, + And he but naked, though locked up in steel, + Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted," + +says Shakespeare. But not only does a clear conscience give power; it +also gives light. With it we could sit at the center of the earth and +yet enjoy the sunshine. Without it we live in a rayless prison. + + + He that has light within his own clear breast + May sit i' the center, and enjoy bright day: + But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts + Benighted walks under the midday sun; + Himself is his own dungeon. + + +_John Milton._ + + + + +THE THINGS THAT HAVEN'T BEEN DONE BEFORE + + +It is said that if you hold a stick in front of the foremost sheep in a +flock that files down a trail in the mountains, he will jump it--and +that every sheep thereafter will jump when he reaches the spot, even if +the stick be removed. So are many people mere unthinking imitators, +blind to facts and opportunities about them. Kentucky could not be lived +in by the white race till Daniel Boone built his cabin there. The air +was not part of the domain of humanity till the Wright brothers made +themselves birdmen. + + + The things that haven't been done before, + Those are the things to try; + Columbus dreamed of an unknown shore + At the rim of the far-flung sky, + And his heart was bold and his faith was strong + As he ventured in dangers new, + And he paid no heed to the jeering throng + Or the fears of the doubting crew. + + The many will follow the beaten track + With guideposts on the way, + They live and have lived for ages back + With a chart for every day. + Someone has told them it's safe to go + On the road he has traveled o'er, + And all that they ever strive to know + Are the things that were known before. + + A few strike out, without map or chart, + Where never a man has been, + From the beaten paths they draw apart + To see what no man has seen. + There are deeds they hunger alone to do; + Though battered and bruised and sore, + They blaze the path for the many, who + Do nothing not done before. + + The things that haven't been done before + Are the tasks worth while to-day; + Are you one of the flock that follows, or + Are you one that shall lead the way? + Are you one of the timid souls that quail + At the jeers of a doubting crew, + Or dare you, whether you win or fail, + Strike out for a goal that's new? + + +_Edgar A. Guest._ + +From "A Heap o' Livin'." + + + + +THE HAS-BEENS + + + I read the papers every day, and oft encounter tales which show + there's hope for every jay who in life's battle fails. I've + just been reading of a gent who joined the has-been ranks, at + fifty years without a cent, or credit at the banks. But + undismayed he buckled down, refusing to be beat, and captured + fortune and renown; he's now on Easy Street. Men say that + fellows down and out ne'er leave the rocky track, but facts + will show, beyond a doubt, that has-beens do come back. I know, + for I who write this rhyme, when forty-odd years old, was down + and out, without a dime, my whiskers full of mold. By black + disaster I was trounced until it jarred my spine; I was a + failure so pronounced I didn't need a sign. And after I had + soaked my coat, I said (at forty-three), "I'll see if I can + catch the goat that has escaped from me." I labored hard; I + strained my dome, to do my daily grind, until in triumph I came + home, my billy-goat behind. And any man who still has health + may with the winners stack, and have a chance at fame and + wealth--for has-beens do come back. + + +_Walt Mason._ + +From "Walt Mason, His Book." + + + + +WISHING + + +Horace Greeley said that no one need fear the editor who indulged in +diatribes against the prevalence of polygamy in Utah, but that +malefactors had better look out when an editor took up his pen against +abuses in his own city. We all tend to begin our reforms too far away +from home. The man who wishes improvement strongly enough to set to work +on himself is the man who will obtain results. + + + Do you wish the world were better? + Let me tell you what to do. + Set a watch upon your actions, + Keep them always straight and true. + Rid your mind of selfish motives, + Let your thoughts be clean and high. + You can make a little Eden + Of the sphere you occupy. + + Do you wish the world were wiser? + Well, suppose you make a start, + By accumulating wisdom + In the scrapbook of your heart; + Do not waste one page on folly; + Live to learn, and learn to live. + If you want to give men knowledge + You must get it, ere you give. + + Do you wish the world were happy? + Then remember day by day + Just to scatter seeds of kindness + As you pass along the way, + For the pleasures of the many + May be ofttimes traced to one. + As the hand that plants an acorn + Shelters armies from the sun. + + +_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._ + +From "Poems of Power." + + + + +AWARENESS + + +A man must keep a keen sense of the drift and significance of what he is +engaged in if he is to make much headway. Yet many human beings are so +sunk in the routine of their work that they fail to realize what it is +all for. A man who was tapping with a hammer the wheels of a railroad +train remarked that he had been at the job for twenty-seven years. "What +do you do when a wheel doesn't sound right?" a passenger inquired. The +man was taken aback. "I never found one that sounded that way," said he. + + + God--let me be aware. + Let me not stumble blindly down the ways, + Just getting somehow safely through the days, + Not even groping for another hand, + Not even wondering why it all was planned, + Eyes to the ground unseeking for the light, + Soul never aching for a wild-winged flight, + Please, keep me eager just to do my share. + God--let me be aware. + + God--let me be aware. + Stab my soul fiercely with others' pain, + Let me walk seeing horror and stain. + Let my hands, groping, find other hands. + Give me the heart that divines, understands. + Give me the courage, wounded, to fight. + Flood me with knowledge, drench me in light. + Please--keep me eager just to do my share. + God--let me be aware. + + +_Miriam Teichner._ + + + + +ONE OF THESE DAYS + + +The worst fault in a hound is to run counter--to follow the trail +backward, not forward. Is the fault less when men are guilty of it? +Behind us is much that we have found to be faithless, cruel, or +unpleasant. Why go back to that? Why not go forward to the things we +really desire? + + + Say! Let's forget it! Let's put it aside! + Life is so large and the world is so wide. + Days are so short and there's so much to do, + What if it was false--there's plenty that's true. + Say! Let's forget it! Let's brush it away + Now and forever, so what do you say? + All of the bitter words said may be praise + One of these days. + + Say! Let's forget it! Let's wipe off the slate, + Find something better to cherish than hate. + There's so much good in the world that we've had, + Let's strike a balance and cross off the bad. + Say! Let's forgive it, whatever it be, + Let's not be slaves when we ought to be free. + We shall be walking in sunshiny ways + One of these days. + + Say! Let's not mind it! Let's smile it away, + Bring not a withered rose from yesterday; + Flowers are so fresh from the wayside and wood, + Sorrows are blessings but half understood. + Say! Let's not mind it, however it seems, + Hope is so sweet and holds so many dreams; + All of the sere fields with blossoms shall blaze + One of these days. + + Say! Let's not take it so sorely to heart! + Hates may be friendships just drifted apart, + Failure be genius not quite understood, + Say! Let's get closer to somebody's side, + See what his dreams are and learn how he tried, + See if our scoldings won't give way to praise + One of these days. + + Say! Let's not wither! Let's branch out and rise + Out of the byways and nearer the skies. + Let's spread some shade that's refreshing and deep + Where some tired traveler may lie down and sleep. + Say! Let's not tarry! Let's do it right now; + So much to do if we just find out how! + We may not be here to help folks or praise + One of these days. + + +_James W. Foley._ + +From "The Voices of Song." + + + +[Illustration: JAMES WILLIAM FOLEY] + + + + +GOD + + +We often think people shallow, think them incapable of anything serious +or profound, because their work is humdrum and their speech trivial. +Such a judgment is unfair, since that part of our own life which shows +itself to others is superficial likewise, though we are conscious that +within us is much that it does not reveal. + + + I think about God. + Yet I talk of small matters. + Now isn't it odd + How my idle tongue chatters! + Of quarrelsome neighbors, + Fine weather and rain, + Indifferent labors, + Indifferent pain, + Some trivial style + Fashion shifts with a nod. + And yet all the while + I am thinking of God. + + +_Gamaliel Bradford._ + +From "Shadow Verses." + + + + +MY TRIUMPH + + +The poet, looking back upon the hopes he has cherished, perceives that +he has fallen far short of achieving them. The songs he has sung are +less sweet than those he has dreamed of singing; the wishes he has +wrought into facts are less noble than those that are yet unfulfilled. +But he looks forward to the time when all that he desires for humankind +shall yet come to pass. The praise will not be his; it will belong to +others. Still, he does not envy those who are destined to succeed where +he failed. Rather does he rejoice that through them his hopes for the +race will be realized. And he is happy that by longing for just such a +triumph he shares in it--he makes it _his_ triumph. + + + Let the thick curtain fall; + I better know than all + How little I have gained, + How vast the unattained. + + Not by the page word-painted + Let life be banned or sainted: + Deeper than written scroll + The colors of the soul. + + Sweeter than any sung + My songs that found no tongue + Nobler than any fact + My wish that failed to act. + + Others shall sing the song, + Others shall right the wrong,-- + Finish what I begin, + And all I fail of win. + + What matter, I or they? + Mine or another's day, + So the right word be said + And life the sweeter made? + + Hail to the coming singers! + Hail to the brave light-bringers! + Forward I reach and share + All that they sing and dare. + + The airs of heaven blow o'er me; + A glory shines before me + Of what mankind shall be,-- + Pure, generous, brave, and free. + + A dream of man and woman + Diviner but still human, + Solving the riddle old, + Shaping the Age of Gold! + + The love of God and neighbor; + An equal-handed labor; + The richer life, where beauty + Walks hand in hand with duty. + + Ring, bells in unreared steeples, + The joy of unborn peoples! + Sound, trumpets far off blown, + Your triumph is my own. + + Parcel and part of all, + I keep the festival, + Fore-reach the good to be, + And share the victory. + + I feel the earth move sunward, + I join the great march onward, + And take, by faith, while living, + My freehold of thanksgiving. + + +_John Green leaf Whittier._ + + + + +TO ALTHEA FROM PRISON + + +In the great Civil War in England between the Puritans and Charles the +First the author of this poem sacrificed everything in the royal cause. +That cause was defeated and Lovelace was imprisoned. In these stanzas he +makes the most of his gloomy situation and sings the joys of various +kinds of freedom. First is the freedom brought by love, when his +sweetheart speaks to him through the grate of the dungeon. Second is the +freedom brought by the recollection of good fellowship, when tried and +true comrades took their wine straight--"with no allaying Thames." Third +is the freedom brought by remembrance of the king for whom he was +suffering. Finally comes the passionate and heroic assertion that though +the body of a man may be confined, nevertheless his spirit can remain +free and chainless. + + + When Love with unconfinéd wings + Hovers within my gates, + And my divine Althea brings + To whisper at the grates; + When I lie tangled in her hair + And fetter'd to her eye, + The Gods that wanton in the air + Know no such liberty. + + When flowing cups run swiftly round + With no allaying Thames, + Our careless heads with roses bound, + Our hearts with loyal flames; + When thirsty grief in wine we steep, + When healths and draughts go free-- + Fishes that tipple in the deep + Know no such liberty. + + When (like committed linnets) I + With shriller throat shall sing + The sweetness, mercy, majesty + And glories of my King; + When I shall voice aloud how good + He is, how great should be, + Enlarged winds, that curl the flood, + Know no such liberty. + + Stone walls do not a prison make, + Nor iron bars a cage; + Minds innocent and quiet take + That for an hermitage; + If I have freedom in my love + And in my soul am free, + Angels alone, that soar above, + Enjoy such liberty. + + +_Richard Lovelace._ + + + + +GRIEF + + +Shakespeare says: "I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, +than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching." This is +especially true regarding grief or affliction. "Man was born unto +trouble, as the sparks fly upward," but we bid other people bear their +sorrows manfully; we should therefore bear ours with equal courage. + + + Upon this trouble shall I whet my life + As 'twere a dulling knife; + Bade I my friend be brave? + I shall still braver be. + No man shall say of me, + "Others he saved, himself he cannot save." + But swift and fair + As the Primeval word that smote the night-- + "Let there be light!" + Courage shall leap from me, a gallant sword + To rout the enemy and all his horde, + Cleaving a kingly pathway through despair. + + +_Angela Morgan._ + +From "Forward, March!" + + + + +THE RECTIFYING YEARS + + +Time brings the deeper understanding that clears up our misconceptions; +it shows us the error of our hates; it dispels our worries and our +fears; it allays the grief that seemed too poignant to be borne. + + + Yes, things are more or less amiss; + To-day it's that, to-morrow this; + Yet with so much that's out of whack, + Life does not wholly jump the track + Because, since matters move along, + No _one_ thing's always _staying_ wrong. + So heed not failures, losses, fears, + But trust the rectifying years. + + What we shall have's not what we've got; + Our pains don't linger in one spot-- + They skip about; the seesaw's end + That's up will mighty soon descend; + You've looked at bacon? Life's like that-- + A streak of lean, a streak of fat. + Change, like a sky that clouds, that clears, + Hangs o'er the rectifying years. + + Uneven things not leveled down + Are somehow simply got aroun'; + The sting is taken from offence; + The evil has its recompense; + The broken heart is knit again; + The baffled longing knows not pain; + Wrong fades and trouble disappears + Before the rectifying years. + + Then envy, hate towards man or class + Should from your sinful nature pass. + Though others hold a higher place + Or have more power or wealth or grace, + The best of them, be sure, cannot + Escape the common human lot; + So many smiles, so many tears + Come with the rectifying years. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +TO THOSE WHO FAIL + + +We too often praise the man who wins just because he wins; the plaudits +and laurels of victory are the unthinking crowd's means of estimating +success. But the vanquished may have fought more nobly than the victor; +he may have done his best against hopeless odds. As Addison makes Cato +say, + + "'Tis not in mortals to command success, + But we'll do more, Sempronius,--we'll deserve it." + + + "All honor to him who shall win the prize," + The world has cried for a thousand years; + But to him who tries, and who fails and dies, + I give great honor and glory and tears; + + Give glory and honor and pitiful tears + To all who fail in their deeds sublime; + Their ghosts are many in the van of years, + They were born with Time, in advance of Time. + + Oh, great is the hero who wins a name, + But greater many and many a time + Some pale-faced fellow who dies in shame, + And lets God finish the thoughts sublime. + + And great is the man with a sword undrawn, + And good is the man who refrains from wine; + But the man who fails and yet still fights on, + Lo, he is the twin-born brother of mine. + + +_Joaquin Miller._ + +From "Joaquin Miller's Complete Poems." + + + + +HELPING' OUT + + +"I always look out for Number One," was the favorite remark of a man who +thought he had found the great rule to success, but he had only stated +his own doctrine of selfishness, and his life was never very successful. +A man must be big to succeed, and selfishness is always cramping and +narrow. + + + Da's a lot of folks what preach all day + An' always pointing' out de way, + Dey say dat prayin' all de time + An' keepin' yo' heart all full of rhyme + Will lead yo' soul to heights above + Whah angels coo like a turtledove. + But I's des lookin' round, dat's me-- + I's trustin' lots in what I see; + It 'pears to me da's lots to do + Befo' we pass dat heavenly blue. + I believes in prayin', preachin' about, + But believe a lot mo' in helpin' out. + + I believes in 'ligin, it's mighty sweet, + But de kind dat gits in yo' hands and feet + An' makes you work when dey ain't no praise, + Nuthin' but a heart dat's all a-blaze. + If it rains or shines, dey's des de same-- + Say, bless you, honey, Sunshine's dey name; + Dey don't fuss round 'bout how much pay + But climbs up de trail, helpin' all de way. + De load is often twice der size, + And smilin' is der biggest prize. + Dey never gits dis awful gout + 'Cause dey's busy all de time in helpin' out. + + We had an old mule on Massa's place, + As fo' looks he'd certainly lose de race; + But der wa'n't a horse fo' miles around + Could pull mo' load or plow mo' ground. + An' when dat donkey brayed his best, + He seemed to know he'd licked de rest. + Dat bray of his was strong as wool-- + It always come at de hardest pull. + We need mo' mules with brains on guard + Dat knos de game of pullin' hard, + An' a heart dat's tender, true and stout, + Dat believes all day in helpin' out. + + We's all des human, des common clay, + Des needs a little help to make work play. + I'se read a lot of philosophy day an' night, + An' worked around a heap wid de law of right. + I'se seen de high an' mighty come an' go, + I'se seen de simple spirit come from below; + An' I'se seen a lot of principle most folks miss-- + I'se not a-stretchin' truth when I say dis: + "Keep a-smilin' an' a-lovin' an a-doin' all yo' can, + Fo' yo' loses all yo' trouble when yo' help yo' fellow man; + An' you gits on best yo'self, an' of this dey ain't no doubt, + When yo' practise de art of always helpin' out." + + +_William Judson Kibby._ + + + + +OPENING PARADISE + + +We appreciate even the common things of life if we are denied them. + + + See the wretch, that long has tost + On the thorny bed of Pain, + At length repair his vigor lost, + And breathe and walk again: + The meanest flow'r'et of the vale, + The simplest note that swells the gale, + The common Sun, the air, and skies, + To him are opening Paradise. + + +_Thomas Gray._ + + + + +TO THE MEN WHO LOSE + + +When Captain Scott's ill-fated band, after reaching the South Pole, was +struggling through the cold and storms back towards safety, the strength +of Evans, one of the men, became exhausted. He had done his best--vainly. +Now he did not wish to imperil his companions, already sorely tried. At +a halting-place, therefore, he left them and, staggering out into a +blizzard, perished alone. It was a failure, yes; but was it not also +magnificent success? + + + Here's to the men who lose! + What though their work be e'er so nobly planned, + And watched with zealous care, + No glorious halo crowns their efforts grand, + Contempt is failure's share. + + Here's to the men who lose! + If triumph's easy smile our struggles greet, + Courage is easy then; + The king is he who, after fierce defeat, + Can up and fight again. + + Here's to the men who lose! + The ready plaudits of a fawning world + Ring sweet in victor's ears; + The vanquished's banners never are unfurled-- + For them there sound no cheers. + + Here's to the men who lose! + The touchstone of true worth is not success; + There is a higher test-- + Though fate may darkly frown, onward to press, + And bravely do one's best. + + Here's to the men who lose! + It is the vanquished's praises that I sing, + And this is the toast I choose: + "A hard-fought failure is a noble thing; + Here's to the men who lose!" + + +_Anonymous._ + + + + +IT MAY BE + + +Many, many are the human struggles in which we can lend no aid. But if +we cannot help, at least we need not hinder. + + + It may be that you cannot stay + To lend a friendly hand to him + Who stumbles on the slippery way, + Pressed by conditions hard and grim; + It may be that you dare not heed + His call for help, because you lack + The strength to lift him, but you need + Not push him back. + + It may be that he has not won + The right to hope for your regard; + He may in folly have begun + The course that he has found so hard; + It may be that your fingers bleed, + That Fortune turns a bitter frown + Upon your efforts, but you need + Not kick him down. + + +_S.E. Kiser._ + + + + +LIFE + + +In life is necessarily much monotony, sameness. But our triumph may lie +in putting richness and meaning into routine that apparently lacks them. + + + Forenoon and afternoon and night,--Forenoon, + And afternoon, and night,--Forenoon, and--what! + The empty song repeats itself. No more? + Yea, that is Life: make this forenoon sublime, + This afternoon a psalm, this night a prayer, + And Time is conquered, and thy crown is won. + + +_Edward Rowland Sill._ + +From "Poems." + + + + +THE GRUMPY GUY + + +When students came, full of ambition, to the great scientist Agassiz, he +gave each a fish and told him to find out what he could about it. They +went to work and in a day or two were ready for their report. But +Agassiz didn't come round. To kill time they went to work again, +observed, dissected, conjectured, and when at the end of a fortnight +Agassiz finally appeared, they felt that their knowledge was really +exhaustive. The master's brief comment was that they had made a fair +beginning, and again he left. They then fell to in earnest and after +weeks and months of investigation declared that a fish was the most +fascinating of studies. If our interest in life fails, it is not from +material to work on. No two leaves are alike, not two human beings are +alike, and if we are discerning, the attraction of any one of them is +infinite. + + + The Grumpy Guy was feeling blue; the Grumpy Guy was glum; + The Grumpy Guy with baleful eye took Misery for a chum. + He hailed misfortunes as his pals, and murmured, "Let 'em come!" + + "Oh, what's the blooming use?" he yelped, his face an angry red, + "When everything's been thought before and everything's been said? + And what's a Grumpy Guy to do except to go to bed? + + "And where's the joy the poets sing, the merriment and fun? + How can one start a thing that's new when everything's begun?-- + When everything's been planned before and everything's been done?-- + + "When everything's been dreamed before and everything's been sought? + When everything that ever ran has, so to speak, been caught?-- + When every game's been played before and every battle fought?" + + I started him at solitaire, a fooling, piffling game. + He played it ninety-seven hours and failed to find it tame. + In all the times he dealt the cards no two games were the same. + + He never tumbled to its tricks nor mastered all its curves. + He grunted, "Well, this takes the cake, the pickles and preserves! + Its infinite variety is getting on my nerves." + + "Its infinite variety!" I scoffed. "Just fifty-two + Poor trifling bits of pasteboard!--their combinations few + Compared to what there is in man!--the poorest!--even you! + + "Variety! You'll never find in forty-seven decks + One tenth of the variety found in the gentler sex. + Card combinations are but frills to hang around their necks. + + "The sun won't rise to-morrow as it came to us to-day, + 'Twill be older, we'll be older, and to Time this debt we pay. + For nothing can repeat itself, for nothing knows the way." + + Then the Grumpy Guy was silent as a miser hoarding pelf. + He knew 'twas time to put his grouch away upon the shelf. + And so he did.--You see, I was just talking to myself! + + +_Griffith Alexander._ + +From "The Pittsburg Dispatch." + + + + +THE FIGHTER + + +If life were all easy, we should degenerate into weaklings--into human +mush. It is the fighting spirit that makes us strong. Nor do any of us +lack for a chance to exercise this spirit. Struggle is everywhere; as +Kearny said at Fair Oaks, "There is lovely fighting along the whole +line." + + + I fight a battle every day + Against discouragement and fear; + Some foe stands always in my way, + The path ahead is never clear! + I must forever be on guard + Against the doubts that skulk along; + I get ahead by fighting hard, + But fighting keeps my spirit strong. + + I hear the croakings of Despair, + The dark predictions of the weak; + I find myself pursued by Care, + No matter what the end I seek; + My victories are small and few, + It matters not how hard I strive; + Each day the fight begins anew, + But fighting keeps my hopes alive. + + My dreams are spoiled by circumstance, + My plans are wrecked by Fate or Luck; + Some hour, perhaps, will bring my chance, + But that great hour has never struck; + My progress has been slow and hard, + I've had to climb and crawl and swim, + Fighting for every stubborn yard, + But I have kept in fighting trim. + + I have to fight my doubts away, + And be on guard against my fears; + The feeble croaking of Dismay + Has been familiar through the years; + My dearest plans keep going wrong, + Events combine to thwart my will, + But fighting keeps my spirit strong, + And I am undefeated still! + + +_S.E. Kiser._ + +From "The New York American." + + + +[Illustration: SAMUEL ELLSWORTH KISER] + + + + +TO YOUTH AFTER PAIN + + +Since pain is the lot of all, we cannot hope to escape it. Since only +through pain can we come into true and helpful sympathy with men, we +should not wish to escape it. + + + What if this year has given + Grief that some year must bring, + What if it hurt your joyous youth, + Crippled your laughter's wing? + You always knew it was coming, + Coming to all, to you, + They always said there was suffering-- + Now it is done, come through. + + Even if you have blundered, + Even if you have sinned, + Still is the steadfast arch of the sky + And the healing veil of the wind.... + And after only a little, + A little of hurt and pain, + You shall have the web of your own old dreams + Wrapping your heart again. + + Only your heart can pity + Now, where it laughed and passed, + Now you can bend to comfort men, + One with them all at last, + You shall have back your laughter, + You shall have back your song, + Only the world is your brother now, + Only your soul is strong! + + +_Margaret Widdemer._ + +From "The Old Road to Paradise." + + + + +CAN'T + + +A great, achieving soul will not clog itself with a cowardly thought or +a cowardly watchword. Cardinal Richelieu in Bulwer-Lytton's play +declares: + + "In the lexicon of youth, which fate reserves + For a bright manhood, there is no such word + As 'fail.'" + +"Impossible," Napoleon is quoted as saying, "is a word found only in the +dictionary of fools." + + + _Can't_ is the worst word that's written or spoken; + Doing more harm here than slander and lies; + On it is many a strong spirit broken, + And with it many a good purpose dies. + It springs from the lips of the thoughtless each morning + And robs us of courage we need through the day: + It rings in our ears like a timely-sent warning + And laughs when we falter and fall by the way. + + _Can't_ is the father of feeble endeavor, + The parent of terror and half-hearted work; + It weakens the efforts of artisans clever, + And makes of the toiler an indolent shirk. + It poisons the soul of the man with a vision, + It stifles in infancy many a plan; + It greets honest toiling with open derision + And mocks at the hopes and the dreams of a man. + + _Can't_ is a word none should speak without blushing; + To utter it should be a symbol of shame; + Ambition and courage it daily is crushing; + It blights a man's purpose and shortens his aim. + Despise it with all of your hatred of error; + Refuse it the lodgment it seeks in your brain; + Arm against it as a creature of terror, + And all that you dream of you some day shall gain. + + _Can't_ is the word that is foe to ambition, + An enemy ambushed to shatter your will; + Its prey is forever the man with a mission + And bows but to courage and patience and skill. + Hate it, with hatred that's deep and undying, + For once it is welcomed 'twill break any man; + Whatever the goal you are seeking, keep trying + And answer this demon by saying: "I _can_." + + +_Edgar A. Guest._ + +From "A Heap o' Livin'." + + + + +THE STRUGGLE + + +We all dream of being St. Georges and fighting dragons amid glamor and +glory and the applause of the world. But our real fights are mostly +commonplace, routine battles, where no great victory is ours at the end +of the day. To persist in them requires quiet strength and unfaltering +courage. + + + Did you ever want to take your two bare hands, + And choke out of the world your big success? + Beat, torn fists bleeding, pathways rugged, grand, + By sheer brute strength and bigness, nothing less? + So at the last, triumphant, battered, strong, + You might gaze down on what you choked and beat, + And say, "Ah, world, you've wrought to do me wrong; + And thus have I accepted my defeat." + + Have you ever dreamed of virile deeds, and vast, + And then come back from dreams with wobbly knees, + To find your way (the braver vision past), + By picking meekly at typewriter keys; + By bending o'er a ledger, day by day, + By some machine-like drudging? No great woe + To grapple with. Slow, painful is the way, + And still, the bravest fight and conquer so. + + +_Miriam Teichner._ + + + + +HOLD FAST + + +A football coach who told his players that their rivals were too strong +for them would be seeking a new position the next year. If the opposing +team is formidable, he says so; if his men have their work cut out for +them, he admits it; but he mentions these things as incitements to +effort. Merely saying of victory that it can be won is among the surest +ways of winning it. + + + When you're nearly drowned in trouble, and the world is dark as ink; + When you feel yourself a-sinking 'neath the strain, + And you think, "I've got to holler 'Help!'" just take another breath + And pretend you've lost your voice--and can't complain! + (That's the idea!) + Pretend you've lost your voice and can't complain! + + When the future glowers at you like a threatening thunder cloud, + Just grit your teeth and bend your head and say: + "It's dark and disagreeable and I can't help feeling blue, + But there's coming sure as fate a brighter day!" + (Say it slowly!) + "But there's coming sure as fate, a brighter day!" + + You have bluffed your way through ticklish situations; that I know. + You are looking back on troubles past and gone; + Now, turn the tables, and as you have fought and won before, + Just BLUFF YOURSELF to keep on holding on! + (Try it once.) + Just bluff YOURSELF to keep on--holding on. + + Don't worry if the roseate hues of life are faded out, + Bend low before the storm and wait awhile. + The pendulum is bound to swing again and you will find + That you have not forgotten how to smile. + (That's the truth!) + That you have not forgotten how to smile. + + +_Everard Jack Appleton._ + +From "The Quiet Courage." + + + +[Illustration: JOHN KENDRICK BANGS] + + + + +WILL + + +Warren Hastings resolved in his boyhood that he would be the owner of +the estate known as Daylesford. This was the one great purpose that +unified his varied and far-reaching activities. Admire him or not, we +must at least praise his pluck in holding to his purpose--a purpose he +ultimately attained. + + + You will be what you will to be; + Let failure find its false content + In that poor word "environment," + But spirit scorns it, and is free. + + It masters time, it conquers space, + It cowes that boastful trickster Chance, + And bids the tyrant Circumstance + Uncrown and fill a servant's place. + + The human Will, that force unseen, + The offspring of a deathless Soul, + Can hew the way to any goal, + Though walls of granite intervene. + + Be not impatient in delay, + But wait as one who understands; + When spirit rises and commands + The gods are ready to obey. + + The river seeking for the sea + Confronts the dam and precipice, + Yet knows it cannot fail or miss; + _You will be what you will to be!_ + + +_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._ + +From "Poems of Power." + + + + +THE GAME + + +Lessing said that if God should come to him with truth in one hand and +the never-ending pursuit of truth in the other, and should offer him his +choice, he would humbly and reverently take the pursuit of truth. +Perhaps it is best that finite beings should not attain infinite +success. But however remote that for which they seek or strive, they may +by their diligence and generosity make the very effort to secure it +noble. In doing this they earn, as Pope tells us, a truer commendation +than success itself could bring them. "Act well thy part; there all the +honor lies." + + + Let's play it out--this little game called Life, + Where we are listed for so brief a spell; + Not just to win, amid the tumult rife, + Or where acclaim and gay applauses swell; + Nor just to conquer where some one must lose, + Or reach the goal whatever be the cost; + For there are other, better ways to choose, + Though in the end the battle may be lost. + + Let's play it out as if it were a sport + Wherein the game is better than the goal, + And never mind the detailed "score's" report + Of errors made, if each with dauntless soul + But stick it out until the day is done, + Not wasting fairness for success or fame, + So when the battle has been lost or won, + The world at least can say: "He played the game." + + Let's play it out--this little game called Work, + Or War or Love or what part each may draw; + Play like a man who scorns to quit or shirk + Because the break may carry some deep flaw; + Nor simply holding that the goal is all + That keeps the player in the contest staying; + But stick it out from curtain rise to fall, + As if the game itself were worth the playing. + + +_Grantland Rice._ + +From "The Sportlight." + + + + +COURAGE + + +The philosopher Kant held himself to his habits so precisely that people +set their watches by him as he took his daily walk. We may be equally +constant amid worldly vicissitudes, but only a man of true courage is. + + + 'Tis the front towards life that matters most-- + The tone, the point of view, + The constancy that in defeat + Remains untouched and true; + + For death in patriot fight may be + Less gallant than a smile, + And high endeavor, to the gods, + Seems in itself worth while! + + +_Florence Earle Coates._ + +From "Poems." + + + + +A GOOD NAME + + +We should respect the good name of other people, and should safeguard +our own by a high sense of honor. At the close of the Civil War a +representative of an insurance company offered Robert E. Lee the +presidency of the firm at a salary of $50,000 a year. Lee replied that +while he wished to earn his living, he doubted whether his services +would be worth so large a sum. "We don't want your services," the man +interrupted; "we want your name." "That," said Lee, quietly, "is not for +sale." He accepted, instead, the presidency of a college at $1500 a +year. + + + Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, + Is the immediate jewel of their souls: + Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; + 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; + But he that filches from me my good name + Robs me of that which not enriches him, + And makes me poor indeed. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +SWELLITIS + + +A certain employer of large numbers of men makes it a principle to +praise none of them, not because they are undeserving, and not because +he dislikes to commend, but because experience has taught him that +usually the praise goes to the head of the recipient, both impairing his +work and making it harder for others to associate with him. A good test +of a man is his way of taking commendation. He may, even while grateful, +be stirred to humility that he has not done better still, and may +resolve to accomplish more. Or imitating the frog who wished to look +like an ox, he may swell and swell until--figuratively speaking--he +bursts. + + + Somebody said he'd done it well, + And presto! his head began to swell; + Bigger and bigger the poor thing grew-- + A wonder it didn't split in two. + In size a balloon could scarcely match it; + He needed a fishing-pole to scratch it;--- + But six and a half was the size of his hat, + And it rattled around on his head at that! + + "Good work," somebody chanced to say, + And his chest swelled big as a load of hay. + About himself, like a rooster, he crowed; + Of his wonderful work he bragged and blowed + He marched around with a peacock strut; + Gigantic to him was the figure he cut;-- + But he wore a very small-sized suit, + And loosely it hung on him, to boot! + + HE was the chap who made things hum! + HE was the drumstick and the drum! + HE was the shirt bosom and the starch! + HE was the keystone in the arch! + HE was the axis of the earth! + Nothing existed before his birth! + But when he was off from work a + Nobody knew that he was away! + + This is a fact that is sad to tell: + It's the empty head that is bound to swell; + It's the light-weight fellow who soars to the skies + And bursts like a bubble before your eyes. + A big man is humbled by honest praise, + And tries to think of all the ways + To improve his work and do it well;-- + But a little man starts of himself to yell! + + +_Joseph Morris:_ + + + + +CARES + + +To those who are wearied, fretted, and worried there is no physician +like nature. When our nerves are frazzled and our sleep is unrefreshing, +we can find no better antidote to the clamorous grind and frenzy of the +city than the stillness and solitude of hills, streams, and tranquil +stars. That man lays up for himself resources of strength who now and +then exchanges the ledger for green leaves, the factory for wild +flowers, business for brook-croon and bird-song. + + + The little cares that fretted me, + I lost them yesterday + Among the fields above the sea, + Among the winds at play; + Among the lowing of the herds, + The rustling of the trees, + Among the singing of the birds, + The humming of the bees. + + The foolish fears of what may happen, + I cast them all away + Among the clover-scented grass, + Among the new-mown hay; + Among the husking of the corn + Where drowsy poppies nod, + Where ill thoughts die and good are born + Out in the fields with God. + + +_Elisabeth Barrett Browning._ + + + + +FAITH + + +Any one who has ridden across the continent on a train must marvel at +the faith and imagination of the engineers who constructed the road--the +topographical advantages seized, the grades made easy of ascent, the +curves and straight stretches planned, the tunnels so carefully +calculated that workmen beginning on opposite sides of a mountain met in +the middle--and all this visualized and thought out before the actual +work was begun. Faith has such foresight, such courage, whether it toils +actively or can merely bide its time. + + + The tree-top, high above the barren field, + Rising beyond the night's gray folds of mist, + Rests stirless where the upper air is sealed + To perfect silence, by the faint moon kissed. + But the low branches, drooping to the ground, + Sway to and fro, as sways funereal plume, + While from their restless depths low whispers sound: + "We fear, we fear the darkness and the gloom; + Dim forms beneath us pass and reappear, + And mournful tongues are menacing us here." + + Then from the topmost bough falls calm reply: + "Hush, hush, I see the coming of the morn; + Swiftly the silent night is passing by, + And in her bosom rosy Dawn is borne. + 'Tis but your own dim shadows that ye see, + 'Tis but your own low moans that trouble ye." + + So Life stands, with a twilight world around; + Faith turned serenely to the steadfast sky, + Still answering the heart that sweeps the ground + Sobbing in fear, and tossing restlessly-- + "Hush, hush! The Dawn breaks o'er the Eastern sea, + 'Tis but thine own dim shadow troubling thee." + + +_Edward Rowland Sill._ + +From "Poems." + + + + +PLAYING THE GAME + + +We all like the good sport--the man who plays fair and courteously and +with every ounce of his energy, even when the game is going against him. + + + Life is a game with a glorious prize, + If we can only play it right. + It is give and take, build and break, + And often it ends in a fight; + But he surely wins who honestly tries + (Regardless of wealth or fame), + He can never despair who plays it fair-- + How are you playing the game? + + Do you wilt and whine, if you fail to win + In the manner you think your due? + Do you sneer at the man in case that he can + And does, do better than you? + Do you take your rebuffs with a knowing grin? + Do you laugh tho' you pull up lame? + Does your faith hold true when the whole world's blue? + How are you playing the game? + + Get into the thick of it--wade in, boys! + Whatever your cherished goal; + Brace up your will till your pulses thrill, + And you dare--to your very soul! + Do something more than make a noise; + Let your purpose leap into flame + As you plunge with a cry, "I shall do or die," + Then you will be playing the game. + + +_Anonymous_. + + + + +WHAT DARK DAYS DO + + +A real man does not want all his barriers leveled. He of course welcomes +easy tasks, but he welcomes hard ones also. The difficult or unpleasant +thing puts him on his mettle, throws him on his own resources. It gives +him something of + + "The stern joy which warriors feel + In foemen worthy of their steel." + +Moreover as a foil or contrast it enables him to value more truly the +good things he constantly enjoys, perhaps without perceiving them. + + + I sorter like a gloomy day, + Th' kind that jest _won't_ smile; + It makes a feller hump hisself + T' make life seem wuth while. + When sun's a-shinin' an' th' sky + Is washed out bright an' gay, + It ain't no job to whistle--but + It is-- + When skies air gray! + + So gloomy days air good fer us, + They make us look about + To find our blessin's--make us count + The friends who never doubt, + Most any one kin smile and joke + And hold blue-devils back + When it is bright, but we must work + T' grin-- + When skies air black! + + That's why I sorter _like_ dark days, + That put it up to me + To keep th' gloom from soakin' in + My whole anatomy! + An' if they _never_ come along + My soul would surely rust-- + Th' dark days keeps my cheerfulness + From draggin' + In th' dust! + + +_Everard Jack Appleton._ + +From "The Quiet Courage." + + + + +GLADNESS + + +A coal miner does not need the sun's illumination. He carries his own +light. + + + The world has brought not anything + To make me glad to-day! + The swallow had a broken wing, + And after all my journeying + There was no water in the spring-- + My friend has said me nay. + But yet somehow I needs must sing + As on a luckier day. + + Dusk fails as gray as any tear, + There is no hope in sight! + But something in me seems so fair, + That like a star I needs must wear + A safety made of shining air + Between me and the night. + Such inner weavings do I wear + All fashioned of delight! + + I need not for these robes of mine + The loveliness of earth, + But happenings remote and fine + Like threads of dreams will blow and shine + In gossamer and crystalline, + And I was glad from birth. + So even while my eyes repine, + My heart is clothed in mirth. + + +_Anna Hempstead Branch._ + +From "The Shoes That Danced, and Other Poems." + + + + +IT WON'T STAY BLOWED + + +It is easier to fail than succeed. It is easier to drift downstream than +up. But just as pent steam finds an escape somewhere, so will the man +who persists break at one point or another through confining +circumstance. + + + To the sniffing pickaninny once his good old mammy said, + "Yo' lil' black nose am drippin' from de cold dat's in yo' head, + An' yo' sleeve am slick and shiny like de hillside when it snows. + Why doan' you pump de bellers from de inside ob yo' nose?" + "Ain't I been," the child replied to her, "a-doin' ob jes' dat + Twel I's got a turble empty feel right whur I wears muh hat? + De traffic soht o' nacherly keeps gittin' in de road. + I blow muh nose a-plenty, but + it + won't + stay + blowed. + + "What's de use ob raisin' chickens ef dey won't stay riz? + What's de use ob freezin' sherbet ef it won't stay friz? + What's de use ob payin' debts off ef dey's gwine stay owed? + What's de use ob blowin' noses ef dey won't stay blowed?" + + This old world is sometimes jealous of the chap who means to rise; + It sneers at what he's doing or it bats him 'twixt the eyes; + It trips him when he's careless, and it makes his way so hard + What's left of him is sinew, not a walking tub of lard; + But it's only wasting effort, for by George, the guy keeps on + When his hopes have crumbled round him and you'd think his faith was gone, + Till the world at last knocks under and it passes him a crown: + Once, twice, thrice it has upset him, but + he + won't + stay + down. + + What cares he when out he's flattened by the cruel blow it deals? + He has rubber in his shoulders and a mainspring in his heels. + Let the world uncork its buffets till he's bruised from toe to crown; + Let it thump him, bump him, dump him, but he won't stay down. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +THE RAINBOW + + +Our lives are not a hodge-podge of separate experiences, though they +sometimes seem so. They are held together by simple things which we +behold again and again with the same emotions. Thus the man is what the +boy has been; the tree is inclined in the precise direction the twig was +bent. + + + My heart leaps up when I behold + A rainbow in the sky: + So was it when my life began; + So is it now I am a man; + So be it when I shall grow old, + Or let me die! + The Child is father of the Man; + And I could wish my days to be + Bound each to each by natural piety. + + +_William Wordsworth._ + + + + +THE FIRM OF GRIN AND BARRETT + + +It has been said that when disaster overtakes us, we can do one of two +things--we can grin and bear it, or we needn't grin. The spirit that +keeps a smile on our faces when our burden is heaviest is the spirit +that will win in the long run. Many men know how to take success +quietly. The real test of a man is he way he takes failure. + + + No financial throe volcanic + Ever yet was known to scare it; + Never yet was any panic + Scared the firm of Grin and Barrett. + From the flurry and the fluster, + From the ruin and the crashes, + They arise in brighter lustre, + Like the phoenix from his ashes. + When the banks and corporations + Quake with fear, they do not share it; + Smiling through all perturbations + Goes the firm of Grin and Barrett. + Grin and Barrett, + Who can scare it? + Scare the firm of Grin and Barrett? + + When the tide-sweep of reverses + Smites them, firm they stand and dare it + Without wailings, tears, or curses, + This stout firm of Grin and Barrett. + Even should their house go under + In the flood and inundation, + Calm they stand amid the thunder + Without noise or demonstration. + And, when sackcloth is the fashion, + With a patient smile they wear it, + Without petulance or passion, + This old firm of Grin and Barrett. + Grin and Barrett, + Who can scare it? + Scare the firm of Grin and Barrett? + + When the other firms show dizziness, + Here's a house that does not share it. + Wouldn't you like to join the business? + Join the firm of Grin and Barrett? + Give your strength that does not murmur, + And your nerve that does not falter, + And you've joined a house that's firmer + Than the old rock of Gibraltar. + They have won a good prosperity; + Why not join the firm and share it? + Step, young fellow, with celerity; + Join the firm of Grin and Barrett. + Grin and Barrett, + Who can scare it? + Scare the firm of Grin and Barrett? + + +_Sam Walter Foss._ + +From "Songs of the Average Man." + + + +[Illustration: SAM WALTER FOSS] + + + + +CHALLENGE + + +Napoleon is reported to have complained of the English that they didn't +have sense enough to know when they were beaten. Even if defeat is +unmistakable, it need not be final. A battle may be lost, but the +campaign won; a campaign lost, but the war won. + + + Life, I challenge you to try me, + Doom me to unending pain; + Stay my hand, becloud my vision, + Break my heart and then--again. + + Shatter every dream I've cherished, + Fill my heart with ruthless fear; + Follow every smile that cheers me + With a bitter, blinding tear. + + Thus I dare you; you can try me, + Seek to make me cringe and moan, + Still my unbound soul defies you, + I'll withstand you--and, alone! + + +_Jean Nette._ + + + + +YOUR MISSION + + +One of the most often-heard of sentences is "I don't know what I'm to do +in the world." Yet very few people are ever for a moment out of +something to do, especially if they do not insist on climbing to the top +of the pole and waving the flag, but are willing to steady the pole +while somebody else climbs. + + + If you cannot on the ocean + Sail among the swiftest fleet, + Rocking on the highest billows, + Laughing at the storms you meet; + You can stand among the sailors, + Anchored yet within the bay, + You can lend a hand to help them + As they launch their boats away. + + If you are too weak to journey + Up the mountain, steep and high, + You can stand within the valley + While the multitudes go by; + You can chant in happy measure + As they slowly pass along-- + Though they may forget the singer, + They will not forget the song. + + * * * * * + + If you cannot in the harvest + Garner up the richest sheaves, + Many a grain, both ripe and golden, + Oft the careless reaper leaves; + Go and glean among the briars + Growing rank against the wall, + For it may be that their shadow + Hides the heaviest grain of all. + + If you cannot in the conflict + Prove yourself a soldier true; + If, where fire and smoke are thickest, + There's no work for you to do; + When the battle field is silent, + You can go with careful tread; + You can bear away the wounded, + You can cover up the dead. + + Do not then stand idly waiting + For some greater work to do; + Fortune is a lazy goddess, + She will never come to you; + Go and toil in any vineyard, + Do not fear to do and dare. + If you want a field of labor + You can find it anywhere. + + +_Ellen M.H. Gates._ + + + + +VICTORY + + +To fail is not a disgrace; the disgrace lies in not trying. In his old +age Sir Walter Scott found that a publishing firm he was connected with +was heavily in debt. He refused to take advantage of the bankruptcy law, +and sat down with his pen to make good the deficit. Though he wore out +his life in the struggle and did not live to see the debt entirely +liquidated, he died an honored and honorable man. + + + I call no fight a losing fight + If, fighting, I have gained some straight new strength; + If, fighting, I turned ever toward the light, + All unallied with forces of the night; + If, beaten, quivering, I could say at length: + "I did no deed that needs to be unnamed; + I fought--and lost--and I am unashamed." + + +_Miriam Teichner._ + + + + +TIMES GO BY TURNS + + +One of the greatest blessings in life is alteration. The ins become +outs, the outs ins; the ups become downs, the downs ups; and so on--and +it is better so. We must not get too highly elated at success, for life +is not all success. We must not grow too downcast from failure, for life +is not all failure. + + + The lopped tree in time may grow again, + Most naked plants renew both fruit and flower; + The sorriest wight may find release of pain, + The driest soil suck in some moistening shower; + Time goes by turns, and chances change by course, + From foul to fair, from better hap to worse. + + The sea of Fortune doth not ever flow; + She draws her favors to the lowest ebb; + Her tides have equal times to come and go; + Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web; + No joy so great but runneth to an end, + No hap so hard but may in fine amend. + + Not always fall of leaf, nor ever Spring; + Not endless night, yet not eternal day; + The saddest birds a season find to sing; + The roughest storm a calm may soon allay. + Thus, with succeeding turns God tempereth all, + That man may hope to rise, yet fear to fall. + + A chance may win that by mischance was lost; + That net that holds no great takes little fish; + In some things all, in all things none are crost; + Few all they need, but none have all they wish. + Unmingled joys here to no man befall; + Who least, hath some; who most, hath never all. + + +_Robert Southwell._ + + + + +TO-DAY + + +The past did not behold to-day; the future shall not. We must use it now +if it is to be of any benefit to mankind. + + + So here hath been dawning + Another blue day; + Think, wilt thou let it + Slip useless away? + + Out of Eternity + This new day is born; + Into Eternity, + At night will return. + + Behold it aforetime + No eye ever did; + So soon it for ever + From all eyes is hid. + + Here hath been dawning + Another blue day; + Think, wilt thou let it + Slip useless away? + + +_Thomas Carlyle._ + + + + +UNAFRAID + + + I have no fear. What is in store for me + Shall find me ready for it, undismayed. + God grant my only cowardice may be + Afraid--to be afraid! + + +_Everard Jack Appleton._ + +From "The Quiet Courage." + + + + +BORROWED FEATHERS + + +Many good, attractive people spoil the merits they have by trying to be +something bigger or showier. It is always best to be one's self. + + + A rooster one morning was preening his feathers + That glistened so bright in the sun; + He admired the tints of the various colors + As he laid them in place one by one. + Now as roosters go he was a fine bird, + And he should have been satisfied; + But suddenly there as he marched along, + Some peacock feathers he spied. + They had beautiful spots and their colors were gay-- + He wished that his own could be green; + He dropped his tail, tried to hide it away; + Was completely ashamed to be seen. + + Then his foolish mind hatched up a scheme-- + A peacock yet he could be; + So he hopped behind a bush to undress + Where the other fowls could not see. + He caught his own tail between his bill, + And pulled every feather out; + And into the holes stuck the peacock plumes; + Then proudly strutted about. + The other fowls rushed to see the queer sight; + And the peacocks came when they heard; + They could not agree just what he was, + But pronounced him a funny bird. + + Then the chickens were angry that one of their kind + Should try to be a peacock; + And the peacocks were mad that one with their tail + Should belong to a common fowl flock. + So the chickens beset him most cruelly behind, + And yanked his whole tail out together; + The peacocks attacked him madly before, + And pulled out each chicken feather. + And when he stood stripped clean down to the skin, + A horrible thing to the rest, + He learned this sad lesson when it was too late-- + As his own simple self he was best. + + +_Joseph Morris._ + + + + +KEEP ON KEEPIN' ON + + +The author of these homely stanzas has caught perfectly the spirit which +succeeds in the rough-and-tumble of actual life. + + + If the day looks kinder gloomy + And your chances kinder slim, + If the situation's puzzlin' + And the prospect's awful grim, + If perplexities keep pressin' + Till hope is nearly gone, + Just bristle up and grit your teeth + And keep on keepin' on. + + Frettin' never wins a fight + And fumin' never pays; + There ain't no use in broodin' + In these pessimistic ways; + Smile just kinder cheerfully + Though hope is nearly gone, + And bristle up and grit your teeth + And keep on keepin' on. + + There ain't no use in growlin' + And grumblin' all the time, + When music's ringin' everywhere + And everything's a rhyme. + Just keep on smilin' cheerfully + If hope is nearly gone, + And bristle up and grit your teeth + And keep on keepin' on. + + +_Anonymous._ + + + + +THE DISAPPOINTED + + +Those who have striven nobly and failed deserve sympathy. Sometimes they +deserve also praise unreserved, in that they have refused to do +something ignoble which would have led to what the world calls success. +They have lived the idea which Macbeth merely proclaimed: + + "I dare do all that may become a man; + Who dares do more is none." + + + There are songs enough for the hero + Who dwells on the heights of fame; + I sing of the disappointed-- + For those who have missed their aim. + + I sing with a tearful cadence + For one who stands in the dark, + And knows that his last, best arrow + Has bounded back from the mark. + + I sing for the breathless runner, + The eager, anxious soul, + Who falls with his strength exhausted. + Almost in sight of the goal; + + For the hearts that break in silence, + With a sorrow all unknown, + For those who need companions, + Yet walk their ways alone. + + There are songs enough for the lovers + Who share love's tender pain, + I sing for the one whose passion + Is given all in vain. + + For those whose spirit comrades + Have missed them on their way, + I sing, with a heart o'erflowing, + This minor strain to-day. + + And I know the Solar system + Must somewhere keep in space + A prize for that spent runner + Who barely lost the race. + + For the plan would be imperfect + Unless it held some sphere + That paid for the toil and talent + And love that are wasted here. + + +_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._ + +From "Picked Poems." + + + + +LET ME LIVE OUT MY YEARS + + +We speak of the comforts and ease of old age, but our noblest selves do +not really desire them. We want to do more than exist. We want to be +alive to the very last. + + + Let me live out my years in heat of blood! + Let me die drunken with the dreamer's wine! + Let me not see this soul-house built of mud + Go toppling to the dust--a vacant shrine! + + Let me go quickly like a candle light + Snuffed out just at the heyday of its glow! + Give me high noon--and let it then be night! + Thus would I go. + + And grant that when I face the grisly Thing, + My song may triumph down the gray Perhaps! + Let me be as a tuneswept fiddlestring + That feels the Master Melody--and snaps. + + +_John G. Neihardt_ + +From "The Quest" (collected lyrics). + + + + +COLUMBUS + + +This poem pictures courage and high resolution. To the terrors of an +unknown sea and the mutinous dismay of the sailors Columbus has but two +things to oppose--his faith and his unflinching will. But these suffice, +as they always do. In the last four lines of the poem is a lesson for +our nation to-day. The seas upon which our ideals have launched us are +perilous and uncharted. In some ways our whole voyage of democracy seems +futile. Shall we turn back, or shall we, like Columbus, answer the +falterers in words that leap like a leaping sword; "Sail on, sail on"? + + + Behind him lay the gray Azores, + Behind the Gates of Hercules; + Before him not the ghost of shores: + Before him only shoreless seas. + The good mate said: "Now must we pray, + For lo! the very stars are gone. + Brave Adm'r'l, speak; what shall I say?" + "Why, say: 'Sail on! sail on! and on!'" + + "My men grow mutinous day by day; + My men grow ghastly wan and weak." + The stout mate thought of home; a spray + Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek. + "What shall I say, brave Adm'r'l, say, + If we sight naught but seas at dawn?" + "Why, you shall say at break of day: + 'Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!'" + + They sailed and sailed, as winds might blow; + Until at last the blanched mate said: + "Why, now not even God would know + Should I and all my men fall dead. + These very winds forget their way, + For God from these dread seas is gone. + Now speak, brave Adm'r'l; speak and say--" + He said: "Sail on! sail on! and on!" + + They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate: + "This mad sea shows his teeth to-night. + He curls his lip, he lies in wait, + With lifted teeth, as if to bite! + Brave Adm'r'l, say but one good word: + What shall we do when hope is gone?" + The words leapt like a leaping sword: + "Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!" + + Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck, + And peered through darkness. Ah, that night + Of all dark nights! And then a speck-- + It grew, a starlit flag unfurled! + It grew to be Time's burst of dawn. + He gained a world; he gave that world + Its grandest lesson: "On! sail on!" + + +_Joaquin Miller._ + +From "Joaquin Miller's Complete Poems." + + + + +PER ASPERA + +A motto has been made of the Latin phrase "per aspera ad astra," of +which the translation sometimes given is "through bolts and bars to the +stars." + + + Thank God, a man can grow! + He is not bound + With earthward gaze to creep along the ground: + Though his beginnings be but poor and low, + Thank God, a man can grow! + The fire upon his altars may burn dim, + The torch he lighted may in darkness fail, + And nothing to rekindle it avail,-- + Yet high beyond his dull horizon's rim, + Arcturus and the Pleiads beckon him. + + +_Florence Earle Coates._ + +From "Poems." + + + + +TIT FOR TAT + + +We are quick to notice obstacles, grudges, affronts. Are we equally +quick to recognize the kindly influences that speed us on our way? The +truth is we are each of us a debtor to life, and as honest men we should +do all we can to discharge the obligation. + + + "Life," you say, "'s an old curmudgeon; yes, a thing whose heart is + flint; + When I ask a friendly greeting, all I get's an angry glint. + Let me do it every good turn that I can--my very best, + Still it strikes me, trips, maligns me, and denies my least request. + + "So," you say, "my patience ended, I will give it tit for tat." + What a bunch of animosities is covered by your hat! + All the roses life can offer bloom and beckon to your soul, + But you close your eyes to roses and in thorns lie down and roll. + + Life does nothing for you, sonny? What a notion you have! Say, + Make a little inventory of its gifts to you to-day. + You've a house or room to sleep in--did you build it with your hand? + If you did, who made the hammer and who cleared for you the land? + + And electric lights--you use them; did you also put them there? + Beefsteak, coal, your mail, shoes, street cars--do they come like + rain from air? + Or do countless men, far-scattered, toil that you may have more + ease?-- + Stokers, hodmen, farmers, plumbers, Yankees, dagoes, Japanese? + + "Oh, that's general," you tell me. You have private blessings too. + Why, your mother in your childhood slaved and wrought and lived for you. + Helpful hands were all around you--hopes, fond wishes in the past; + Even now each day from somewhere friendly looks are on you cast. + + Though you've been both crossed and harried, you've not struggled + on alone; + Through the discords of endeavor comes to you an answering tone. + Life has done you many favors. Will you give it tit for tat? + Since you've looked so much at this side, won't you have a look + at that? + + Don't help only those who've helped you, count the rest as strangers, + foes; + How long now would you have lasted had all done as you propose? + Many and many a benefactor you did not nor can repay-- + There's your mother. Pass the kindness on to others--that's the way. + + Life it is that's given freely. Unto life make due return. + Whether folks are undeserving, neither seek nor wish to learn. + Hit your dernedest for your teammates every time you come to bat, + And the world will be more happy that you give it tit for tat. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +THE KINGDOM OF MAN + + +The wisest men know that the greatest world is not outside them. They +could, in Shakespeare's phrase, be bounded by a nut-shell and count +themselves kings of infinite space. + + + What of the outer drear, + As long as there's inner light; + As long as the sun of cheer + Shines ardently bright? + + As long as the soul's a-wing, + As long as the heart is true, + What power hath trouble to bring + A sorrow to you? + + No bar can encage the soul, + Nor capture the spirit free, + As long as old earth shall roll, + Or hours shall be. + + Our world is the world within, + Our life is the thought we take, + And never an outer sin + Can mar it or break. + + Brood not on the rich man's land, + Sigh not for miser's gold, + Holding in reach of your hand + The treasure untold + + That lies in the Mines of Heart, + That rests in the soul alone-- + Bid worry and care depart, + Come into your own! + + +_John Kendrick_ + +From "Songs of Cheer." + + + + +ABOU BEN ADHEM + + +"Forgive my enemies?" said the dying man to the priest. "I have none. +I've killed them all." This old ideal of exterminating our enemies has +by no means disappeared from the earth. But it is waning. "Live and let +live" is a more modern slogan, which mounts in turn from mere +toleration of other people to a spirit of service and universal +brotherhood. Love of our fellow men--has humanity reached any height +superior to this? + + + Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!) + Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, + And saw, within the moonlight in his room, + Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, + An angel writing in a book of gold:-- + Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, + And to the presence in the room he said, + "What writest thou?"--The vision raised its head, + And with a look made of all sweet accord, + Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord." + "And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so," + Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, + But cheerily still; and said, "I pray thee, then, + Write me as one that loves his fellow-men." + + The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night + It came again with a great wakening light, + And showed the names whom love of God had blessed, + And, lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. + + +_Leigh Hunt._ + + + + +THIS WORLD + +There is good in life and there is ill. The question is where we should +put the emphasis. + + + This world that we're a-livin' in + Is mighty hard to beat; + You git a thorn with every rose, + But _ain't _the roses _sweet_! + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +From "The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +GRAY DAYS + + +By reckoning up the odds against us and ignoring the forces in our +favor, we may indeed close the door of hope. But why not take matters +the other way about? Why not see the situation clearly and then throw +our own strong purpose in the scales? In the course of a battle an +officer reported to Stonewall Jackson that he must fall back because his +ammunition had been spoiled by a rainstorm. "So has the enemy's," was +the instant reply. "Give them the bayonet." This resolute spirit won the +battle. + + + Hang the gray days! + The deuce-to-pay days! + The feeling-blue and nothing-to-do days! + The sit-by-yourself-for-there's-nothing-new days! + When the cat that Care killed without excuse + With your inner self's crying, "Oh, what's the use?" + And you wonder whatever is going to become of you, + And you feel that a cipher expresses the sum of you; + And you know that you'll never, + Oh, never, be clever, + Spite of all your endeavor + Or hard work or whatever! + Oh, gee! + What a mix-up you see + When you look at the world where you happen to be! + Where strangers are hateful and friends are a bore, + And you know in your heart you will smile nevermore! + Gee, kid! + Clap on the lid! + It is all a mistake! Give your worries the skid! + There are sunny days coming + Succeeding the blue + And bees will be humming + Making honey for you, + And your heart will be singing + The merriest tune + While April is bringing + A May and a June! + Gray days? + Play days! + Joy-bringing pay days + And heart-lifting May days! + The sun will be shining in just a wee while + So smile! + + +_Griffith Alexander._ + +From "The Philadelphia Evening Public Ledger." + + + +[Illustration: EDMUND VANCE COOKE] + + + + +LAUGH A LITTLE BIT + + +"A merry heart doeth good like a medicine"; a little laughter cures many +a seeming ill. + + + Here's a motto, just your fit-- + Laugh a little bit. + When you think you're trouble hit, + Laugh a little bit. + Look misfortune in the face. + Brave the beldam's rude grimace; + Ten to one 'twill yield its place, + If you have the wit and grit + Just to laugh a little bit. + + Keep your face with sunshine lit, + Laugh a little bit. + All the shadows off will flit, + If you have the grit and wit + Just to laugh a little bit. + + Cherish this as sacred writ-- + Laugh a little bit. + Keep it with you, sample it, + Laugh a little bit. + Little ills will sure betide you, + Fortune may not sit beside you, + Men may mock and fame deride you, + But you'll mind them not a whit + If you laugh a little bit. + + +_Edmund Vance Cooke._ + +From "A Patch of Pansies." + + + + +A SONG OF LIFE + + +Many of us merely exist, and think that we live. What we should regain +at all costs is freshness and intensity of being. This need not involve +turbulent activity. It may involve quite the opposite. + + + Say not, "I live!" + Unless the morning's trumpet brings + A shock of glory to your soul, + Unless the ecstasy that sings + Through rushing worlds and insects' wings, + Sends you upspringing to your goal, + Glad of the need for toil and strife, + Eager to grapple hands with Life-- + Say not, "I live!" + + Say not, "I live!" + Unless the energy that rings + Throughout this universe of fire + A challenge to your spirit flings, + Here in the world of men and things, + Thrilling you with a huge desire + To mate your purpose with the stars, + To shout with Jupiter and Mars-- + Say not, "I live!" + + Say not, "I live!" + Such were a libel on the Plan + Blazing within the mind of God + Ere world or star or sun began. + Say rather, with your fellow man, + "I grub; I burrow in the sod." + Life is not life that does not flame + With consciousness of whence it came-- + Say not, "I live!" + + +_Angela Morgan._ + +From "The Hour Has Struck." + + + + +A POOR UNFORTUNATE + + +Things are never so bad but they might have been worse. An immigrant +into the South paid a negro to bring him a wild turkey. The next day he +complained: "You shouldn't shoot at the turkey's body, Rastus. Shoot at +his head. The flesh of that turkey was simply full of shot." "Boss," +said the negro, "dem shot was meant for me." + + + I + + His hoss went dead an' his mule went lame; + He lost six cows in a poker game; + A harricane came on a summer's day, + An' carried the house whar' he lived away; + Then a airthquake come when that wuz gone, + An' swallered the lan' that the house stood on! + An' the tax collector, _he_ come roun' + An' charged him up fer the hole in the groun'! + An' the city marshal--he come in view + An' said he wanted his street tax, too! + + II + + Did he moan an' sigh? Did he set an' cry + An' cuss the harricane sweepin' by? + Did he grieve that his ol' friends failed to call + When the airthquake come an' swallered all? + Never a word o' blame he said, + With all them troubles on top his head! + Not _him_.... He clumb to the top o' the hill-- + Whar' standin' room wuz left him still, + An', barin' his head, here's what he said: + "I reckon it's time to git up an' git; + But, Lord, I hain't had the measels yit!" + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +From "The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +THE TRAINERS + + +To Franklin, seeking recognition and aid for his country at the French +court, came news of an American disaster. "Howe has taken Philadelphia," +his opponents taunted him. "Oh, no," he answered, "Philadelphia has +taken Howe." He shrewdly foresaw that the very magnitude of what the +British had done would lull them into overconfidence and inaction, and +would stir the Americans to more determined effort. Above all, he +himself was undisturbed; for to the strong-hearted, trials and reverses +are instruments of final success. + + + My name is Trouble--I'm a busy bloke-- + I am the test of Courage--and of Class-- + I bind the coward to a bitter yoke, + I drive the craven from the crowning pass; + Weaklings I crush before they come to fame; + But as the red star guides across the night, + I train the stalwart for a better game; + I drive the brave into a harder fight. + + My name is Hard Luck--the wrecker of rare dreams-- + I follow all who seek the open fray; + I am the shadow where the far light gleams + For those who seek to know the open way; + Quitters I break before they reach the crest, + But where the red field echoes with the drums, + I build the fighter for the final test + And mold the brave for any drive that comes. + + My name is Sorrow--I shall come to all + To block the surfeit of an endless joy; + Along the Sable Road I pay my call + Before the sweetness of success can cloy; + And weaker souls shall weep amid the throng + And fall before me, broken and dismayed; + But braver hearts shall know that I belong + And take me in, serene and unafraid. + + My name's Defeat--but through the bitter fight, + To those who know, I'm something more than friend; + For I can build beyond the wrath of might + And drive away all yellow from the blend; + For those who quit, I am the final blow, + But for the brave who seek their chance to learn, + I show the way, at last, beyond the foe, + To where the scarlet flames of triumph burn. + + +_Grantland Rice._ + +From "The Sportlight." + + + + +LIFE + + +Most of us have failed or gone astray in one fashion or another, at one +time or another. But we need not become despondent at such times. We +should resolve to reap the full benefit of the discovery of our +weakness, our folly. + + + All in the dark we grope along, + And if we go amiss + We learn at least which path is wrong, + And there is gain in this. + + We do not always win the race + By only running right, + We have to tread the mountain's base + Before we reach its height. + + * * * * * + + But he who loves himself the last + And knows the use of pain, + Though strewn with errors all his past, + He surely shall attain. + + Some souls there are that needs must taste + Of wrong, ere choosing right; + We should not call those years a waste + Which led us to the light. + + +_Etta Wheeler Wilcox._ + +From "Poems of Power." + + + + +A TOAST TO MERRIMENT + + +A lady said to Whistler that there were but two painters--himself and +Velazquez. He replied: "Madam, why drag in Velazquez?" So it is with +Joyousness and Gloom. Both exist,--but why drag in Gloom? + + + Make merry! Though the day be gray + Forget the clouds and let's be gay! + How short the days we linger here: + A birth, a breath, and then--the bier! + Make merry, you and I, for when + We part we may not meet again! + + What tonic is there in a frown? + You may go up and I go down, + Or I go up and you--who knows + The way that either of us goes? + Make merry! Here's a laugh, for when + We part we may not meet again! + + Make merry! What of frets and fears? + There is no happiness in tears. + You tremble at the cloud and lo! + 'Tis gone--and so 'tis with our woe, + Full half of it but fancied ills. + Make merry! 'Tis the gloom that kills. + + Make merry! There is sunshine yet, + The gloom that promised, let's forget, + The quip and jest are on the wing, + Why sorrow when we ought to sing? + Refill the cup of joy, for then + We part and may not meet again. + + A smile, a jest, a joke--alas! + We come, we wonder, and we pass. + The shadow falls; so long we rest + In graves, where is no quip or jest. + Good day! Good cheer! Good-bye! For then + We part and may not meet again! + + +_James W. Foley._ + +From "Friendly Rhymes." + + + + +MISTRESS FATE + + +"Faint heart never won fair lady," Mistress Fate herself should be +courted, not with feminine finesse, but with masculine courage and +aggression. + + + Flout her power, young man! + She is merely shrewish, scolding,-- + She is plastic to your molding, + She is woman in her yielding to the fires desires fan. + Flout her power, young man! + + Fight her fair, strong man! + Such a serpent love is this,-- + Bitter wormwood in her kiss! + When she strikes, be nerved and ready; + Keep your gaze both bright and steady, + Chance no rapier-play, but hotly press the quarrel she began! + Fight her fair, strong man! + + Gaze her down, old man! + Now no laughter may defy her, + Not a shaft of scorn come nigh her, + But she waits within the shadows, in dark shadows very near. + And her silence is your fear. + Meet her world-old eyes of warning! Gaze them down with courage! _Can + You gaze them down, old man?_ + + +_William Rose Benét._ + +From "Merchants from Cathay." + + + + +SLEEP AND THE MONARCH + +(FROM "2 HENRY IV.") + + +The great elemental blessings cannot be "cornered." Indeed they cannot +be bought at all, but are the natural property of the man whose ways of +life are such as to retain them. In this passage a disappointed and +harassed king comments on the slumber which he cannot woo to his couch, +yet which his humblest subject enjoys. + + + How many thousand of my poorest subjects + Are at this hour asleep! O sleep! O gentle sleep! + Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, + That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down + And steep my senses in forgetfulness? + Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, + Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, + And hushed with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, + Than in the perfumed chambers of the great, + Under the canopies of costly state, + And lulled with sound of sweetest melody? + O thou dull god! why liest thou with the vile + In loathsome beds, and leav'st the kingly couch + A watch-case or a common 'larum bell? + Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast + Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains + In cradle of the rude imperious surge, + And in the visitation of the winds, + Who take the ruffian billows by the top, + Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them + With deafning clamor in the slippery clouds, + That with the hurly death itself awakes? + Canst thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose + To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude, + And in the calmest and most stillest night, + With all appliances and means to boot, + Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down! + Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +NEVER TROUBLE TROUBLE + + +To borrow trouble is to contract a debt that any man is better without. +If your troubles are not borrowed, they are not likely to be many or +great. + + + I used to hear a saying + That had a deal of pith; + It gave a cheerful spirit + To face existence with, + Especially when matters + Seemed doomed to go askew, + 'Twas _Never trouble trouble + Till trouble troubles you._ + + Not woes at hand, those coming + Are hardest to resist; + We hear them stalk like giants, + We see them through a mist. + But big things in the brewing + Are small things in the brew; + So never trouble trouble + Till trouble troubles you. + + Just look at things through glasses + That show the evidence; + One lens of them is courage, + The other common sense. + They'll make it clear, misgivings + Are just a bugaboo; + No more you'll trouble trouble + Till trouble troubles you. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +CLEAR THE WAY + + +Humanity is always meeting obstacles. All honor to the men who do not +fear obstacles, but push them aside and press on. Stephenson was +explaining his idea that a locomotive steam engine could run along a +track and draw cars after it. "But suppose a cow gets on the track," +some one objected. "So much the worse," said Stephenson, "for the cow." + + + Men of thought! be up and stirring, + Night and day; + Sow the seed, withdraw the curtain, + Clear the way! + Men of action, aid and cheer them, + As ye may! + There's a fount about to stream, + There's a light about to gleam, + There's a warmth about to glow, + There's a flower about to blow; + There's midnight blackness changing + Into gray! + Men of thought and men of action, + Clear the way! + + Once the welcome light has broken, + Who shall say + What the unimagined glories + Of the day? + What the evil that shall perish + In its ray? + Aid it, hopes of honest men; + Aid the dawning, tongue and pen; + Aid it, paper, aid it, type, + Aid it, for the hour is ripe; + And our earnest must not slacken + Into play. + Men of thought and men of action, + Clear the way! + + Lo! a cloud's about to vanish + From the day; + And a brazen wrong to crumble + Into clay! + With the Right shall many more + Enter, smiling at the door; + With the giant Wrong shall fall + Many others great and small, + That for ages long have held us + For their prey. + Men of thought and men of action, + Clear the way! + + +_Charles Mackay._ + + + + +ONE FIGHT MORE + + +We need not expect much of the man who, when defeated, gives way either +to despair or to a wild impulse for immediate revenge. But from the man +who stores up his strength quietly and bides his time for a new effort, +we may expect everything. + + + Now, think you, Life, I am defeated quite? + More than a single battle shall be mine + Before I yield the sword and give the sign + And turn, a crownless outcast, to the night. + Wounded, and yet unconquered in the fight, + I wait in silence till the day may shine + Once more upon my strength, and all the line + Of your defenses break before my might. + + Mine be that warrior's blood who, stricken sore, + Lies in his quiet chamber till he hears + Afar the clash and clang of arms, and knows + The cause he lived for calls for him once more; + And straightway rises, whole and void of fears, + And armed, turns him singing to his foes. + + +_Theodosia Garrison._ + +From "The Earth Cry." + + + + +A PSALM OF LIFE + +At times this existence of ours seems to be meaningless; whether we have +succeeded or whether we have failed appears to make little difference to +us, and therefore effort seems scarcely worth while. But Longfellow +tells us this view is all wrong. The past can take care of itself, and +we need not even worry very much about the future; but if we are true to +our own natures, we must be up and doing in the present. Time is short, +and mastery in any field of human activity is so long a process that it +forbids us to waste our moments. Yet we must learn also how to wait and +endure. In short, we must not become slaves to either indifference or +impatience, but must make it our business to play a man's part in life. + + + Tell me not, in mournful numbers, + Life is but an empty dream!-- + For the soul is dead that slumbers, + And things are not what they seem. + + Life is real! Life is earnest! + And the grave is not its goal; + Dust thou art, to dust returnest, + Was not spoken of the soul. + + Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, + Is our destined end or way; + But to act, that each to-morrow + Find us farther than to-day. + + Art is long, and Time is fleeting, + And our hearts, though stout and brave, + Still, like muffled drums, are beating + Funeral marches to the grave. + + In the world's broad field of battle, + In the bivouac of Life, + Be not like dumb, driven cattle! + Be a hero in the strife! + + Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! + Let the dead Past bury its dead! + Act,--act in the living Present! + Heart within, and God o'erhead! + + Lives of great men all remind us + We can make our lives sublime, + And, departing, leave behind us + Footprints on the sands of time; + + Footprints, that perhaps another, + Sailing o'er life's solemn main, + A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, + Seeing, shall take heart again. + + Let us, then, be up and doing, + With a heart for any fate; + Still achieving, still pursuing, + Learn to labor and to wait. + + +_Henry Wadsworth Longfellow._ + + + + +A CREED + +Men may seem sundered from each other; but the soul that each possesses, +and the destiny common to all, invest them with a basic brotherhood. + + + There is a destiny that makes us brothers: + None goes his way alone: + All that we send into the lives of others + Comes back into our own. + + I care not what his temples or his creeds, + One thing holds firm and fast-- + That into his fateful heap of days and deeds + The soul of a man is cast. + + +_Edwin Markham_ + +From "Lincoln, and Other Poems." + + + + +BATTLE CRY + +We should win if we can. But in any case we should prove our manhood by +fighting. + + + More than half beaten, but fearless, + Facing the storm and the night; + Breathless and reeling but tearless, + Here in the lull of the fight, + I who bow not but before thee, + God of the fighting Clan, + Lifting my fists, I implore Thee, + Give me the heart of a Man! + + What though I live with the winners + Or perish with those who fall? + Only the cowards are sinners, + Fighting the fight is all. + Strong is my foe--he advances! + Snapt is my blade, O Lord! + See the proud banners and lances! + Oh, spare me this stub of a sword! + + Give me no pity, nor spare me; + Calm not the wrath of my Foe. + See where he beckons to dare me! + Bleeding, half beaten--I go. + Not for the glory of winning, + Not for the fear of the night; + Shunning the battle is sinning-- + Oh, spare me the heart to fight! + + Red is the mist about me; + Deep is the wound in my side; + "Coward" thou criest to flout me? + O terrible Foe, thou hast lied! + Here with my battle before me, + God of the fighting Clan, + Grant that the woman who bore me + Suffered to suckle a Man! + + +_John G. Neihardt._ + +From "The Quest" (collected lyrics). + + + + +THE HAPPY HEART + + +One of our objects in life should be to find happiness, contentment. The +means of happiness are surprisingly simple. We need not be rich or +high-placed or powerful in order to be content. In fact the lowly are +often the best satisfied. Izaak Walton lived the simple life and thanked +God that there were so many things in the world of which he had no need. + + + Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers? + O sweet content! + Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplexed? + O punishment! + Dost thou laugh to see how fools are vexed + To add to golden numbers, golden numbers? + O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content! + Work apace, apace, apace, apace; + Honest labor bears a lovely face; + Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny! + + Canst drink the waters of the crispéd spring? + O sweet content! + Swimm'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own tears? + O punishment! + Then he that patiently want's burden bears + No burden bears, but is a king, a king! + O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content! + Work apace, apace, apace, apace; + Honest labor bears a lovely face; + Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny! + + +_Thomas Dekker._ + + + + +IF YOU CAN'T GO OVER OR UNDER, GO ROUND + + +Often the straight road to the thing we desire is blocked. We should not +then weakly give over our purpose, but should set about attaining it by +some indirect method. A politician knows that one way of getting a man's +vote is to please the man's wife, and that one way of pleasing the wife +is to kiss her baby. + + + A baby mole got to feeling big, + And wanted to show how he could dig; + So he plowed along in the soft, warm dirt + Till he hit something hard, and it surely hurt! + A dozen stars flew out of his snout; + He sat on his haunches, began to pout; + Then rammed the thing again with his head-- + His grandpap picked him up half dead. + "Young man," he said, "though your pate is bone. + You can't butt your way through solid stone. + This bit of advice is good, I've found: + If you can't go over or under, go round." + + A traveler came to a stream one day, + And because it presumed to cross his way, + And wouldn't turn round to suit his whim + And change its course to go with him, + His anger rose far more than it should, + And he vowed he'd cross right where he stood. + A man said there was a bridge below, + But not a step would he budge or go. + The current was swift and the bank was steep, + But he jumped right in with a violent leap. + A fisherman dragged him out half-drowned: + "When you can't go over or under, go round." + + If you come to a place that you can't get _through,_ + Or _over_ or _under_, the thing to do + Is to find a way _round_ the impassable wall, + Not say you'll go YOUR way or not at all. + You can always get to the place you're going, + If you'll set your sails as the wind is blowing. + If the mountains are high, go round the valley; + If the streets are blocked, go up some alley; + If the parlor-car's filled, don't scorn a freight; + If the front door's closed, go in the side gate. + To reach your goal this advice is sound: + If you can't go over or under, go round! + + + _Joseph Morris._ + + + + +THICK IS THE DARKNESS + + +How many of us forget when the sun goes down that it will rise again! + + + Thick is the darkness-- + Sunward, O, sunward! + Rough is the highway-- + Onward, still onward! + + Dawn harbors surely + East of the shadows. + Facing us somewhere + Spread the sweet meadows. + + Upward and forward! + Time will restore us: + Light is above us, + Rest is before us. + + +_William Ernest Henley._ + + + + +THE BELLY AND THE MEMBERS + +(ADAPTED FROM "CORIOLANUS") + + +No doubt the world is cursed with grafters and parasites--men who live +off the body economic and give nothing substantial in return. But an +appearance of uselessness is not always proof of such. We should not +condemn men in ignorance. As old as Aesop is the fable of the rebellion +of the other members of the body against the idle unproductiveness of +the belly. In this passage the fable is used as an answer to the +plebeians of Rome who have complained that the patricians are merely an +encumbrance. + + + There was a time when all the body's members + Rebelled against the belly; thus accused it: + That only like a gulf it did remain + I' the midst o' the body, idle and unactive, + Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing + Like labor with the rest, where the other instruments + Did see and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel, + And, mutually participant, did minister + Unto the appetite and affection common + Of the whole body. Note me this, good friend; + Your most grave belly was deliberate, + Not rash like his accusers, and thus answered: + "True is it, my incorporate friends," quoth he, + "That I receive the general food at first, + Which you do live upon; and fit it is; + Because I am the store-house and the shop + Of the whole body: but, if you do remember, + I send it through the rivers of your blood, + Even to the court, the heart, to the seat o' the brain: + And, through the cranks and offices of man, + The strongest nerves and small inferior veins + From me receive that natural competency + Whereby they live. Though all at once cannot + See what I do deliver out to each, + Yet I can make my audit up, that all + From me do back receive the flour of all, + And leave me but the bran." What say you to 't? + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +THE CELESTIAL SURGEON + + +We may acquire the resolution to be happy by resting on a bed of roses. +If that fails us, we should try a bed of nettles. + + + If I have faltered more or less + In my great task of happiness; + If I have moved among my race + And shown no glorious morning face; + If beams from happy human eyes + Have moved me not; if morning skies, + Books, and my food, and summer rain + Knocked on my sullen heart in vain:-- + Lord, thy most pointed pleasure take + And stab my spirit broad awake; + Or, Lord, if too obdurate I, + Choose thou, before that spirit die, + A piercing pain, a killing sin, + And to my dead heart run them in! + + +_Robert Louis Stevenson._ + + + + +MAN, BIRD, AND GOD + + +Robert Bruce, despairing of his country's cause, was aroused to new hope +and purpose by the sight of a spider casting its lines until at last it +had one that held. In the following passage the poet, uncertain as to +his own future, yet trusts the providence which guides the birds in +their long and uncharted migrations. + + + I go to prove my soul! + I see my way as birds their trackless way. + I shall arrive! what time, what circuit first, + I ask not: but unless God send his hail + Or blinding fireballs, sleet or stifling snow, + In some time, his good time, I shall arrive: + He guides me and the bird. In his good time! + + +_Robert Browning._ + + + + +HIS ALLY + + +The thought of this poem is that a man's best helper may be that which +gives him no direct aid at all--a sense of humor. + + + He fought for his soul, and the stubborn fighting + Tried hard his strength. + "One needs seven souls for this long requiting," + He said at length. + + "Six times have I come where my first hope jeered me + And laughed me to scorn; + But now I fear as I never feared me + To fall forsworn. + + "God! when they fight upright and at me + I give them back + Even such blows as theirs that combat me; + But now, alack! + + "They fight with the wiles of fiends escaping + And underhand. + Six times, O God, and my wounds are gaping! + I--reel to stand. + + "Six battles' span! By this gasping breath + No pantomime. + Tis all that I can. I am sick unto death. + And--a seventh time? + + "This is beyond all battles' soreness!" + Then his wonder cried; + For Laughter, with shield and steely harness, + Stood up at his side! + + +_William Rose Benét,_ + +From "Merchants from Cathay." + + + + +SUBMISSION + + +There are times when the right thing to do is to submit. There are times +when the right thing is to strive, to fight. To put forth one's best +effort is itself a reward. But sometimes it brings a material reward +also. The frog that after falling into the churn found that it couldn't +jump out and wouldn't try, was drowned. The frog that kept leaping in +brave but seemingly hopeless endeavor at last churned the milk, mounted +the butter for a final effort, and escaped. + + + Submission? They have preached at that so long. + As though the head bowed down would right the wrong, + As though the folded hand, the coward heart + Were saintly signs of souls sublimely strong; + As though the man who acts the waiting part + And but submits, had little wings a-start. + But may I never reach that anguished plight + Where I at last grow weary of the fight. + + Submission: "Wrong of course must ever be + Because it ever was. 'Tis not for me + To seek a change; to strike the maiden blow. + 'Tis best to bow the head and not to see; + 'Tis best to dream, that we need never know + The truth. To turn our eyes away from woe." + Perhaps. But ah--I pray for keener sight, + And may I not grow weary of the fight. + + +_Miriam Teichner._ + + + + +A PRAYER + + +Garibaldi, the Italian patriot, said to his men: "I do not promise you +ease; I do not promise you comfort. I promise you hardship, weariness, +suffering; but I promise you victory." + + + I do not pray for peace, + Nor ask that on my path + The sounds of war shall shrill no more, + The way be clear of wrath. + But this I beg thee, Lord, + Steel Thou my heart with might, + And in the strife that men call life, + Grant me the strength to fight. + + I do not pray for arms, + Nor shield to cover me. + What though I stand with empty hand, + So it be valiantly! + Spare me the coward's fear-- + Questioning wrong or right: + Lord, among these mine enemies, + Grant me the strength to fight. + + I do not pray that Thou + Keep me from any wound, + Though I fall low from thrust and blow, + Forced fighting to the ground; + But give me wit to hide + My hurt from all men's sight, + And for my need the while I bleed, + Lord, grant me strength to fight. + + I do not pray that Thou + Shouldst grant me victory; + Enough to know that from my foe + I have no will to flee. + Beaten and bruised and banned, + Flung like a broken sword, + Grant me this thing for conquering-- + Let me die fighting, Lord! + + +_Theodosia Garrison._ + +From "The Earth Cry." + + + + +STABILITY + + +Whom do we wish for our friends and allies? On whom would we wish to +depend in a time of need? Those who are not the slaves of fortune, but +have made the most of both her buffets and her rewards. Those who +control their fears and rash impulses, and do not give way to sudden +emotion. Amid confusion and disaster men like these will stand, as +Jackson did at Bull Run, like a veritable stone wall. + + + Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice + And could of men distinguish, her election + Hath sealed thee for herself; for thou hast been + As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing, + A man that fortune's buffets and rewards + Hast ta'en with equal thanks; and bless'd are those + Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled + That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger + To sound what stop she please. Give me that man + That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him + In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, + As I do thee. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +THE BARS OF FATE + + +"There ain't no such beast," ejaculated a farmer as he gazed at the +rhinoceros at a circus. His incredulity did not of course do away with +the existence of the creature. But our incredulity about many of our +difficulties will do away with them. They exist chiefly in our +imaginations. + + + I stood before the bars of Fate + And bowed my head disconsolate; + So high they seemed, so fierce their frown. + I thought no hand could break them down. + + Beyond them I could hear the songs + Of valiant men who marched in throngs; + And joyful women, fair and free, + Looked back and waved their hands to me. + + I did not cry "Too late! too late!" + Or strive to rise, or rail at Fate, + Or pray to God. My coward heart, + Contented, played its foolish part. + + So still I sat, the tireless bee + Sped o'er my head, with scorn for me, + And birds who build their nests in air + Beheld me, as I were not there. + + From twig to twig, before my face, + The spiders wove their curious lace, + As they a curtain fine would see + Between the hindering bars and me. + + Then, sudden change! I heard the call + Of wind and wave and waterfall; + From heaven above and earth below + A clear command--"ARISE AND GO!" + + I upward sprang in all my strength, + And stretched my eager hands at length + To break the bars--no bars were there; + My fingers fell through empty air! + + +_Ellen M.H. Gates._ + +From "To the Unborn Peoples." + + + + +ULTIMATE ACT + + +It is well to have purposes we can carry out. It is also well to have +purposes so lofty that we cannot carry them out; for these latter are +the mighty inner fires which warm our being at its core and without +which our impulse to do even the lesser things would be feeble. + + + I had rather cut man's purpose deeper than + Achieving it be crowned as conqueror; + To will divinely is to accomplish more + Than a mere deed: it fills anew the wan + Aspect of life with blood; it draws upon + Sources beyond the common reach and lore + Of mortals, to replenish at its core + The God-impassioned energy of man. + And herewith all the worlds of deed and thought + Quicken again with meaning--pulse and thrill + With Deity--that had forgot His touch. + There is not any act avails so much + As this invisible wedding of the will + With Life--yea, though it seem to accomplish naught. + + +_Henry Bryan Binns._ + +From "The Free Spirit." + + + + +HE WHOM A DREAM HATH POSSESSED + + +The man possessed by a vision is not perplexed, troubled, restricted, as +the rest of us are. He wanders yet is not lost from home, sees a million +dawns yet never night descending, faces death and destruction and in +them finds triumph. + + + He whom a dream hath possessed knoweth no more of doubting, + For mist and the blowing of winds and the mouthing of words he scorns; + Not the sinuous speech of schools he hears, but a knightly shouting, + And never comes darkness down, yet he greeteth a million morns. + + He whom a dream hath possessed knoweth no more of roaming; + All roads and the flowing of waves and the speediest flight he knows, + But wherever his feet are set, his soul is forever homing, + And going, he comes, and coming he heareth a call and goes. + + He whom a dream hath possessed knoweth no more of sorrow, + At death and the dropping of leaves and the fading of suns he smiles, + For a dream remembers no past and scorns the desire of a morrow, + And a dream in a sea of doom sets surely the ultimate isles. + + He whom a dream hath possessed treads the impalpable marches, + From the dust of the day's long road he leaps to a laughing star, + And the ruin of worlds that fall he views from eternal arches, + And rides God's battlefield in a flashing and golden car. + + +_Sheamus O Sheel._ + +From "The Lyric Year." + + + + +SUCCESS + + +As necessity is the mother of invention, strong desire is the mother of +attainment. + + + If you want a thing bad enough + To go out and fight for it, + Work day and night for it, + Give up your time and your peace and your sleep for it + If only desire of it + Makes you quite mad enough + Never to tire of it, + Makes you hold all other things tawdry and cheap for it + If life seems all empty and useless without it + And all that you scheme and you dream is about it, + If gladly you'll sweat for it, + Fret for it, + Plan for it, + Lose all your terror of God or man for it, + If you'll simply go after that thing that you want, + With all your capacity, + Strength and sagacity, + Faith, hope and confidence, stern pertinacity, + If neither cold poverty, famished and gaunt, + Nor sickness nor pain + Of body or brain + Can turn you away from the thing that you want, + If dogged and grim you besiege and beset it, + _You'll get it!_ + + +_Berton Braley._ + +From "Things As They Are." + + + + +PLAY THE GAME + + +The Duke of Wellington said that the battle of Waterloo was won on the +cricket fields of Eton. English sport at its best is admirable; it asks +outward triumph if possible, but far more it asks that one do his best +till the very end and treat his opponent with courtesy and fairness. The +spirit thus instilled at school has again and again been carried in +after life into the large affairs of the nation. + + + There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night-- + Ten to make and the match to win-- + A bumping pitch and a blinding light, + An hour to play and the last man in. + And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat + Or the selfish hope of a season's fame, + But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote; + "Play up! Play up! And play the game!" + + The sand of the desert is sodden red-- + Red with the wreck of a square that broke; + The Gatling's jammed and the colonel dead, + And the regiment's blind with dust and smoke. + The river of death has brimmed his banks, + And England's far and Honor a name, + But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks, + "Play up! Play up! And play the game!" + + This is the word that year by year, + While in her place the School is set, + Every one of her sons must hear, + And none that hears it dare forget. + This they all with a joyful mind + Bear through life like a torch in flame, + And falling, fling to the host behind-- + "Play up! Play up! And play the game!" + + +_Henry Newbolt._ + +From "Admirals All, and Other Verses." + + + + +THE MAN WHO FRETS AT WORLDLY STRIFE + + +"Lord, what fools these mortals be!" exclaims Puck in _A Mid-summer +Night's Dream. _And well might the fairy marvel who sees folk vexing +themselves over matters that nine times out of ten come to nothing. Much +wiser is the man who smiles at misfortunes, even when they are real ones +and affect him personally. Charles Lamb once cheerfully helped to hiss +off the stage a play he himself had written. + + + The man who frets at worldly strife + Grows sallow, sour, and thin; + Give us the lad whose happy life + Is one perpetual grin: + He, Midas-like, turns all to gold-- + He smiles when others sigh, + Enjoys alike the hot and cold, + And laughs though wet or dry. + + There's fun in everything we meet,-- + The greatest, worst, and best; + Existence is a merry treat, + And every speech a jest: + + * * * * * + + So, come what may, the man's in luck + Who turns it all to glee, + And laughing, cries, with honest Puck, + "Good Lord! what fools ye be." + + +_Joseph Rodman Drake._ + + + + +SERENITY + + +Calmness of mind to face anything the future may have in store is +expressed in this quatrain. + + + Here's a sigh to those who love me + And a smile to those who hate; + And whatever sky's above me, + Here's a heart for every fate. + + +_Lord Byron._ + + + + +HERE'S HOPIN' + + +An optimist has been described as a man who orders oysters at a +restaurant and expects to find a pearl to pay the bill with. This of +course is not optimism, but brazen brainlessness. Yet somehow the pearls +come only to those who expect them. + + + Year ain't been the very best;-- + Purty hard by trouble pressed; + But the rough way leads to rest,-- + Here's hopin'! + + Maybe craps way short; the rills + Couldn't turn the silent mills; + But the light's behind the hills,-- + Here's hopin'! + + Where we planted roses sweet + Thorns come up an' pricked the feet; + But this old world's hard to beat,-- + Here's hopin'! + + P'r'aps the buildin' that we planned + 'Gainst the cyclone couldn't stand; + But, thank God we've got the _land_,-- + Here's hopin'! + + Maybe flowers we hoped to save + Have been scattered on a grave; + But the heart's still beatin' brave,-- + Here's hopin'! + + That we'll see the mornin' light-- + That the very darkest night + Can't hide heaven from our sight,-- + Here's hopin'! + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +From "The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +CLEON AND I + + +Toward the end of the yacht race in which the _America_ won her historic +cup the English monarch, who was one of the spectators, inquired: "Which +boat is first?" "The _America_ seems to be first, your majesty," replied +an aide. "And which is second?" asked the monarch. "Your majesty, there +seems to be no second." So it is in the race for happiness. The man who +is natural, who is open and kind of heart, is always first. The man who +is merely rich or sheltered or proud is not even a good second. + + + Cleon hath a million acres, ne'er a one have I; + Cleon dwelleth in a palace, in a cottage I; + Cleon hath a dozen fortunes, not a penny I; + Yet the poorer of the twain is Cleon, and not I. + + Cleon, true, possesses acres, but the landscape I; + Half the charm to me it yieldeth money can not buy, + Cleon harbors sloth and dullness, freshening vigor I; + He in velvet, I in fustian, richer man am I. + + Cleon is a slave to grandeur, free as thought am I; + Cleon fees a score of doctors, need of none have I; + Wealth-surrounded, care-environed, Cleon fears to die; + Death may come, he'll find me ready, happier man am I. + + Cleon sees no charm in nature, in a daisy I; + Cleon hears no anthems ringing in the sea and sky; + Nature sings to me forever, earnest listener I; + State for state, with all attendants, who would change? + Not I. + + +_Charles Mackay_. + + + + +THE PESSIMIST + + +Most of our ills and troubles are not very serious when we come to +examine the realities of them. Or perhaps we expect too much. An old +negro was complaining that the railroad would not pay him for his mule, +which it had killed--nay, would not even give him back his rope. "What +rope?" he was asked. "Why, sah," answered he, "de rope dat I tied de +mule on de track wif." + + + Nothing to do but work, + Nothing to eat but food, + Nothing to wear but clothes + To keep one from going nude. + + Nothing to breathe but air + Quick as a flash 'tis gone; + Nowhere to fall but off, + Nowhere to stand but on. + + Nothing to comb but hair, + Nowhere to sleep but in bed, + Nothing to weep but tears, + Nothing to bury but dead. + + Nothing to sing but songs, + Ah, well, alas! alack! + Nowhere to go but out, + Nowhere to come but back. + + Nothing to see but sights, + Nothing to quench but thirst, + Nothing to have but what we've got; + Thus thro' life we are cursed. + + Nothing to strike but a gait; + Everything moves that goes. + Nothing at all but common sense + Can ever withstand these woes. + + +_Ben King_. + +From "Ben King's Verse." + + + + +A PROBLEM TO BE SOLVED + + +There are irritating, troublesome people about us. Of what use is it to +be irritating in our turn or to add to the trouble? Most offenders have +their better side. Our wisest course is to find this and upon the basis +of it build up a better relationship. + + + There's a fellow in your office + Who complains and carps and whines + Till you'd almost do a favor + To his heirs and his assigns. + But I'll tip you to a secret + (And this chap's of course involved)-- + He's no foeman to be fought with; + He's a problem to be solved. + + There's a duffer in your district + Whose sheer cussedness is such + He has neither pride nor manners-- + No, nor gumption, overmuch. + 'Twould be great to up and tell him + Where to go. But be resolved-- + He's no foeman to be fought with, + Just a problem to be solved. + + This old earth's (I'm sometimes thinking) + One menagerie of freaks-- + Folks invested with abnormal + Lungs or brains or galls or beaks. + But we're not just shrieking monkeys + In a dim, vast cage revolved; + We're not foemen to be fought with, + Merely problems to be solved. + + +_St. Clair Adams_. + + + + +PROSPICE + + +Here the poet looks forward to death. He does not ask for an easy death; +he does not wish to creep past an experience which all men sooner or +later must face, and which many men have faced so heroically. He has +fought well in life; he wishes to make the last fight too. The poem was +written shortly after the death of Mrs. Browning, and the closing lines +refer to her. + + + Fear death?--to feel the fog in my throat, + The mist in my face, + When the snows begin, and the blasts denote + I am nearing the place, + The power of the night, the press of the storm, + The post of the foe; + Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form, + Yet the strong man must go: + For the journey is done and the summit attained, + And the barriers fall, + Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be gained, + The reward of it all. + I was ever a fighter, so--one fight more, + The best and the last! + I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forbore. + And bade me creep past. + No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers + The heroes of old, + Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears + Of pain, darkness and cold. + For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, + The black minute's at end, + And the elements' rage, the fiend-voices that rave, + Shall dwindle, shall blend, + Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain, + Then a light, then thy breast, + O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again, + And with God be the rest! + + +_Robert Browning_. + + + + +THE GREATNESS OF THE SOUL + + +Geologists tell us that in the long processes of the ages mountains have +been raised and leveled, continents formed and washed away. Astronomers +tell us that in space are countless worlds, many of them doubtless +inhabited--perhaps by creatures of a lower type than we, perhaps by +creatures of a higher. The magnitude of these changes and of these +worlds makes the imagination reel. But on one thing we can rely--the +greatness of the human soul. On one thing we can confidently build--the +men whose spirit is lofty, divine. + + + For tho' the Giant Ages heave the hill + And break the shore, and evermore + Make and break, and work their will; + Tho' world on world in myriad myriads roll + Round us, each with different powers, + And other forms of life than ours, + What know we greater than the soul? + On God and Godlike men we build our trust. + + + _Alfred Tennyson_. + + + + +HEINELET + + +What sheer perseverance can accomplish, even in matters of the heart, is +revealed in this little poem written in Heine's mood of mingled +seriousness and gayety. + + + He asked if she ever could love him. + She answered him, no, on the spot. + He asked if she ever could love him. + She assured him again she could not. + + He asked if she ever could love him. + She laughed till his blushes he hid. + He asked if she ever could love him. + By God, she admitted she did. + + +_Gamaliel Bradford_. + +From "Shadow Verses." + + + + +STAND FORTH! + + +The human spirit can triumph over difficulties, as flowers bloom along +the edge of the Alpine snow. + + + Stand forth, my soul, and grip thy woe, + Buckle the sword and face thy foe. + What right hast thou to be afraid + When all the universe will aid? + Ten thousand rally to thy name, + Horses and chariots of flame. + Do others fear? Do others fail? + _My soul must grapple and prevail_. + My soul must scale the mountainside + And with the conquering army ride-- + Stand forth, my soul! + + Stand forth, my soul, and take command. + 'Tis I, thy master, bid thee stand. + Claim thou thy ground and thrust thy foe, + Plead not thine enemy should go. + Let others cringe! My soul is free, + No hostile host can conquer me. + There lives no circumstance so great + Can make me yield, or doubt my fate. + My soul must know what kings have known. + Must reach and claim its rightful throne-- + Stand forth, my soul! + + I ask no truce, I have no qualms, + I seek no quarter and no alms. + Let those who will obey the sod, + My soul sprang from the living God. + 'Tis I, the king, who bid thee stand; + Grasp with thy hand my royal hand-- + Stand forth! + + +_Angela Morgan_. + +From "The Hour Has Struck." + + + + +[Illustration: WALT MASON] + + + + +LIONS AND ANTS + + + Once a hunter met a lion near the hungry critter's lair, and the + way that lion mauled him was decidedly unfair; but the hunter + never whimpered when the surgeons, with their thread, sewed up + forty-seven gashes in his mutilated head; and he showed the + scars in triumph, and they gave him pleasant fame, and he + always blessed the lion that had camped upon his frame. Once + that hunter, absent minded, sat upon a hill of ants, and about + a million bit him, and you should have seen him dance! And he + used up lots of language of a deep magenta tint, and + apostrophized the insects in a style unfit to print. And it's + thus with worldly troubles; when the big ones come along, we + serenely go to meet them, feeling valiant, bold and strong, but + the weary little worries with their poisoned stings and smarts, + put the lid upon our courage, make us gray, and break our + hearts. + + +_Walt Mason_. + +From "Walt Mason, His Book." + + + + +LIFE, NOT DEATH + + +Sometimes life is so unsatisfying that we think we should like to be rid +of it. But we really are not longing for death; we are longing for more +life. + + + Whatever crazy sorrow saith, + No life that breathes with human breath + Has ever truly longed for death. + + 'Tis life, whereof our nerves are scant, + Oh life, not death, for which we pant; + More life, and fuller, that I want. + + +_Alfred Tennyson_. + + + + +THE UNMUSICAL SOLOIST + + +In any sort of athletic contest a man who individually is good--perhaps +even of the very best--may be a poor member of the team because he +wishes to do all the playing himself and will not co-operate with his +fellows. Every coach knows how such a man hashes the game. The same +thing is true in business or in anything else where many people work +together; a really capable man often fails because he hogs the center of +the stage and wants to be the whole show. To seek petty, immediate +triumphs instead of earning and waiting for the big, silent approval of +one's own conscience and of those who understand, is a mark of +inferiority. It is also a barrier to usefulness, for an egotistical man +is necessarily selfish and a selfish man cannot co-operate. + + + Music hath charms--at least it should; + Even a homely voice sounds good + That sings a cheerful, gladsome song + That shortens the way, however long. + A screechy fife, a bass drum's beat + Is wonderful music to marching feet; + A scratchy fiddle or banjo's thump + May tickle the toes till they want to jump. + But one musician fills the air + With discords that jar folks everywhere. + A pity it is he ever was born-- + The discordant fellow who toots his own horn. + + He gets in the front where all can see-- + "Now turn the spot-light right on me," + He says, and sings in tones sonorous + His own sweet halleluiah chorus. + Refrain and verse are both the same-- + The pronoun I or his own name. + He trumpets his worth with such windy tooting + That louder it sounds than cowboys shooting. + This man's a nuisance wherever he goes, + For the world soon tires of the chap who blows. + Whether mighty in station or hoer of corn, + Unwelcome's the fellow who toots his own horn. + + The poorest woodchopper makes the most sound; + A poor cook clatters the most pans around; + The rattling spoke carries least of the load; + And jingling pennies pay little that's owed; + A rooster crows but lays no eggs; + A braggart blows but drives no pegs. + He works out of harmony with any team, + For others are skim milk and he is the cream. + "The world," so far as he can see, + "Consists of a few other folks and ME." + He richly deserves to be held in scorn-- + The ridiculous fellow who toots his own horn. + + +_Joseph Morris_. + + + + +ON DOWN THE ROAD + + +Hazlitt said that the defeat of the Whigs could be read in the shifting +and irresolute countenance of Charles James Fox, and the triumph of the +Tories in Pitt's "aspiring nose." The empires of the Montezumas are +conquered by men who, like Cortez, risk everything in the enterprise and +make retreat impossible by burning their ships behind them. + + + Hold to the course, though the storms are about you; + Stick to the road where the banner still flies; + Fate and his legions are ready to rout you-- + Give 'em both barrels--and aim for their eyes. + + Life's not a rose bed, a dream or a bubble, + A living in clover beneath cloudless skies; + And Fate hates a fighter who's looking for trouble, + So give 'im both barrels--and shoot for the eyes. + + Fame never comes to the loafers and sitters, + Life's full of knots in a shifting disguise; + Fate only picks on the cowards and quitters, + So give 'em both barrels--and aim for the eyes. + + +_Grantland Rice_. + +From "The Sportlight." + + + + +MEETIN' TROUBLE + + +Some students of biology planned a trick on their professor. They took +the head of one beetle, the body of another of a totally different +species, the wings of a third, the legs of a fourth. These members they +carefully pasted together. Then they asked the professor what kind of +bug the creature was. He answered promptly, "A humbug." Just such a +monstrosity is trouble--especially future trouble. Some things about it +are real, but the whole combined menace is only an illusion, not a thing +which actually exists at all. Face the trouble itself; give no heed to +that idea of it which invests it with a hundred dire calamities. + + + Trouble in the distance seems all-fired big-- + Sorter makes you shiver when you look at it a-comin'; + Makes you wanter edge aside, er hide, er take a swig + Of somethin' that is sure to set your worried head a-hummin'. + Trouble in the distance is a mighty skeery feller-- + But wait until it reaches you afore you start to beller! + + Trouble standin' in th' road and frownin' at you, black, + Makes you feel like takin' to the weeds along the way; + Wish to goodness you could turn and hump yerself straight back; + Know 'twill be awful when he gets you close at bay! + Trouble standin' in the road is bound to make you shy-- + But wait until it reaches you afore you start to cry! + + Trouble face to face with you ain't pleasant, but you'll find + That it ain't one-ha'f as big as fust it seemed to be; + Stand up straight and bluff it out! Say, "I gotter a mind + To shake my fist and skeer you off--you don't belong ter me!" + Trouble face to face with you? Though you mayn't feel gay, + Laugh at it as if you wuz--and it'll sneak away! + + +_Everard Jack Appleton_. + +From "The Quiet Courage." + + + + +PRESS ON + + +The spirit that has tamed this continent is the spirit which says, +"Press on." It appeals, not so much to men in the mass, as to +individuals. There is only one way for mankind to go forward. Each +individual must be determined that, come what will, he will never quail +or recede. + + + Press on! Surmount the rocky steps, + Climb boldly o'er the torrent's arch; + He fails alone who feebly creeps, + He wins who dares the hero's march. + Be thou a hero! Let thy might + Tramp on eternal snows its way, + And through the ebon walls of night + Hew down a passage unto day. + + Press on! If once and twice thy feet + Slip back and stumble, harder try; + From him who never dreads to meet + Danger and death they're sure to fly. + To coward ranks the bullet speeds, + While on their breasts who never quail, + Gleams, guardian of chivalric deeds, + Bright courage like a coat of mail. + + Press on! If Fortune play thee false + To-day, to-morrow she'll be true; + Whom now she sinks she now exalts, + Taking old gifts and granting new, + The wisdom of the present hour + Makes up the follies past and gone; + To weakness strength succeeds, and power + From frailty springs! Press on, press on! + + +_Park Benjamin_. + + + + +MY CREED + + +We all have a philosophy of life, whether or not we formulate it. Does +it end in self, or does it include our relations and our duties to our +fellows? General William Booth of the Salvation Army was once asked to +send a Christmas greeting to his forces throughout the world. His life +had been spent in unselfish service; over the cable he sent but one +word--OTHERS. + + + This is my creed: To do some good, + To bear my ills without complaining, + To press on as a brave man should + For honors that are worth the gaining; + To seek no profits where I may, + By winning them, bring grief to others; + To do some service day by day + In helping on my toiling brothers + + This is my creed: To close my eyes + To little faults of those around me; + To strive to be when each day dies + Some better than the morning found me; + To ask for no unearned applause, + To cross no river until I reach it; + To see the merit of the cause + Before I follow those who preach it. + + This is my creed: To try to shun + The sloughs in which the foolish wallow; + To lead where I may be the one + Whom weaker men should choose to follow. + To keep my standards always high, + To find my task and always do it; + This is my creed--I wish that I + Could learn to shape my action to it. + + +_S.E. Kiser._ + + + + +CO-OPERATION + + +"We must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately," +Benjamin Franklin is reported to have said at the signing of the +Declaration of Independence. + + + It ain't the guns nor armament, + Nor funds that they can pay, + But the close co-operation, + That makes them win the day. + + It ain't the individual, + Nor the army as a whole, + But the everlasting team-work + Of every bloomin' soul. + + +_J. Mason Knox_. + + + + +THE NOBLE NATURE + + +There is a deceptive glamour about mere bigness. Quality may accompany +quantity, but it need not. In fact good things are usually done up in +small parcels. "I could eat you at a mouthful," roared a bulky opponent +to the small and sickly Alexander H. Stephens. "If you did," replied +Stephens quietly, "you'd have more brains in your belly than ever you +had in your head." + + + It is not growing like a tree + In bulk, doth make Man better be; + Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, + To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere: + A lily of a day + Is fairer far in May, + Although it fall and die that night-- + It was the plant and flower of Light. + In small proportions we just beauties see; + And in short measures life may perfect be. + + +_Ben Jonson_. + + + + +DAYS OF CHEER + + +Edison says that genius is two parts inspiration, ninety-eight parts +perspiration. So happiness is two parts circumstance, ninety-eight parts +mental attitude. + + + "Feelin' fine," he used to say, + Come a clear or cloudy day, + Wave his hand, an' shed a smile, + Keepin' sunny all th' while. + Never let no bugbears grim + Git a wrastle-holt o' him, + Kep' a-smilin' rain or shine, + Tell you he was "feelin' fine!" + + "Feelin' fine," he used to say + Wave his hand an' go his way. + Never had no time to lose + So he said, fighting blues. + Had a twinkle in his eye + Always when a-goin' by, + Sort o' smile up into mine, + Tell me he was "feelin' fine!" + + "Feelin' fine," he'd allus say, + An' th' sunshine seemed to stay + Close by him, or else he shone + With some sunshine of his own. + Didn't seem no clouds could dim + Any happiness for him, + Allus seemed to have a line + Out f'r gladness--"feelin' fine!" + + "Feelin' fine," I've heard him say + Half a dozen times a day, + An' as many times I knowed + He was bearin' up a load. + But he never let no grim + Troubles git much holt on him, + Kep' his spirits jest like wine, + Bubblin' up an' "feelin' fine!" + + "Feelin' fine"--I hope he'll stay + All his three score that-a-way, + Lettin' his demeanor be + Sech as you could have or me + Ef we tried, an' went along + Spillin' little drops o' song, + Lettin' rosebuds sort o' twine + O'er th' thorns and "feelin' fine." + + +_James W. Foley_. + +From "Tales of the Trail." + + + + + +DE SUNFLOWER AIN'T DE DAISY + + +"Know yourself," said the Greeks. "Be yourself," bade Marcus Aurelius. +"Give yourself," taught the Master. Though the third precept is the +noblest, the first and second are admirable also. The second is violated +on all hands. Yet to be what nature planned us--to develop our own +natural selves--is better than to copy those who are wittier or wiser or +otherwise better endowed than we. Genuineness should always be preferred +to imitation. + + + De sunflower ain't de daisy, and de melon ain't de rose; + Why is dey all so crazy to be sumfin else dat grows? + Jess stick to de place yo're planted, and do de bes yo knows; + Be de sunflower or de daisy, de melon or de rose. + Don't be what yo ain't, jess yo be what yo is, + If yo am not what yo are den yo is not what you is, + If yo're jess a little tadpole, don't yo try to be de frog; + If yo are de tail, don't yo try to wag de dawg. + Pass de plate if yo can't exhawt and preach; + If yo're jess a little pebble, don't yo try to be de beach; + When a man is what he isn't, den he isn't what he is, + An' as sure as I'm talking, he's a-gwine to get his. + + +_Anonymous_. + + + + +THE DAFFODILS + + +The poet in lonely mood came suddenly upon a host of daffodils and was +thrilled by their joyous beauty. But delightful as the immediate scene +was, it was by no means the best part of his experience. For long +afterwards, when he least expected it, memory brought back the flowers +to the eye of his spirit, filled his solitary moments with thoughts of +past happiness, and took him once more (so to speak) into the free open +air and the sunshine. Just so for us the memory of happy sights we have +seen comes back again to bring us pleasure. + + + I wander'd lonely as a cloud + That floats on high o'er vales and hills, + When all at once I saw a crowd, + A host of golden daffodils, + Beside the lake, beneath the trees, + Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. + + Continuous as the stars that shine + And twinkle on the milky way, + They stretch'd in never-ending line + Along the margin of a bay: + Ten thousand saw I at a glance + Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. + + The waves beside them danced, but they + Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:-- + A Poet could not but be gay + In such a jocund company! + I gazed--and gazed--but little thought + What wealth the show to me had brought; + + For oft, when on my couch I lie + In vacant or in pensive mood, + They flash upon that inward eye + Which is the bliss of solitude; + And then my heart with pleasure fills, + And dances with the daffodils. + + +_William Wordsworth._ + + + +[Illustration: FRANK L. STANTON] + + + + +A LITTLE THANKFUL SONG + + +No man is without a reason to be thankful. If he lacks gratitude, the +fault lies at least partly with himself. + + + For what are we thankful for? For this: + For the breath and the sunlight of life + For the love of the child, and the kiss + On the lips of the mother and wife. + For roses entwining, + For bud and for bloom, + And hopes that are shining + Like stars in the gloom. + + For what are we thankful for? For this: + The strength and the patience of toil; + For ever the dreams that are bliss-- + The hope of the seed in the soil. + For souls that are whiter + From day unto day; + And lives that are brighter + From going God's way. + + For what are we thankful for? For all: + The sunlight--the shadow--the song; + The blossoms may wither and fall, + But the world moves in music along! + For simple, sweet living, + (Tis love that doth teach it) + A heaven forgiving + And faith that can reach it! + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +From "The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +TWO RAINDROPS + +(A FABLE) + + +An egotist is not only selfish; he is usually ridiculous as well, for he +sets us to wondering as to any possible ground for his exalted opinion +of himself. The real workers do not emphasize their superiority to other +people, do not even emphasize the differences, but are grateful that +they may share in humanity's privilege of rendering service. + + + Two little raindrops were born in a shower, + And one was so pompously proud of his power, + He got in his head an extravagant notion + He'd hustle right off and swallow the ocean. + A blade of grass that grew by the brook + Called for a drink, but no notice he took + Of such trifling things. He must hurry to be + Not a mere raindrop, but the whole sea. + A stranded ship needed water to float, + But he could not bother to help a boat. + He leaped in the sea with a puff and a blare-- + And nobody even knew he was there! + + But the other drop as along it went + Found the work to do for which it was sent: + It refreshed the lily that drooped its head, + And bathed the grass that was almost dead. + It got under the ships and helped them along, + And all the while sang a cheerful song. + It worked every step of the way it went, + Bringing joy to others, to itself content. + At last it came to its journey's end, + And welcomed the sea as an old-time friend. + "An ocean," it said, "there could not be + Except for the millions of drops like me." + + +_Joseph Morris,_ + + + + +MY WAGE + + +We may as well aim high as low, ask much as little. The world will not +miss what it gives us, and our reward will largely be governed by our +demands. + + + I bargained with Life for a penny, + And Life would pay no more, + However I begged at evening + When I counted my scanty store; + + For Life is a just employer, + He gives you what you ask, + But once you have set the wages, + Why, you must bear the task. + + I worked for a menial's hire, + Only to learn, dismayed, + That any wage I had asked of Life, + Life would have paid. + + +_Jessie B. Rittenhouse._ + +From "The Door of Dreams." + + + + + +THE GIFT + + +"Trust thyself," says Emerson; "every heart vibrates to that iron +string." This is wholesome and inspiring advice, but there is, as always, +another side to the question. Many a man falls into absurdities and +mistakes because he cannot get outside of himself and look at himself +from other people's eyes. We should cultivate the ability to see +everything, including ourselves, from more than one standpoint. + + + O wad some Pow'r the giftie gie us + To see oursels as ithers see us! + It wad frae mony a blunder free us, + And foolish notion; + What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, + And ev'n devotion! + + +_Robert Burns._ + + + + +PROMETHEUS UNBOUND + + +In the poem from which this excerpt is taken, Prometheus the Titan has +been cruelly tortured for opposing the malignant will of Jupiter. In the +end Prometheus wins a complete outward victory. Better still, by his +steadfastness and high purpose he has won a great inward triumph. The +spirit that has actuated him and the nature of his achievement are +expressed in the following lines. + + + To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite; + To forgive wrongs darker than death or night; + To defy Power, which seems omnipotent; + To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates + From its own wreck the thing it contemplates; + Neither to change, nor falter, nor repent; + This, like thy glory, Titan, is to be + Good, great and joyous, beautiful and free; + This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory. + + +_Percy Bysshe Shelley._ + + + + +VICTORY IN DEFEAT + + +The great, radiant souls of earth--the Davids, the Shakespeares, the +Lincolns--know grief and affliction as well as joy and triumph. But +adversity is never to them mere adversity; it + + "Doth suffer a sea-change + Into something rich and strange"; + +and in the crucible of character their suffering itself is transmuted +into song. + + + Defeat may serve as well as victory + To shake the soul and let the glory out. + When the great oak is straining in the wind, + The boughs drink in new beauty, and the trunk + Sends down a deeper root on the windward side. + Only the soul that knows the mighty grief + Can know the mighty rapture. Sorrows come + To stretch out spaces in the heart for joy. + + +_Edwin Markham._ + +From "The Shoes of Happiness, and Other Poems." + + + + +THE RICHER MINES + + +No man is so poor but that he is a stockholder. Yet many a man has no +real riches; his stocks draw dividends in dollars and cents only. + + + When it comes to buying shares + In the mines of earth, + May I join the millionaires + Who are rich in mirth. + + Let me have a heavy stake + In fresh mountain air-- + I will promise now to take + All that you can spare. + + When you're setting up your claim + In the Mines of Glee, + Don't forget to use my name-- + You can count on me. + + Nothing better can be won, + Freer from alloy, + Than a bouncing claim in "Con- + Solidated Joy." + + You can have your Copper Stocks + Gold and tin and coal-- + What I'd have within my box + Has to do with Soul. + +_John Kendrick Bangs._ + +From "Songs of Cheer." + + + + +BRAVE LIFE + + +To be absolutely without physical fear may not be the highest courage; +to shrink and quake, and yet stand at one's post, may be braver still. +So of success. It lies less in the attainment of some external end than +in holding yourself to your purposes and ideals; for out of high loyalty +and effort comes that intangible thing called character, which is no +mere symbol of success, but success itself. + + + I do not know what I shall find on out beyond the final fight; + I do not know what I shall meet beyond the last barrage of night; + Nor do I care--but this I know--if I but serve within the fold + And play the game--I'll be prepared for all the endless years may hold. + + Life is a training camp at best for what may wait beyond the years; + A training camp of toiling days and nights that lean to dreams and tears; + But each may come upon the goal, and build his soul above all Fate + By holding an unbroken faith and taking Courage for a mate. + + Is not the fight itself enough that man must look to some behest? + Wherein does Failure miss Success if all engaged but do their best? + Where does the Victor's cry come in for wreath of fame or laureled brow + If one he vanquished fought as well as weaker muscle would allow? + + If my opponent in the fray should prove to be a stronger foe-- + Not of his making--but because the Destinies ordained it so; + If he should win--and I should lose--although I did my utmost part, + Is my reward the less than his if he should strive with equal heart? + + Brave Life, I hold, is something more than driving upward to the peak; + Than smashing madly through the strong, and crashing onward through the + weak; + I hold the man who makes his fight against the raw game's crushing odds + Is braver than his brothers are who hold the favor of the gods. + + On by the sky line, faint and vague, in that Far Country all must know, + No laurel crown of fame may wait beyond the sunset's glow; + But life has given me the chance to train and serve within the fold, + To meet the test--and be prepared for all the endless years may hold. + + +_Grantland Rice._ + +From "The Sportlight." + + + + +A SONG OF TO-MORROW + + +A night's sleep and a new day--these are excellent things to look +forward to when one is weary or in trouble. + + + Li'l bit er trouble, + Honey, fer terday; + Yander come Termorrer-- + Shine it all away! + + Rainy Sky is sayin', + "Dis'll never do! + Fetch dem rainbow ribbons, + En I'll dress in blue!" + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +From "The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +THE GLAD SONG + + +Gladness begins with the first person, with you. But it may spread far, +like the ripples when you toss a stone in the water. + + + Sing a song, sing a song, + Ring the glad-bells all along; + Smile at him who frowns at you, + He will smile and then they're two. + + Laugh a bit, laugh a bit, + Folks will soon be catching it, + Can't resist a happy face; + World will be a merry place. + + Laugh a Bit and Sing a Song, + Where they are there's nothing wrong; + Joy will dance the whole world through, + But it must begin with you. + + +_Joseph Morris._ + + + + +PAINTING THE LILY + + +Many people are not content to let well enough alone, but spoil what +they have by striving for an unnecessary and foolish improvement. If +they have a rich title, they try to ornament it still further; if they +have refined gold, they try to gild it; if they have a lily, they try to +paint it into still purer color. + + + Therefore, to be possessed with double pomp, + To guard a title that was rich before, + To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, + To throw a perfume on the violet, + To smooth the ice, or add another hue + Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light + To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, + Is wasteful and ridiculous excess. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +A PRETTY GOOD WORLD + + +The world has its faults, but few of us would give it up till we have +to. + + + Pretty good world if you take it all round-- + Pretty good world, good people! + Better be on than under the ground-- + Pretty good world, good people! + Better be here where the skies are as blue + As the eyes of your sweetheart a-smilin' at you-- + Better than lyin' 'neath daisies and dew-- + Pretty good world, good people! + + Pretty good world with its hopes and its fears-- + Pretty good world, good people! + Sun twinkles bright through the rain of its tears-- + Pretty good world, good people! + Better be here, in the pathway you know-- + Where the thorn's in the garden where sweet roses grow, + Than to rest where you feel not the fall o' the snow-- + Pretty good world, good people! + + Pretty good world! Let us sing it that way-- + Pretty good world, good people! + Make up your mind that you're in it to stay-- + At least for a season, good people! + Pretty good world, with its dark and its bright-- + Pretty good world, with its love and its light; + Sing it that way till you whisper, "Good-night!"-- + Pretty good world, good people! + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +From "The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +ODE TO DUTY + + +In the first stanza the poet hails duty as coming from God. It is a +light to guide us and a rod to check. To obey it does not lead to +victory; to obey it _is_ victory--is to live by a high, noble law. In +the second stanza he admits that some people do right without driving +themselves to it--do it by instinct and "the genial sense of youth." In +stanza 3 he looks forward to a time when all people will be thus +blessed, but he thinks that as yet it is unsafe for most of us to lose +touch completely with stern, commanding duty. In stanzas 4 and 5 he +states that he himself has been too impatient of control, has wearied +himself by changing from one desire to another, and now wishes to +regulate his life by some great abiding principle. In stanza 6 he +declares that duty, though stern, is benignant; the flowers bloom in +obedience to it, and the stars keep their places. In the final stanza he +dedicates his life to its service. + + + Stern Daughter of the Voice of God! + O Duty! if that name thou love + Who art a light to guide, a rod + To check the erring, and reprove; + Thou who art victory and law + When empty terrors overawe; + From vain temptations dost set free, + And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity! + + There are who ask not if thine eye + Be on them; who, in love and truth + Where no misgiving is, rely + Upon the genial sense of youth: + Glad hearts! without reproach or blot, + Who do thy work, and know it not: + Oh! if through confidence misplaced + They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power! around them cast. + + Serene will be our days and bright + And happy will our nature be + When love is an unerring light, + And joy its own security. + And they a blissful course may hold + Ev'n now, who, not unwisely bold, + Live in the spirit of this creed; + Yet seek thy firm support, according to their need. + + I, loving freedom, and untried, + No sport of every random gust, + Yet being to myself a guide, + Too blindly have reposed my trust: + And oft, when in my heart was heard + Thy timely mandate, I deferr'd + The task, in smoother walks to stray; + But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may. + + Through no disturbance of my soul + Or strong compunction in me wrought, + I supplicate for thy control, + But in the quietness of thought: + Me this uncharter'd freedom tires; + I feel the weight of chance-desires: + My hopes no more must change their name; + I long for a repose that ever is the same. + + Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear + The Godhead's most benignant grace, + Nor know we anything so fair + As is the smile upon thy face; + Flowers laugh before thee on their beds, + And fragrance in thy footing treads; + Thou dost preserve the Stars from wrong; + And the most ancient Heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong. + + To humbler functions, awful Power! + I call thee: I myself commend + Unto thy guidance from this hour; + Oh let my weakness have an end! + Give unto me, made lowly wise, + The spirit of self-sacrifice; + The confidence of reason give; + And in the light of truth thy Bondman let me live. + + +_William Wordsworth._ + + + + +THE SYNDICATED SMILE + + +A ready and sincere friendliness is the one thing we can show to every +human being, whether we know him or not. The world is full of perplexed +and lonely people whom even a smile or a kind look will help. Yet that +which is so easy to give we too often reserve for a few, and those +perhaps the least appreciative. + + + I knew a girl who had a beau + And his name wasn't Adams-- + No child of hers would ever call + The present writer "daddums." + I didn't love the girl, but still + I found her most beguiling; + And so did all the other chaps-- + She did it with her smiling. + "I'm not a one-man girl," she said-- + "Of smiles my beau first took his; + But some are left; I'll syndicate + And pass them round like cookies." + + That syndicated smile! + When trouble seemed the most in style, + It heartened us-- + That indicated, + Syndicated + Smile. + + It's not enough to please your boss + Or fawn round folks with bankrolls; + Be just as friendly to the guys + Whose homespun round their shank rolls. + The best investment in the world + Is goodwill, twenty carat; + It costs you nothing, brings returns; + So get yours out and air it. + A niggard of good nature cheats + Himself and wrongs his fellows. + You'd serve mankind? Then be less close + With friendly nods and helloes. + + The syndicated smile! + If you have kept it all the while, + You've vindicated + The indicated, + Syndicated + Smile. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +FAIRY SONG + + +The great beneficent forces of life are not exhausted when once used, +but are recurrent. The sun rises afresh each new day. Once a year the +springtime returns and "God renews His ancient rapture." So it is with +our joys. They do not stay by us constantly; they pass from us and are +gone; but we need not trouble ourselves--they are sure to come back. + + + Shed no tear! O shed no tear! + The flower will bloom another year. + Weep no more! O weep no more! + Young buds sleep in the root's white core. + Dry your eyes! O dry your eyes, + For I was taught in Paradise + To ease my breast of melodies-- + Shed no tear. + + Overhead! look overhead, + 'Mong the blossoms white and red-- + Look up, look up--I flutter now + On this flush pomegranate bough. + See me! 'tis this silvery bill + Ever cures the good man's ill. + Shed no tear! O shed no tear! + The flowers will bloom another year. + Adieu, adieu--I fly, adieu, + I vanish in the heaven's blue-- + Adieu, adieu! + + +_John Keats._ + + + + +PRAISE THE GENEROUS GODS FOR GIVING + + +Some of us find joy in toil, some in art, some in the open air and the +sunshine. All of us find it in simply being alive. Life is the gift no +creature in his right mind would part with. As Milton asks, + + "For who would lose, + Though full of pain, this intellectual being, + These thoughts that wander through eternity, + To perish rather, swallowed up and lost + In the wide womb of uncreated night, + Devoid of sense and motion?" + + + Praise the generous gods for giving + In a world of wrath and strife, + With a little time for living, + Unto all the joy of life. + + At whatever source we drink it, + Art or love or faith or wine, + In whatever terms we think it, + It is common and divine. + + Praise the high gods, for in giving + This to man, and this alone, + They have made his chance of living + Shine the equal of their own. + + +_William Ernest Henley._ + + + + +COWARDS + + +We might as well accept the inevitable as the inevitable. There is no +escaping death or taxes. + + + Cowards die many times before their deaths: + The valiant never taste of death but once. + Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, + It seems to me most strange that men should fear; + Seeing that death, a necessary end, + Will come, when it will come. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +THE WORD + + +The Cumaean sibyl offered Tarquin the Proud nine books for what seemed +an exorbitant sum. He refused. She burned three of the books, and placed +the same price on the six as on the original nine. Again he refused. She +burned three more books, and offered the remainder for the sum she first +named. This time Tarquin accepted. The books were found to contain +prophecies and invaluable directions regarding Roman policy, but alas, +they were no longer complete. So it is with joy. To take it now is to +get it in its entirety. To defer until some other occasion is to get +less of it--at the same cost. + + + Today, whatever may annoy, + The word for it is Joy, just simple joy: + The joy of life; + The joy of children and of wife; + The joy of bright blue skies; + The joy of rain; the glad surprise + Of twinkling stars that shine at night; + The joy of winged things upon their flight; + The joy of noonday, and the tried, + True joyousness of eventide; + The joy of labor and of mirth; + The joy of air, and sea, and earth-- + The countless joys that ever flow from Him + Whose vast beneficence doth dim + The lustrous light of day, + And lavish gifts divine upon our way. + Whatever there be of Sorrow + I'll put off till To-morrow, + And when To-morrow comes, why, then + 'Twill be To-day, and Joy again! + + +_John Kendrick Bangs._ + +From "The Atlantic Monthly." + + + + +ENVOI + + +Franklin K. Lane stipulated that when he died his body should be +cremated and the ashes scattered from El Capitan over the beautiful +Yosemite Valley. He thus symbolized what many of us feel--the unity of +our deeper and finer selves with the eternal life and loveliness of +nature. + + + Oh seek me not within a tomb; + Thou shalt not find me in the clay! + I pierce a little wall of gloom + To mingle with the Day! + + I brothered with the things that pass, + Poor giddy Joy and puckered Grief; + I go to brother with the Grass + And with the sunning Leaf. + + Not Death can sheathe me in a shroud; + A joy-sword whetted keen with pain, + I join the armies of the Cloud + The Lightning and the Rain. + + Oh subtle in the sap athrill, + Athletic in the glad uplift, + A portion of the Cosmic Will, + I pierce the planet-drift. + + My God and I shall interknit + As rain and Ocean, breath and Air; + And oh, the luring thought of it + Is prayer! + + +_John G. Neihardt_ + +From "The Quest" (collected lyrics). + + + + +JAW + + +We all like a firm, straightforward chin provided it is not ruled by a +wagging, gossiping tongue. + + + This fellow's jaw is built so frail + That you could break it like a weed; + That fellow's chin retreats until + You'd think it in a wild stampede. + Defects like these but show how soon + The purpose droops, the spirits flag-- + We like a jaw that's made of steel, + Just so it's not inclined to wag. + + The lower jaw should be as strong + And changeless as a granite cliff; + Its very look should be a _thus_ + And not a _maybe, somehow, if;_ + Should mark a soul so resolute + It will not fear or cease or lag-- + We need a rugged mandible, + Provided we don't let it wag. + + Yes, with endurance, let it too + A tender modesty possess; + And to its grim strength let it add + The gracious power of gentleness. + Above all, let its might of deeds + Induce no loud or vulgar brag-- + We like to see a good, firm jaw, + But do not wish to hear it wag. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +THE CONQUEROR + + +Age is wise; it attempts nothing impossible. Youth is wiser; it believes +nothing impossible. Age conserves more; youth accomplishes more. Between +the two is an irreconcilable difference. + + "Crabbéd age and youth + Cannot live together," + +as Shakespeare says. And the sympathy of the world is with youth. It is +better so; for though many cherished things would be saved from +sacrifice if rash immaturity were more often checked, progress would be +stayed if life were dominated by sterile and repressive age. + + + Room for me, graybeards, room, make room! + Menace me not with your eyes of gloom; + Jostle me not from the place I seek, + For my arms are strong and your own are weak, + And if my plea to you be denied + I'll thrust your wearying forms aside. + Pity you? Yes, but I cannot stay; + I am the spirit of Youth; make way! + + Room for me, timid ones, room, make room! + Little I care for your fret and fume-- + I laugh at sorrow and jeer defeat; + To doubt and doubters I give the lie, + And fear is stilled as I swagger by, + And life's a fight and I seek the fray; + I am the spirit of Youth; make way! + + Room for me, mighty ones, room, make room! + I fear no power and dread no doom; + And you who curse me and you who bless + Alike must bow to my dauntlessness. + I topple the king from his golden throne, + I smash old idols of brass and stone, + I am not hampered by yesterday. + Room for the spirit of Youth; make way! + + Room for me, all of you, make me room! + Where the rifles clash and the cannon boom, + Where glory beckons or love or fame + I plunge me heedlessly in the game. + The old, the wary, the wise, the great, + They cannot stay me, for I am Fate, + The brave young master of all good play, + I am the spirit of Youth; make way! + + +_Berton Braley._ + +From "Things As They Are." + + + +[Illustration: BERTON BRALEY] + + + + +IS IT RAINING, LITTLE FLOWER? + + +"Sweet are the uses of adversity." They bring us benefits not otherwise +to be had. To mope because of them is foolish. Showers alternate with +sunshine, sorrows with pleasure, pain and weariness with comfort and +rest; but accept the one as necessary to the other, and you will enjoy +both. + + + Is it raining, little flower? + Be glad of rain. + Too much sun would wither thee, + 'Twill shine again. + The sky is very black, 'tis true, + But just behind it shines + The blue. + + Art thou weary, tender heart? + Be glad of pain; + In sorrow the sweetest things will grow + As flowers in the rain. + God watches and thou wilt have sun + When clouds their perfect work + Have done. + + +_Anonymous_. + + + + +GRADATIM + + +In the old fable the tortoise won the race from the hare, not by a +single burst of speed, but by plodding on steadily, tirelessly. In the +Civil War it was found that Lee's army could not be overwhelmed in a +single battle, but one Federal general perceived that it could be worn +down by time and the pressure of numbers. "I propose," said Grant, "to +fight it out on this line if it takes all summer." It took more than a +summer; it took nearly a year--but he did it. In the moral realm +likewise, "All things excellent are as difficult as they are rare." +Character is not attained over-night. The only way to develop moral +muscles is to exercise them patiently and long. + + + Heaven is not reached at a single bound; + But we build the ladder by which we rise + From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, + And we mount to its summit, round by round. + + I count this thing to be grandly true: + That a noble deed is a step towards God,-- + Lifting the soul from the common clod + To a purer air and a broader view. + + We rise by the things that are under feet; + By what we have mastered of good and gain; + By the pride deposed and the passion slain, + And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet. + + We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we trust, + When the morning calls us to life and light, + But our hearts grow weary, and, ere the night, + Our lives are trailing the sordid dust. + + We hope, we resolve, we aspire, we pray, + And we think that we mount the air on wings + Beyond the recall of sensual things, + While our feet still cling to the heavy clay. + + Wings for the angels, but feet for men! + We may borrow the wings to find the way-- + We may hope, and resolve, and aspire, and pray; + But our feet must rise, or we fall again. + + Only in dreams is a ladder thrown + From the weary earth to the sapphire walls; + But the dreams depart, and the vision falls, + And the sleeper wakes on his pillow of stone. + + Heaven is not reached at a single bound; + But we build the ladder by which we rise + From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, + And we mount to its summit, round by round. + + +_J.G. Holland._ + +From "Complete Poetical Writings." + + + + +RULES FOR THE ROAD + + +Ardor of sinew and spirit--what else do we need to make our journey +prosperous and happy? + + + Stand straight: + Step firmly, throw your weight: + The heaven is high above your head, + The good gray road is faithful to your tread. + + Be strong: + Sing to your heart a battle song: + Though hidden foemen lie in wait, + Something is in you that can smile at Fate. + + Press through: + Nothing can harm if you are true. + And when the night comes, rest: + The earth is friendly as a mother's breast. + + +_Edwin Markham._ + +From "The Gates of Paradise, and Other Poems." + + + + +LIFE + + +"What is life?" we ask. "Just one darned thing after another," the cynic +replies. Yes, a multiplicity of forces and interests, and each of them, +even the disagreeable, may be of real help to us. It's good for a dog, +says a shrewd philosopher, to be pestered with fleas; it keeps him from +thinking too much about being a dog. + + + What's life? A story or a song; + A race on any track; + A gay adventure, short or long, + A puzzling nut to crack; + A grinding task; a pleasant stroll; + A climb; a slide down hill; + A constant striving for a goal; + A cake; a bitter pill; + A pit where fortune flouts or stings; + A playground full of fun;-- + With many any of these things; + With others all in one. + What's life? To love the things we see; + The hills that touch the skies; + The smiling sea; the laughing lea; + The light in woman's eyes; + To work and love the work we do; + To play a game that's square; + To grin a bit when feeling blue; + With friends our joys to share; + To smile, though games be lost or won; + To earn our daily bread;-- + And when at last the day is done + To tumble into bed. + + +_Griffith Alexander,_ + +From "The Philadelphia Evening Public Ledger." + + + + +HOE YOUR ROW + + +We must not dream of harvests and neglect the toil that produces them. + + + De fiel's 'll soon be hummin' + Roun' de country high en low; + De harves' is a-comin': + Hoe yo' row! + Hoe yo' row! + + No time now fer de sleeper; + It's "Git up now, en go!" + It's de sower makes de reaper; + Hoe yo' row! + Hoe yo' row! + + It's sweet de birds is singin' + De songs you lovin' so; + But de harves' bells is ringin'; + Hoe yo' row! + Hoe yo' row! + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +From "The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +BORROWING TROUBLE + + +It is bad enough to cry over spilt milk. But many of us do worse; we cry +over milk that we think is going to be spilt. In line 1 sic=such; 2, +a'=all; 3, nae=no; 4, enow=enough; 5, hae=have; sturt=fret, trouble. + + + But human bodies are sic fools, + For a' their colleges an' schools, + That when nae real ills perplex them, + They mak enow themsels to vex them; + An' ay the less they hae to sturt them, + In like proportion less will hurt them. + + +_Robert Burns_ + + + + +UNDISMAYED + + +A convict explained to a visitor why he had been sent to the +penitentiary. "They can't put you in here for that!" the visitor +exclaimed. "They did," replied the convict. So smiling seems a futile +thing. Apparently it cannot get us anywhere--but it does. + + + He came up smilin'--used to say + He made his fortune that-a-way; + He had hard luck a-plenty, too, + But settled down an' fought her through; + An' every time he got a jolt + He jist took on a tighter holt, + Slipped back some when he tried to climb + But came up smilin' every time. + + He came up smilin'--used to git + His share o' knocks, but he had grit, + An' if they hurt he didn't set + Around th' grocery store an' fret. + He jist grabbed Fortune by th' hair + An' hung on till he got his share. + He had th' grit in him to stay + An' come up smilin' every day. + + He jist gripped hard an' all alone + Like a set bull-pup with a bone, + An' if he got shook loose, why then + He got up an' grabbed holt again. + He didn't have no time, he'd say, + To bother about yesterday, + An' when there was a prize to win + He came up smilin' an' pitched in. + + He came up smilin'--good fer him! + He had th' grit an' pluck an' vim, + So he's on Easy Street, an' durned + If I don't think his luck is earned! + No matter if he lost sometimes, + He's got th' stuff in him that climbs, + An' when his chance was mighty slim, + He came up smilin'--good fer him! + + +_James W. Foley._ + +From "Tales of the Trail." + + + + +A HERO + + +If defeat strengthens and sweetens character, it is not defeat at all, +but victory. + + + He sang of joy; whate'er he knew of sadness + He kept for his own heart's peculiar share: + So well he sang, the world imagined gladness + To be sole tenant there. + + For dreams were his, and in the dawn's fair shining, + His spirit soared beyond the mounting lark; + But from his lips no accent of repining + Fell when the days grew dark; + + And though contending long dread Fate to master, + He failed at last her enmity to cheat, + He turned with such a smile to face disaster + That he sublimed defeat. + + +_Florence Earle Coates._ + +From "Poems." + + + + +WILL + + +"I can resist anything but temptation," says a character in one of Oscar +Wilde's plays. Too many of us have exactly this strength of will. We +perhaps do not fall into gross crime, but because of our flabby +resolution our lives become purposeless, negative, negligible. No one +would miss us in particular if we were out of the way. + + + I + + O well for him whose will is strong! + He suffers, but he will not suffer long; + He suffers, but he cannot suffer wrong. + For him nor moves the loud world's random mock; + Nor all Calamity's hugest waves confound, + Who seems a promontory of rock, + That, compass'd round with turbulent sound, + In middle ocean meets the surging shock, + Tempest-buffeted, citadel-crown'd. + + + II + + But ill for him who, bettering not with time, + Corrupts the strength of heaven-descended Will, + And ever weaker grows thro' acted crime, + Or seeming-genial venial fault, + Recurring and suggesting still! + He seems as one whose footsteps halt, + Toiling in immeasurable sand, + And o'er a weary sultry land, + Far beneath a blazing vault, + Sown in a wrinkle of the monstrous hill + The city sparkles like a grain of salt. + + +_Alfred Tennyson._ + + + + +[Illustration: EVERARD JACK APPLETON] + + + + +FABLE + + +To be impressed by a thing merely because it is big is a human failing. +Yet our standard of judgment would be truer if we considered, instead, +the success of that thing in performing its own particular task. And +quality is better than quantity. The lioness in the old fable was being +taunted because she bore only one offspring at a time, not a numerous +litter. "It is true," she admitted; "but that one is a lion." + + + The mountain and the squirrel + Had a quarrel, + And the former called the latter "Little Prig"; + Bun replied, + "You are doubtless very big; + But all sorts of things and weather + Must be taken in together, + To make up a year + And a sphere. + And I think it no disgrace + To occupy my place. + If I'm not so large as you, + You are not so small as I, + And not half so spry. + I'll not deny you make + A very pretty squirrel track; + Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; + If I cannot carry forests on my back, + Neither can you crack a nut." + + +_Ralph Waldo Emerson._ + + + + +DUTY + + + When Duty comes a-knocking at your gate, + Welcome him in, for if you bid him wait, + He will depart only to come once more + And bring seven other duties to your door. + + +_Edwin Markham._ + +From "The Gates of Paradise, and Other Poems." + + + + +PRAYER FOR PAIN + + +"The thief steals from himself. The swindler swindles himself," says +Emerson. Apparent gain may be actual loss; material escape may be +spiritual imprisonment. Any one may idle; but the men who are not +content unless they climb the unscalable mountains or cross the +uncharted seas or bear the burdens that others shrink from, are the ones +who keep the heritage of the spirit undiminished. + + + I do not pray for peace nor ease, + Nor truce from sorrow: + No suppliant on servile knees + Begs here against to-morrow! + + Lean flame against lean flame we flash, + O, Fates that meet me fair; + Blue steel against blue steel we clash-- + Lay on, and I shall dare! + + But Thou of deeps the awful Deep, + Thou Breather in the clay, + Grant this my only prayer--Oh keep + My soul from turning gray! + + For until now, whatever wrought + Against my sweet desires, + My days were smitten harps strung taut, + My nights were slumbrous lyres. + + And howsoe'er the hard blow rang + Upon my battered shield, + Some lark-like, soaring spirit sang + Above my battlefield. + + And through my soul of stormy night + The zigzag blue flame ran. + I asked no odds--I fought my fight-- + Events against a man. + + But now--at last--the gray mist chokes + And numbs me. _Leave me pain! + Oh let me feel the biting strokes + That I may fight again!_ + + +_John G. Neihardt._ + +From "The Quest" (collected lyrics). + + + + +STEADFAST + + +No one ever has a trouble so great that some other person has not a +greater. The thought of the heroism shown by those more grievously +afflicted than we, helps us to bear our own ills patiently. + + + If I can help another bear an ill + By bearing mine with somewhat of good grace-- + Can take Fate's thrusts with not too long a face + And help him through his trials, then I WILL! + For do not braver men than I decline + To bow to troubles graver, far, than mine? + + Pain twists this body? Yes, but it shall not + Distort my soul, by all the gods that be! + And when it's done its worst, Pain's victory + Shall be an empty one! Whate'er my lot, + My banner, ragged, but nailed to the mast, + Shall fly triumphant to the very last! + + Others so much worse off than I have fought; + Have smiled--have met defeat with unbent head + They shame me into following where they led. + Can I ignore the lesson they have taught? + Strike hands with me! Dark is the way we go, + But souls-courageous line it--that I know! + + +_Everard Jack Appleton._ + +From "The Quiet Courage." + + + + +IF + + + If I were fire I'd burn the world away. + If I were wind I'd turn my storms thereon, + If I were water I'd soon let it drown. + +_Cecco Angolieri._ + + + If I were fire I'd seek the frozen North + And warm it till it blossomed fairly forth + And in the sweetness of its smiling mien + Resembled some soft southern garden scene. + And when the winter came again I'd seek + The chilling homes of lowly ones and meek + And do my small but most efficient part + To bring a wealth of comfort to the heart. + + If I were wind I'd turn my breath upon + The calm-bound mariner until, anon, + The eager craft on which he sailed should find + The harbor blest towards which it hath inclined. + And in the city streets, when summer's days + Were withering the souls with scorching rays, + I'd seek the fevered brow and aching eyes + And take to them a touch of Paradise. + + If I were water it would be my whim + To seek out all earth's desert places grim, + And turn each arid acre to a fair + Lush home of flowers and oasis rare. + Resolved in dew, I'd nestle in the rose. + As summer rain I'd ease the harvest woes, + And where a tear to pain would be relief, + A tear I'd be to kill the sting of grief. + + If I were gold, I'd seek the poor man's purse. + I'd try to win my way into the verse + Of some grand singer of Man's Brotherhood, + And prove myself so pure, so fraught with good. + That all the world would bless me for the cup + Of happiness I'd brought for all to sup. + And when at last my work of joy was o'er + I'd be content to die, and be no more! + + +_John Kendrick Bangs._ + +From "Songs of Cheer." + + + + +THE GIFTS OF GOD + + +Why are we never entirely satisfied? Why are we never at absolute peace +or rest? Many are the answers that have been made to this question. The +answer here given by the poet is that so richly is man endowed with +qualities and attributes that if contentment were added to them, he +would be satisfied with what he has, and would not strive for that which +is higher still--the fulfilment of his spiritual cravings. + + + When God at first made Man, + Having a glass of blessings standing by; + Let us (said He) pour on him all we can: + Let the world's riches, which disperséd lie, + Contract into a span. + + So strength first made a way; + Then beauty flow'd, then wisdom, honor, pleasure + When almost all was out, God made a stay, + Perceiving that alone, of all His treasure, + Rest in the bottom lay. + + For if I should (said He) + Bestow this jewel also on My creature, + He would adore My gifts instead of Me, + And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature. + So both should losers be. + + Yet let him keep the rest, + But keep them with repining restlessness: + Let him be rich and weary, that at least, + If goodness lead him not, yet weariness + May toss him to My breast. + + +_George Herbert._ + + + + +A PHILOSOPHER + + +"The web of our life is of mingled yarn, good and ill together," says +Shakespeare. It behooves us therefore to find the good and to make the +best of the ill. Two men were falling from an aeroplane. "I'll bet you +five dollars," said one, "that I hit the ground first." + + + To take things as they be-- + Thet's my philosophy. + No use to holler, mope, or cuss-- + If they was changed they might be wuss. + + If rain is pourin' down, + An' lightnin' buzzin' roun', + I ain't a-fearin' we'll be hit, + But grin thet I ain't out in it. + + If I got deep in debt-- + It hasn't happened yet-- + And owed a man two dollars, Gee! + Why I'd be glad it wasn't three. + + If some one come along, + And tried to do me wrong, + Why I should sort of take a whim + To thank the Lord I wasn't him. + + I never seen a night + So dark there wasn't light + Somewheres about if I took care + To strike a match and find out where. + + +_John Kendrick Bangs._ + +From "Songs of Cheer." + + + + +THE LIFE WITHOUT PASSION + + +A person may feel deeply without shouting his emotion to the skies, or +be strong without seizing occasions to exhibit his strength. In truth we +distrust the power which makes too much a display of itself. Let it +exert itself only to the point of securing the ends that are really +necessary. Restraint, self-control are in truth more mighty than might +unshackled, just as a self-possessed opponent is more dangerous than a +frenzied one. Moreover, there is a moral side to the question. A good +quality, if abused or allowed free sway, becomes a force for evil and +does its owner more harm than if he had not possessed it in the first +place. + + + They that have power to hurt, and will do none, + That do not do the thing they most do show, + Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, + Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow,-- + + They rightly do inherit heaven's graces, + And husband nature's riches from expense; + They are the lords and owners of their faces, + Others, but stewards of their excellence. + + The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, + Though to itself it only live and die; + But if that flower with base infection meet, + The basest weed outbraves his dignity: + + For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; + Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE + + +"I'd rather be right than President," said Henry Clay. It is to men who +are animated by this spirit that the greatest satisfaction in life +comes. For true blessedness does not lie far off and above us. It is +close at hand. Booker T. Washington once told a story of a ship that had +exhausted its supply of fresh water and signaled its need to a passing +vessel. The reply was, "Send down your buckets where you are." Thinking +there was some misunderstanding, the captain repeated his signal, only +to be answered as before. This time he did as he was bidden and secured +an abundance of fresh water. His ship was opposite the mouth of a mighty +river which still kept its current unmingled with the waters of the +ocean. + + + How happy is he born and taught + That serveth not another's will; + Whose armor is his honest thought + And simple truth his utmost skill! + + Whose passions not his masters are, + Whose soul is still prepared for death, + Not tied unto the world with care + Of public fame or private breath; + + Who envies none that chance doth raise + Or vice; who never understood + How deepest wounds are given by praise + Nor rules of state, but rules of good; + + Who hath his life from rumors freed, + Whose conscience is his strong retreat; + Whose state can neither flatterers feed, + Nor ruin make accusers great; + + Who God doth late and early pray + More of his grace than gifts to lend; + And entertains the harmless day + With a well-chosen book or friend; + + --This man is freed from servile bands + Of hope to rise or fear to fall; + Lord of himself, though not of lands; + And having nothing, yet hath all. + + +_Sir Henry Wotton._ + + + + +ESSENTIALS + + +The things here named are essential to a happy and successful life. They +may not be the only essentials. + + + Roll up your sleeves, lad, and begin; + Disarm misfortune with a grin; + Let discontent not wag your chin-- + Let gratitude. + + Don't try to find things all askew; + Don't be afraid of what is new; + Nor banish as unsound, untrue, + A platitude. + + If folks don't act as you would choose + Remember life is varied; use + Your common sense; don't get the blues; + Show latitude. + + Sing though in quavering sharps and flats, + Love though the folk you love are cats, + Work though you're worn and weary--that's + The attitude. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +THE STONE REJECTED + + +The story here poetically retold of the great Florentine sculptor shows +how much a lofty spirit may make of unpromising material. + + + For years it had been trampled in the street + Of Florence by the drift of heedless feet-- + The stone that star-touched Michael Angelo + Turned to that marble loveliness we know. + + You mind the tale--how he was passing by + When the rude marble caught his Jovian eye, + That stone men had dishonored and had thrust + Out to the insult of the wayside dust. + He stooped to lift it from its mean estate, + And bore it on his shoulder to the gate, + Where all day long a hundred hammers rang. + And soon his chisel round the marble sang, + And suddenly the hidden angel shone: + It had been waiting prisoned in the stone. + + Thus came the cherub with the laughing face + That long has lighted up an altar-place. + + +_Edwin Markham._ + +From "The Gates of Paradise, and Other Poems." + + + + +GOOD DEEDS + + +The influence of good deeds usually extends far beyond the limits we can +see or trace; but as well not have the power to do them as not use it. + + + How far that little candle throws his beams! + So shines a good deed in a naughty world. + Heaven doth with us as we with torches do; + Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues + Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike + As if we had them not. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +YOU MAY COUNT THAT DAY + + +A class of little settlement girls besought Mrs. George Herbert Palmer, +one insufferable summer morning, to tell them how to be happy. "I'll +give you three rules," she said, "and you must keep them every day for a +week. First, commit something good to memory each day. Three or four +words will do, just a pretty bit of poem, or a Bible verse. Do you +understand?" A girl jumped up. "I know; you want us to learn something +we'd be glad to remember if we went blind." Mrs. Palmer was relieved; +these children understood. She gave the three rules--memorize something +good each day, see something beautiful each day, do something helpful +each day. When the children reported at the end of the week, not a +single day had any of them lost. But hard put to it to obey her? Indeed +they had been. One girl, kept for twenty-four hours within squalid +home-walls by a rain, had nevertheless seen two beautiful things--a +sparrow taking a bath in the gutter, and a gleam of sunlight on a baby's +hair. + + + If you sit down at set of sun + And count the acts that you have done, + And, counting, find + One self-denying deed, one word + That eased the heart of him who heard-- + One glance most kind, + That fell like sunshine where it went-- + Then you may count that day well spent. + + But if, through all the livelong day, + You've cheered no heart, by yea or nay-- + If, through it all + You've nothing done that you can trace + That brought the sunshine to one face-- + No act most small + That helped some soul and nothing cost-- + Then count that day as worse than lost. + + +_George Eliot_. + + + + +SADNESS AND MERRIMENT + +(ADAPTED FROM "THE MERCHANT OF VENICE") + + +In this passage Antonio states that he is overcome by a sadness he +cannot account for. Salarino tells him that the mental attitude is +everything; that mirth is as easy as gloom; that nature in her +freakishness makes some men laugh at trifles until their eyes become +mere slits, yet leaves others dour and unsmiling before jests that would +convulse even the venerable Nestor. Gratiano maintains that Antonio is +too absorbed in worldly affairs, and that he must not let his spirits +grow sluggish or irritable. + + + _ANT._ In sooth, I know not why I am so sad: + It wearies me; you say it wearies you; + But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, + What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, + I am to learn. + + _Salar_. Then let's say you are sad + Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy + For you to laugh and leap, and say you are merry, + Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus, + Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time: + Some that will evermore peep through their eyes + And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper, + And other of such vinegar aspect + That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, + Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. + + _Gra_. You look not well, Signior Antonio; + You have too much respect upon the world: + They lose it that do buy it with much care: + Believe me, you are marvelously changed. + + _Ant_. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano + A stage where every man must play a part, + And mine a sad one. + + _Gra_. Let me play the fool: + With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come, + And let my liver rather heat with wine + Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. + Why should a man whose blood is warm within + Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? + Sleep when he wakes, and creep into a jaundice + By being peevish? Fare ye well awhile: + I'll end my exhortation after dinner. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +APPRECIATION + + + Life's a bully good game with its kicks and cuffs-- + Some smile, some laugh, some bluff; + Some carry a load too heavy to bear + While some push on with never a care, + But the load will seldom heavy be + When I appreciate you and you appreciate me. + + He who lives by the side of the road + And helps to bear his brother's load + May seem to travel lone and long + While the world goes by with a merry song, + But the heart grows warm and sorrows flee + When I appreciate you and you appreciate me. + + When I appreciate you and you appreciate me, + The road seems short to victory; + It buoys one up and calls "Come on," + And days grow brighter with the dawn; + There is no doubt or mystery + When I appreciate you and you appreciate me. + + It's the greatest thought in heaven or earth-- + It helps us know our fellow's worth; + There'd be no wars or bitterness, + No fear, no hate, no grasping; yes, + It makes work play, and the careworn free + When I appreciate you and you appreciate me. + + +_William Judson Kibby,_ + + + + +KEEP SWEET + + +Even the direst catastrophes may be softened by our attitude to them. +Charles II said to those who had gathered about his deathbed: "You'll +pardon any little lapses, gentlemen. I've never done this thing before." + + + Don't be foolish and get sour when things don't just come your way-- + Don't you be a pampered baby and declare, "Now I won't play!" + Just go grinning on and bear it; + Have you heartache? Millions share it, + If you earn a crown, you'll wear it-- + Keep sweet. + + Don't go handing out your troubles to your busy fellow-men-- + If you whine around they'll try to keep from meeting you again; + Don't declare the world's "agin" you, + Don't let pessimism win you, + Prove there's lots of good stuff in you-- + Keep sweet. + + If your dearest hopes seem blighted and despair looms into view, + Set your jaw and whisper grimly, "Though they're false, yet I'll be true." + Never let your heart grow bitter; + With your lips to Hope's transmitter, + Hear Love's songbirds bravely twitter, + "Keep sweet." + + Bless your heart, this world's a good one, and will always help a man; + Hate, misanthropy, and malice have no place in Nature's plan. + Help your brother there who's sighing. + Keep his flag of courage flying; + Help him try--'twill keep you trying-- + Keep sweet. + + +_Strickland W. Gillilan._ + + + + +MORALITY + + +We can't always, even when accomplishing, have the ardor of +accomplishment; we can only hold to the purpose formed in more inspired +hours. After a work is finished, even though it be a good work which our +final judgment will approve, we are likely to be oppressed for a time by +the anxieties we have passed through; the comfort of effort has left us, +and we recall our dreams, our intentions, beside which our actual +achievement seems small. In such moments we should remember that just +after the delivery of the Gettysburg Address Lincoln believed it an +utter failure. Yet the address was a masterpiece of commemorative +oratory. + + + We cannot kindle when we will + The fire which in the heart resides; + The spirit bloweth and is still, + In mystery our soul abides. + But tasks in hours of insight will'd + Can be through hours of gloom fulfill'd + + With aching hands and bleeding feet + We dig and heap, lay stone on stone; + We bear the burden and the heat + Of the long day and wish 'twere done. + Not till the hours of light return, + All we have built do we discern. + + +_Matthew Arnold_ + + + + +A HYMN TO HAPPINESS + + +A man who owed Artemus Ward two hundred dollars fell into such hard +circumstances that Artemus offered to knock off half the debt. "I won't +let you outdo me in generosity," said the man; "I'll knock off the other +half." Similarly, when we resolve to live down our causes of gloom, fate +comes to our aid and removes most of them altogether. + + + Let us smile along together, + Be the weather + What it may. + Through the waste and wealth of hours, + Plucking flowers + By the way. + Fragrance from the meadows blowing, + Naught of heat or hatred knowing, + Kindness seeking, kindness sowing, + Not to-morrow, but to-day. + + Let us sing along, beguiling + Grief to smiling + In the song. + With the promises of heaven + Let us leaven + The day long, + Gilding all the duller seemings + With the roselight of our dreamings, + Splashing clouds with sunlight's gleamings, + Here and there and all along. + + Let us live along, the sorrow + Of to-morrow + Never heed. + In the pages of the present + What is pleasant + Only read. + Bells but pealing, never knelling, + Hearts with gladness ever swelling. + Tides of charity up welling + In our every dream and deed. + + Let us hope along together, + Be the weather + What it may, + Where the sunlight glad is shining, + Not repining + By the way. + Seek to add our meed and measure + To the old Earth's joy and treasure, + Quaff the crystal cup of pleasure, + Not to-morrow, but to-day. + + +_James W. Foley_. + +From "The Voices of Song." + + + + +OPPORTUNITY + + +Procrastination is not only the thief of time; it is also the grave of +opportunity. + + + In an old city by the storied shores + Where the bright summit of Olympus soars, + A cryptic statue mounted towards the light-- + Heel-winged, tip-toed, and poised for instant flight. + + "O statue, tell your name," a traveler cried, + And solemnly the marble lips replied: + "Men call me Opportunity: I lift + My winged feet from earth to show how swift + My flight, how short my stay-- + How Fate is ever waiting on the way." + + "But why that tossing ringlet on your brow?" + "That men may seize me any moment: _Now_, + NOW is my other name: to-day my date: + O traveler, to-morrow is too late!" + + +_Edwin Markham._ + +From "The Gates of Paradise, and Other Poems." + + + + +TO A YOUNG MAN + + +"Jones write a book! Impossible! I knew his father." This attitude +towards distinction of any sort, whether in authorship or in the field +of action, is characteristic of many of us. We think transcendent +ability is entirely above and apart from the things of ordinary life. +Yet genius itself has been defined as common sense in an uncommon +degree. The great men are human. Shakespeare remembered this when he +said, "I think the king is but a man as I am." We should take heart at +the thought that since the great are like us, we may develop ourselves +until we are like them. + + + The great were once as you. + They whom men magnify to-day + Once groped and blundered on life's way, + Were fearful of themselves, and thought + By magic was men's greatness wrought. + They feared to try what they could do; + Yet Fame hath crowned with her success + The selfsame gifts that you possess. + + The great were young as you, + Dreaming the very dreams you hold, + Longing yet fearing to be bold, + Doubting that they themselves possessed + The strength and skill for every test, + Uncertain of the truths they knew, + Not sure that they could stand to fate + With all the courage of the great. + + Then came a day when they + Their first bold venture made, + Scorning to cry for aid. + They dared to stand to fight alone, + Took up the gauntlet life had thrown, + Charged full-front to the fray, + Mastered their fear of self, and then + Learned that our great men are but men. + + Oh, Youth, go forth and do! + You, too, to fame may rise; + You can be strong and wise. + Stand up to life and play the man-- + You can if you'll but think you can; + The great were once as you. + You envy them their proud success? + 'Twas won with gifts that you possess. + + +_Edgar A. Guest._ + + + + +SLOGAN + + +Some men want ideal conditions with pay in advance before they will +work. But the world does not want such men, and has little place for +them. + + + Don't prate about what is your right, + But bare your fists and show your might; + Life is another man to fight + Catch as catch can. + + Don't talk of Life as scurvy Fate, + Who gave you favors just too late, + Or Luck who threw you smiles for bait + Before he ran. + + Don't whine and wish that you were dead, + But wrestle for your daily bread, + And afterward let it be said + "He was a man." + + +_Jane M'Lean._ + + + + +SMILES + + +Smiles bring out the latent energies within us, as water reveals the +bright colors in the stone it flows over. + + + Smile a little, smile a little, + As you go along, + Not alone when life is pleasant, + But when things go wrong. + Care delights to see you frowning, + Loves to hear you sigh; + Turn a smiling face upon her, + Quick the dame will fly. + + Smile a little, smile a little, + All along the road; + Every life must have its burden, + Every heart its load. + Why sit down in gloom and darkness, + With your grief to sup? + As you drink Fate's bitter tonic + Smile across the cup. + + Smile upon the troubled pilgrims + Whom you pass and meet; + Frowns are thorns, and smiles are blossoms + Oft for weary feet. + Do not make the way seem harder + By a sullen face, + Smile a little, smile a little, + Brighten up the place. + + Smile upon your undone labor; + Not for one who grieves + O'er his task, waits wealth or glory; + He who smiles achieves. + Though you meet with loss and sorrow + In the passing years, + Smile a little, smile a little, + Even through your tears. + + +_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._ + +From "Poems of Power." + + + +[Illustration: ELLA WHEELER WILCOX] + + + + +SIT DOWN, SAD SOUL + + +"A watched pot never boils." Though the pot be the pot of happiness, the +proverb still holds true. + + + Sit down, sad soul, and count + The moments flying: + Come,--tell the sweet amount + That's lost by sighing! + How many smiles--a score? + Then laugh, and count no more; + For day is dying. + + Lie down, sad soul, and sleep, + And no more measure + The flight of Time, nor weep + The loss of leisure; + But here, by this lone stream, + Lie down with us and dream + Of starry treasure. + + We dream: do thou the same: + We love--forever; + We laugh; yet few we shame, + The gentle, never. + Stay, then, till Sorrow dies; + _Then_--hope and happy skies + Are thine forever! + + +_Bryan Waller Procter._ + + + + +SONG OF ENDEAVOR + + +Don Quixote discovered that there are no eggs in last year's +bird's-nests. Many of us waste our time in regrets for the past, without +seeming to perceive that hope lies only in endeavor for the future. + + + 'Tis not by wishing that we gain the prize, + Nor yet by ruing, + But from our falling, learning how to rise, + And tireless doing. + + The idols broken, nor our tears and sighs, + May yet restore them. + Regret is only for fools; the wise + Look but before them. + + Nor ever yet Success was wooed with tears; + To notes of gladness + Alone the fickle goddess turns her ears, + She hears not sadness. + + The heart thrives not in the dull rain and mist + Of gloomy pining. + The sweetest flowers are the flowers sun-kissed, + Where glad light's shining. + + Look not behind thee; there is only dust + And vain regretting. + The lost tide ebbs; in the next flood thou must + Learn, by forgetting. + + For the lost chances be ye not distressed + To endless weeping; + Be not the thrush that o'er the empty nest + Is vigil keeping. + + But in new efforts our regrets to-day + To stillness whiling, + Let us in some pure purpose find the way + To future smiling. + + +_James W. Foley._ + +From "The Voices of Song." + + + + +KEEP A-GOIN'! + + +Some men fail and quit. Some succeed and quit. The wise refuse to quit, +whether they fail or succeed. + + + Ef you strike a thorn or rose, + Keep a-goin'! + Ef it hails, or ef it snows, + Keep a-goin! + 'Taint no use to sit an' whine, + When the fish ain't on yer line; + Bait yer hook an' keep a-tryin'-- + Keep a-goin'! + + When the weather kills yer crop, + Keep a-goin'! + When you tumble from the top, + Keep a-goin'! + S'pose you're out of every dime, + Bein' so ain't any _crime;_ + Tell the world you're feelin' _prime_-- + Keep a-goin'! + + When it looks like all is up, + Keep a-goin'! + Drain the sweetness from the cup, + Keep a-goin'! + See the wild birds on the wing, + Hear the bells that sweetly ring, + When you feel like sighin' _sing--_ + Keep a-goin'! + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +From "The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +WHEN EARTH'S LAST PICTURE IS PAINTED + + +What is it that a human being wants? Most of us have something that we +like to do more than anything else. We are not free to do it as we wish. +We are handicapped by the need to earn a living, by physical weariness, +by the carpings and scoffs of the envious, by the limited time we have +at our disposal. But underneath all this is _the spirit of work_--the +desire to take up our task for its own sake alone, to give our whole +selves to it, to carry it through, not in some partial way, but in +accordance with the fulness of our dream. We want to be free from +distractions and interruptions; if we are driven at all, we want it to +be by our own inner promptings, not by obligation or necessity. Of +course these favorable, these ideal conditions belong to heaven, not to +earth. Kipling here explains what they will mean to the artist, the +painter; but in doing so he expresses the longings of the true workman +of whatsoever sort--he sums up the true spirit of work. + + + When Earth's last picture is painted and the tubes are twisted and dried, + When the oldest colors have faded, and the youngest critic has died, + We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it--lie down for an aeon or two, + Till the Master of All Good Workmen shall set us to work anew. + + And those that were good will be happy: they shall sit in a golden chair; + They shall splash at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comets' hair. + They shall find real saints to draw from--Magdalene, Peter, and Paul; + They shall work for an age at a sitting and never be tired at all! + + And only the Master shall praise us, and only the Master shall blame; + And no one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame, + But each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star, + Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of Things as They are! + + +_Rudyard Kipling._ + +From "Rudyard Kipling's Verse, 1885-1918." + + + + +INDEX BY AUTHORS + + + +A + +ADAMS, ST. CLAIR. Born in Arkansas, 1883. University education; European + travel; has resided at one time or another in nearly all sections of + America. Miscellaneous literary and editorial work. _A Problem to Be + Solved; Essentials; Good Intentions; It Won't Stay Blowed; Jaw; Never + Trouble Trouble; Ownership; The Rectifying Years; The Syndicated + Smile; Tit for Tat; Wanted--a Man_. + +ALEXANDER, GRIFFITH. Born at Liverpool, Eng., Jan. 15, 1868. Educated + in public schools; came to the United States 1887; been connected with + newspapers in great variety of capacities; President of the American + Press Humorists. _Gray Days; Life; The Grumpy Guy_. + +ANONYMOUS. _De Sunflower Ain't de Daisy; Hope; I'm Glad; Is It Raining, + Little Flower?; Keep On Keepin' On; Playing the Game; To the Men Who + Lose_. + +APPLETON, EVERARD JACK. Born at Charleston, W. Va., Mar. 24, 1872. Very + little schooling, but had advantages of home literary influences and a + good library; at seventeen went into newspaper work in his home town; + later went to Cincinnati, and worked on the daily _Tribune_, then on + the _Commercial Gazette_; later connected with the Cincinnati + _Times-Star_. For five years he wrote daily column of verse and humor; + besides his newspaper work, he has written over one hundred and fifty + stories, hundreds of poems, many songs, and innumerable jokes, + jingles, cheer-up wall cards, and the like. Author of two books of + poetry, "The Quiet Courage" and "With the Colors." With such intense + work his health broke down, and for a number of years he has been a + chronic invalid, but his cheer and his faith are as bright as ever. + _Hold Fast; Meetin' Trouble; Steadfast; The Fighting Failure; The One; + The Woman Who Understands; Unafraid; What Dark Days Do_. + + +ARNOLD, MATTHEW. Born at Laleham, Middlesex, Eng., Dec. 24, 1822; died +at Liverpool, Apr. 15, 1888. Educated at Winchester, Rugby, and Oxford. +Became Lord Lansdowne's secretary 1847; became inspector of schools +1851; appointed Professor of Poetry at Oxford 1857; continental tours to +inspect foreign educational systems 1859 and 1865; assigned a pension of +£250 by Gladstone 1883; lecture trips to America 1883 and 1886; retired +as inspector of schools 1886. Among his works are "Empedocles on Etna, +and Other Poems," "Essays in Criticism" (first and second series), +"Culture and Anarchy," "Literature and Dogma," "Discourses in America," +and "On the Study of Celtic Literature." _Morality_; _Self-Dependence_. + + + +B + +BANGS, JOHN KENDRICK. Born at Yonkers, N.Y., May 27, 1862; died Jan. 21, + 1922. Received Ph.B. degree from Columbia 1883; associate editor of + _Life_ 1884-8; has since served in various editorial capacities on + _Harper's Magazine, Harper's Weekly_, and the _Metropolitan Magazine_. + Among his books are "The Idiot," "A House Boat on the Styx," "The + Bicyclers, and Other Farces," "Songs of Cheer," "Line o' Cheer for + Each Day o' the Year," "The Foothills of Parnassus," "A Quest for + Song," and "The Cheery Way." _A Philosopher_; _A Smiling Paradox_; + _If_; _The Kingdom of Man_; _The Richer Mines_; _The Word_; _To + Melancholy_. + +BARBAULD, ANNA LETITIA AIKIN. Born at Kibworth-Harcourt, Leicestershire, + Eng., June 20, 1743; died at Stoke-Newington, Mar. 9, 1825. Poet and + essayist. _Life and Death_. + +BENÉT, WILLIAM ROSE. Born at Fort Hamilton, New York Harbor, Feb. 2, 1886. + Graduated from Albany, N.Y., Academy 1904; Ph.B. from Sheffield + Scientific School of Yale University 1907. Reader for _Century + Magazine_ 1907-11; assistant editor of the same 1911-14. 2d Lieutenant + U.S. Air Service 1914-18. Assistant editor of the _Nation's Business_ + 1919. His books are "Merchants from Cathay," "The Falconer of God," + "The Great White Wall," and "The Burglar of the Zodiac." _His Ally_; + _Mistress Fate_. + +BENJAMIN, PARK. Born at Demerara, British Guiana, Aug. 14, 1809; died at + New York City, Sept. 12, 1864. Connected with various periodicals. + _Press On_. + +BINNS, HENRY BRYAN. _Ultimate Act_. + +BRADFORD, GAMALIEL. Born at Boston, Mass., Oct. 9, 1863; privately + tutored till 1882; entered Harvard College 1882 but was obliged to + leave almost immediately because of ill health. Contributor of essays + and poems to various magazines; has a remarkable insight into the + characters of historical figures, and in a few pages reveals their + inner souls. Among his books are "Types of American Character," "A + Pageant of Life," "The Private Tutor," "Between Two Masters," "Matthew + Porter," "Lee, the American," "Confederate Portraits," "Union + Portraits," "A Naturalist of Souls," and "Portraits of American + Women." _God; Heinelet; The Joy of Living_. + +BRALEY, BERTON. Born at Madison, Wis., Jan. 29, 1882. Graduated from the + University of Wisconsin 1905; reporter on the Butte, Mont., _Inter + Mountain_ 1905-6; later with the Butte _Evening News_ and the + Billings, Mont., _Gazette_; with the New York _Evening Mail_ 1909; + associate editor of _Puck_ 1910; free lance writer since 1910; special + correspondent in Northern Europe 1915-16; in France, England, and + Germany 1918-19. Among his books are "Sonnets of a Freshman," "Songs + of a Workaday World," "Things as They Are," "A Banjo at Armageddon," + "In Camp and Trench," and "Buddy Ballads." _Opportunity; Playing the + Game; Start Where You Stand; Success; The Conqueror_. + +BRANCH, ANNA HEMPSTEAD. Born at New London, Conn. Graduated at Adelphi + Academy, Brooklyn, 1893, from Smith College 1897, and from the + American Academy of Dramatic Art, New York, 1900. Among her books are + "The Heart of the Road," "The Shoes That Danced," "Rose of the Wind," + and "Nimrod, and Other Poems." _Gladness_. + +BROWNING, ELIZABETH BARRETT. Born at Coxhoe Hall, Durham, Eng., Mar. 6, + 1806; died at Florence, Italy, June 30, 1861. A semi-invalid all her + life. Married Robert Browning 1846, and resided in Italy for the + remainder of her life. Author of "Casa Guidi Windows," "Aurora Leigh," + and "Sonnets from the Portuguese." _Cares_. + +BROWNING, ROBERT. Born at Camberwell, Eng., May 7, 1812; died at Venice, + Italy, Dec. 12, 1889. Educated at home and at London University; well + trained in music. Travel in Russia 1833; considered diplomatic career; + trip to Italy 1838; married Elizabeth Barrett 1846, and during her + life time resided chiefly at Florence, Italy. After her death in 1861, + he lived in London and Venice. Among his works are "Pauline," + "Paracelsus," "Strafford," "Sordello," "A Blot in the 'Scutcheon," + "Colombe's Birthday," "Dramatis Personae," "A Soul's Tragedy," "Luna," + "Men and Women," "The Ring and the Book," "Fifine at the Fair," "The + Inn-Album," "Dramatic Idyls," and "Asolando." _Man, Bird, and God; + Pippa's Song; Prospice; Rabbi Ben Ezra_. + +BURNS, ROBERT. Born at Alloway, near Ayr, Scotland, Jan. 25, 1759; died + at Dumfries, Scotland, July 21, 1796. Received little education; + drudgery on a farm at Mt. Oliphant 1766-77; on a farm at Lochlea + 1777-84, during which time there was a period of loose living and bad + companionship; at the death of his father he and his brother Gilbert + rented Mossgiel farm near Mauchline, where many of his best poems were + written; winter of 1786-7 he visited Edinburgh, and was received into + the best society; winter of 1787-8 revisited Edinburgh but rather + coolly received by Edinburgh society; 1788 married Jean Armour, by + whom he had previously had several children. Took farm at Ellisland + 1788; became an excise officer 1789. Removed to Dumfries 1791; later + years characterized by depression and poverty. Some of his best-known + poems are "The Holy Fair," "The Cotter's Saturday Night," and "Tam + O'Shanter"; wrote many of the most popular songs in the English + language. _A Man's a Man for A' That; Borrowing Trouble; The Gift_. + +BYRON, LORD (George Gordon Byron). Born at London, Jan. 22, 1788; died + at Missolonghi, Greece, Apr. 19, 1824, and buried in parish church at + Hucknell, near Newstead. Born with a deformed foot; much petted as a + child; inherited title and estate at death of his granduncle, William, + fifth Lord Byron, 1798. Studied at Harrow and at Cambridge University, + receiving M.A. degree 1808. Traveled in Portugal, Spain, Greece, and + Turkey 1809-11. In 1815 married Anna Milbanke, who left him 1816. In + 1816 met Miss Clairmont at Geneva, who bore him an illegitimate + daughter, Allegra, 1817; in 1819 met Teresa, Countess Guiccioli, at + Venice, and remained with her during his stay in Italy. Joined the + Greek insurgents 1823, and died of a fever in their cause of freedom + from the Turks. Among his works are "Hours of Idleness," "English + Bards and Scotch Reviewers," "Childe Harold," "The Giaour," "The + Corsair," "The Prisoner of Chillon," "Cain," "Manfred," and "Don + Juan." _Serenity_. + + + +C + +CARLYLE, THOMAS. Born at Ecclefechan, Dumfriesshire, Scotland, Dec. 4, + 1795; died at Chelsea, London, Feb. 4, 1881. Educated at Annan Grammar + School and Edinburgh University; mathematical tutor at Annan 1814; + teacher at Kirkcaldy 1816; went to Edinburgh to study law 1819; tutor + in Buller family 1822-4; married Jane Welsh 1826; lived successively + at Comely Bank, Edinburgh, and Craigenputtoch 1828-34; moved to + Chelsea 1834; and remained there the rest of his life. Elected Lord + Rector of Edinburgh University 1865. Among his works are "Life of + Schiller," "Sartor Resartus," "The French Revolution," "Chartism," + "Heroes, Hero Worship, and the Heroic in History," "Life and Letters + of Oliver Cromwell," "Life of Sterling," "Latter-Day Pamphlets," and + "Frederick the Great." _To-Day_. + +CLOUGH, ARTHUR HUGH. Born at Liverpool, Eng., Jan. 1, 1819; died at + Florence, Italy, Nov. 13, 1861. Went to school at Rugby and Oxford; + accepted headship of University Hall, London, 1849; came to America + 1852; health began to fail 1859. _Say Not the Struggle Nought + Availeth_. + +COATES, FLORENCE EARLE. Born at Philadelphia, Pa.; educated at private + schools and at the Convent of the Sacred Heart, France; studied also + at Brussels. President of the Browning Society of Philadelphia + 1895-1903 and 1907-8; a founder of the Contemporary Club, + Philadelphia, 1886; member of the Society of Mayflower Descendants, + and Colonial Dames of America. Among her books are "Mine and Thine," + "Lyrics of Life," and "The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems." _A Hero; + Courage; Per Aspera_. + +COOKE, EDMUND VANCE. Born at Port Dover, Canada, June 5, 1866. Educated + principally at common schools. He began to give lecture entertainments + 1893, and has been for years one of the most popular lyceum men before + the public. Frequent contributor of poems, stories, and articles to + the leading magazines. His poem "How Did You Die?" has attained a + nation-wide popularity. Among his books are "Just Then Something + Happened," "The Story Club," "Told to the Little Tot," "Chronicles of + the Little Tot," "I Rule the House," "Impertinent Poems," "Little, + Songs for Two," "Rimes to be Read," "The Uncommon Commoner," and "A + Patch of Pansies." _How Did You Die?; Laugh a Little Bit_. + +CROSBY, ERNEST HOWARD. Born at New York City, Nov. 4, 1856; died there + Jan. 3, 1907. Graduated from University of New York 1876, and from + Columbia Law School 1878; lawyer in New York 1878-89; judge of + international court at Alexandria, Egypt, 1889-94; returned to New + York 1894, and interested himself in social reform. Among his books + are "Plain Talk in Psalm and Parable," "Captain Jenks, Hero," "Swords + and Plowshares," "Tolstoi and His Message," and "Labor and Neighbor." + _Life and Death_. + + + +D + +DEKKER, THOMAS. Born at London, about 1570; died about 1641. Little is + known of his life; imprisoned several times; had literary quarrels + with Ben Jonson. Lived in the great period of the English drama (the + age of Shakespeare); wrote many of his plays in collaboration with + other writers of the period. Among his best-known plays are "The + Shoe-makers' Holiday" and "Old Fortunatus." _The Happy Heart_. + +DRAKE, JOSEPH RODMAN. Born at New York City, Aug. 7, 1795; died there + Sept. 21, 1820. Author of "The Culprit Fay" and "The American Flag." + _The Man Who Frets at Worldly Strife_. + + + +E + +ELIOT, GEORGE (Mary Ann Evans Lewes Cross). Born at Arbury Farm, + Warwickshire, Eng., Nov. 22, 1819; died at Chelsea, London, Dec. 22, + 1880. Educated at Nuneaton and Coventry; assistant editor of the + _Westminster Review_ 1851-3. Lived with George Henry Lewes from 1854 + until his death in 1878; married John Walter Cross in 1880. Among her + books (mostly novels) are "Adam Bede," "The Mill on the Floss," "Silas + Marner," "Romola," "Felix Holt," "The Spanish Gypsy," "Middlemarch," + "Daniel Deronda," and "Impressions of Theophrastus Such." _You May + Count That Day_. + +EMERSON, RALPH WALDO. Born at Boston, Mass., May 25, 1803; died at + Concord, Mass., Apr. 27, 1882. Graduated at Harvard College 1821, + working his way; taught school; began to study for the ministry 1823; + licensed to preach 1826; trip to the South for his health 1827-8; + Unitarian minister in Boston 1829-32; European travel 1832-3; settled + at Concord 1834; lectured extensively for over thirty years. + Contributed to the _Dial_ 1840-4; visited Europe 1847-8 and 1872-3. + Lectured at Harvard 1868-70. Some of his works are "Nature," "The + American Scholar," "Essays" (first and second series), "Representative + Men," "English Traits," "The Conduct of Life," and "Society and + Solitude." _Duty; Fable_. + + + +F + +FOLEY, JAMES WILLIAM. Born at St. Louis, Mo., Feb. 4, 1874. Educated at + the University of South Dakota. Member of Masonic Order and Past Grand + Master of Masons. Had early ranch experience; knew Theodore Roosevelt + during his ranching days. Began newspaper work on the Bismarck, N. + Dak., _Tribune_ 1892. During the Great War he served seventeen months + in army camps as an entertainer and inspirational lecturer, traveling + fifty thousand miles and addressing a quarter of a million men. For + fifteen years he has been lecturing and writing. His work includes + books of verse, humorous sketches, and plays. At present associate + editor of the Pasadena, Cal., _Evening Post._ Among his books are + "Boys and Girls," "Tales of the Trail," "Friendly Rhymes," "Voices of + Song," "Letters of William Green," and "Songs of Schooldays." _A Hymn + to Happiness; A Toast to Merriment; Days of Cheer; Friends of Mine; + One of These Days; Song of Endeavor; Undismayed_. + +FOSS, SAM WALTER. Born at Candia, N.H., June 19, 1858; died in 1911. + Graduated from Brown University 1882; editor 1883-93; general writer + 1893-8; librarian at Somerville, Mass., from 1898; lecturer and reader + of his own poems. Among his books are "Back Country Poems," "Whiffs + from Wild Meadows," "Dreams in Homespun," "Songs of War and Peace," + and "Songs of the Average Man." _The Firm of Grin and Barrett_, 118; + _The House by the Side of the Road_, 2. + +FOWLER, ELLEN THORNEYCROFT (The Honorable Mrs. Alfred Felkin). Elder + daughter of 1st Viscount Wolverhampton; married to Alfred Laurence + Felkin 1903. Among her books are "Verses Grave and Gay," "Verses Wise + and Otherwise," "Cupid's Garden," "Concerning Isabel Carnaby," "A + Double Thread," "The Farringdons," "Love's Argument," "Place and + Power," "Miss Fallowfield's Fortune," "The Wisdom of Folly," "Her + Ladyship's Conscience," and "Ten Degrees Backward." _The Wisdom of + Folly_, 61. + + + +G + +GARRISON, THEODOSIA. Born at Newark, N.J., 1874. Educated at private + schools at Newark. Married Joseph Garrison of Newark 1898; married + Frederick J. Faulks of Newark 1911. Among her books are "The Joy of + Life, and Other Poems," "Earth Cry, and Other Poems," and "The + Dreamers." _A Prayer_, 156; _One Fight More_, 145. + +GATES, ELLEN M. HUNTINGTON. Born at Torrington, Conn., 1834; died at + New York City, Oct. 12, 1920. Schooling at Hamilton, N.Y. Among her + books are "Treasures of Kurium," "The Dark," "To the Unborn Peoples," + and "The Marble House." _The Bars of Fate_, 158; _Your Mission_, 120. + +GILLILAN, STRICKLAND W. Born at Jackson, Ohio, Oct. 9, 1869. Attended + Ohio University to junior year; began newspaper work on the Jackson, + Ohio, _Herald_ 1887; and has since been on the staffs of many + newspapers and magazines in various capacities. Writer of humorous + verse, and popular lyceum lecturer. Among his books are "Including + Finnigan," "Including You and Me," and "A Sample Case of Humor." _Keep + Sweet_, 220. + +GILMAN, CHARLOTTE PERKINS. Born at Hartford, Conn., July 3, 1860. + Excellent home instruction; school attendance scant; real education + reading and thinking, mainly in natural science, history, and + sociology. Writer and lecturer on humanitarian topics, especially + along lines of educational and legal advancement. _The Forerunner_, a + monthly magazine, entirely written by her, published for seven years + from 1910. Among her publications are "In This Our World," "Women and + Economics," "Concerning Children," "The Home," "Human Work," "The + Yellow Wallpaper," "The Man-made World," "Moving the Mountain," "What + Diantha Did," and "The Crux." _Resolve; The Lion Path_. + +GLAENZER, RICHARD BUTLER. Born at Paris, France, Dec. 15, 1876. Educated + at the Hill School and Yale. Interior decorator, poet, and essayist. + At present scenario writer at Hollywood, California. Author of "Beggar + and King" and "Literary Snapshots." _Man or Manikin_. + +GOETHE, JOHANN WOLFGANG VON. Born at Frankfort-on-the-Main, Germany, + Aug. 28, 1749; died at Weimar, Mar. 22, 1832. Famous poet, dramatist, + and prose writer. Among his well-known works are "The Sorrows of Young + Werther," "Wilhelm Meister," "Hermann and Dorothea," and "Faust." + _Lose the Day Loitering_. + +GRAY, THOMAS. Born at London, Dec. 26, 1716; died at Cambridge, July 30, + 1771. Educated at Eton and Cambridge; went with Horace Walpole on trip + to Continent 1739-41; became professor of modern history at Cambridge + 1768, but did not teach. A man singularly retiring and shy throughout + his life. Among his well-known poems are "Ode on a Distant Prospect of + Eton College," "Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard," "The Progress + of Poetry," "The Bard," "The Fatal Sisters," and "The Descent of + Odin." _Opening Paradise_. + +GUEST, EDGAR ALBERT. Born at Birmingham, Eng., Aug. 20, 1881; brought to + the United States 1891; educated in grammar and high schools of + Detroit, Mich. Connected with the Detroit _Free Press_ since 1895; + syndicates a daily poem in several hundred newspapers. His books are + "A Heap o' Livin'," "Just Folks," "Over Here," "Path to Home," and + "When Day is Done." _Can't; How Do You Tackle Your Work?; It Couldn't + Be Done; See It Through; There Will Always Be Something to Do; The + Things That Haven't Been Done Before; The World Is Against Me; To a + Young Man_. + + + +H + +HENLEY, WILLIAM ERNEST. Born at Gloucester, Eng., Aug. 23, 1849; died + July 11, 1903. Educated at the Crypt Grammar School at Gloucester. + Afflicted with physical infirmity, and in hospital at Edinburgh + 1874--an experience which gave the material for his "Hospital + Sketches." Went to London 1877; edited _London_ (a magazine of art) + 1882-6; the _Scots Observer_ (which became the _National Observer_) + 1888-93; and the _New Review_ 1893-8. Besides three plays which he + wrote in collaboration with Robert Louis Stevenson, he is the author + of "Views and Reviews," "Hospital Sketches," "London Voluntaries" and + "Hawthorn and Lavenden" _Invictus_, 5; _Praise the Generous Gods for + Giving_, 194; _Thick Is the Darkness_, 151. + +HERBERT, GEORGE. Born at Montgomery Castle, Wales, Apr. 3, 1593; died at + Bemerton, near Salisbury, Eng., Feb., 1633. Graduated from Cambridge + 1613; took M.A. degree 1616. He was in high favor at court; appointed + by the King as rector to Bemerton Church in 1630, and there wrote the + religious poems for which he is remembered. _The Gifts of God_, 211. + +HOLLAND, JOSIAH GILBERT. Born at Belchertown, Mass., July 24, 1819; died + at New York City, Oct. 21, 1881. Editor of the _Springfield + Republican_ 1849-66; editor-in-chief of _Scribner's Monthly_ (which + later became the _Century Magazine_). Among his poems are "Kathrina" + and "Bitter-Sweet." _Gradatim_, 200. + +HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL. Born at Cambridge, Mass., Aug. 29, 1809; died + there Oct. 7, 1894. Physician; professor of anatomy and physiology in + the medical school of Harvard University 1847-82. Some of his + best-known poems are "Bill and Joe," "The Deacon's Masterpiece," and + "The Chambered Nautilus." Of his three novels "Elsie Venner" is the + best known. His "Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table," "Professor at the + Breakfast-Table," "Poet at the Breakfast-Table," and "Over the + Tea-Cups" all appeared originally in the _Atlantic Monthly_. _The + Chambered Nautilus_, 30. + +HUNT, JAMES HENRY LEIGH. Born at Southgate, Eng., Oct. 19, 1784; died + at Putney, Eng., Aug. 28, 1859. Imprisoned for radical political + views; writer of popular poems and essays, _Abou Ben Adhem_, 133. + + + +I + +INGALLS, JOHN JAMES. Born at Middleton, Mass., Dec. 29, 1833; died at + Las Vegas, N. Mex., Aug. 16, 1900. Educated at Williams College; + admitted to the bar 1857; moved to Kansas; member of the state senate + 1861; U.S. senator from Kansas 1873-91. _Opportunity_, 54. + + + +J + +JONSON, BEN. Born at Westminster, Eng., about 1573; died Aug. 6, 1637. + Went to school at St. Martin's-in-the-Fields and Westminster. + Shakespeare played one of the roles in his comedy "Every Man in His + Humour" 1598. He went to France as the tutor of the son of Sir Walter + Raleigh 1613; was in the favor of the court, from which he received a + pension. Attacked with palsy 1626, and later with dropsy, and confined + to his bed most of his later years. Well-known plays besides the one + cited above are "Epicoene," "The Alchemist," "Volpone," "Bartholomew + Fair," and "Cataline"; author of the lyric "Drink to Me Only With + Thine Eyes," and a volume of criticism "Timber." _The Noble Nature_, + 177. + + + +K + +KEATS, JOHN. Born at London, Oct. 29, 1795; died at Rome, Feb. 23, 1821. + Went to Enfield School; apprenticed to a druggist 1811-15; student in + London hospitals 1815-17; passed examination at Apothecaries Hall + 1816, but never practised. Walking trip to Scotland 1818; his health + rapidly failed, and he sailed to Naples in Sept. 1820, and then went + to Rome, where, until his death, he was attended by his friend Severn. + Among his well-known poems are "On First Looking into Chapman's + Homer," "Endymion," "The Eve of St. Agnes," "Isabella," "La Belle Dame + Sans Merci," "Ode to Psyche," "Ode to a Grecian Urn," "Ode to a + Nightingale," "Ode on Melancholy," "Lamia," "Ode to Autumn," and + "Hyperion." _Fairy Song_, 193. + +KIBBY, WILLIAM JUDSON. Born at Knoxville, Tenn., Mar. 12, 1876. Educated + in Knoxville Public Schools; graduate of the Sheldon School. Character + analyst and industrial psychologist; newspaper and magazine + contributor. President of the Lion's Club of New York; thirty-second + degree Mason. _Appreciation_, 219; _Helpin' Out_, 96. + +KING, BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, JR. Born at St. Joseph, Mich., Mar. 17, 1857; + died at Bowling Green, Ky., Apr. 7, 1894. At an early age showed a + remarkable talent in music; a public entertainer on the piano and + reciter of his own verse. His poems collected in "Ben King's Verse." + _If I Should Die_, 13; _The Pessimist_, 166. + +KIPLING, RUDYARD. Born at Bombay, India, Dec. 30, 1865. Educated in + England at United Service College; returned to India 1880; assistant + editor of _Civil and Military Gazette_ 1882-89; returned to England + 1889; resided in the United States for several years; has traveled in + Japan and Australasia. Received the Noble Prize for Literature 1907; + honorary degrees from McGill University, Durham, Oxford, and + Cambridge. Among his books are "Departmental Ditties," "Plain Tales + from the Hills," "Under the Deodars," "Phantom' Rickshaw," "Wee Willie + Winkle," "Life's Handicap," "The Light That Failed," "Barrack-Room + Ballads," "The Jungle Book," "The Second Jungle Book," "The Seven + Seas," "Captains Courageous," "The Day's Work," "Kim," "Just So + Stories," "Puck of Pook's Hill," "Actions and Reactions," "Rewards and + Fairies," "Fringes of the Fleet," and "Sea Warfare." _If_, 4; _When + Earth's Last Picture Is Painted_, 230. + +KISER, SAMUEL ELLSWORTH. Born at Shippenville, Pa. Educated in Pennsylvania + and Ohio. Began newspaper work in Cleveland, and from 1900 until 1914 + was editorial and special writer for the Chicago _Record-Herald_. + Noted for his humorous sketches, which have been widely syndicated. + His poem "Unsubdued" is, like Henley's "Invictus," a splendid + portrayal of undaunted courage in the face of defeat. Among his books + are "Georgie," "Charles the Chauffeur," "Love Sonnets of an Office + Boy," "Ballads of the Busy Days," "Sonnets of a Chorus Girl," "The + Whole Glad Year," and "The Land of Little Care." _A Little Prayer; + December 31; Faith; It May Be; My Creed; The Fighter; Unsubdued_. + +KNOX, J. MASON. _Co-operation_. + + + +L + +LONGFELLOW, HENRY WADSWORTH. Born at Portland, Me., Feb. 27, 1807; died + at Cambridge, Mass., Mar. 24, 1882. Graduated from Bowdoin College + 1825; traveled in Europe 1826-9; professor of modern languages at + Bowdoin 1829-34; again visited Europe 1835-6; professor of modern + languages and belles lettres at Harvard College 1836-54; European + travel 1868-9. Some of his best-known poems are "A Psalm of Life," + "The Village Blacksmith," "The Wreck of the Hesperus," "The Skeleton + in Armor," "The Bridge," "Evangeline," "The Building of the Ship," + "Hiawatha," "The Courtship of Miles Standish," and "Tales of a Wayside + Inn"; author of two novels, "Hyperion" and "Kavanagh"; translator of + Dante's "Divine Comedy." _A Psalm of Life; The Arrow and the Song_. + +LOVELACE, RICHARD. Born in Kent, 1618; died at London, 1658. Educated + at Oxford; imprisoned for support of the royalist cause 1642 and 1648; + released from prison after the execution of King Charles I, but his + estate had been ruined and he died in poverty. _To Althea from + Prison_. + + + +M + +MACKAY, CHARLES. Born at Perth, Eng., Mar. 27, 1814; died at London, + Dec. 24, 1889. Editor of the Glasgow _Argus_ 1844-47 and of the + _Illustrated London News_ 1852-59; New York correspondent of the + London _Times_ during the Civil War. _Clear the Way; Cleon and I_. + +M'LEAN, JANE. _Slogan_. + +MALLOCH, DOUGLAS. Born at Muskegon, Mich., May 5, 1877. Common school + education; reporter on the Muskegon _Daily Chronicle_ 1886-1903; + member of the editorial staff of the _American Lumberman_ from 1903; + associate editor from 1910; contributes verse relating to the forest + and lumber camps to various magazines; is called "The Poet of the + Woods," He is author of "In Forest Land," "Resawed Fables," "The + Woods," "The Enchanted Garden," and "Tote-Road and Trail." _Be the + Best of Whatever You Are; To-Day_. + +MALONE, WALTER. Born in De Soto Co., Miss., Feb. 10, 1866; died May 18, + 1915. Received the degree of Ph.B. from the University of Mississippi + 1887; practised law at Memphis, Tenn., 1887-97; literary work in New + York City 1897-1900; then resumed law practice at Memphis; became + Judge of second Circuit Court, Shelby Co., Tenn., 1905, and served + till his death. Annual exercises held in the Capleville schools in his + honor. An excellent edition of his poems, issued under the direction + of his sister, Mrs. Ella Malone Watson of Capleville, Tenn., is + published by the John P. Morton Co., of Louisville, Ky. _Opportunity_. + +MARKHAM, EDWIN. Born at Oregon City, Ore., Apr. 23, 1852. Went to + California 1857; worked at farming and black-smithing, and herded + cattle and sheep, during boyhood. Educated at San José Normal School + and two Western colleges; special student in ancient and modern + literature and Christian sociology; principal and superintendent of + schools in California until 1899. Mr. Markham is one of the most + distinguished of American poets and lecturers. His poem "The Man with + the Hoe" in his first volume of poems is world-famous, and has been + heralded by many as "the battle-cry of the next thousand years." He + has sounded in his work the note of universal brotherhood and + humanitarian interest, and has been credited as opening up a new + school of American poetry appealing to the social conscience, where + Whitman appealed only to the social consciousness. His books are "The + Man with the Hoe, and Other Poems," "Lincoln, and Other Poems," "The + Shoes of Happiness, and Other Poems," and "Gates of Paradise, and + Other Poems." His book "California the Wonderful" is a volume of + beautiful prose giving a historical, social, and literary study of the + state. _A Creed; Duty; Opportunity; Preparedness; Rules for the Road; + The Stone Rejected; Two at a Fireside; Victory in Defeat_. + +MASON, WALT. Born at Columbus, Ontario, May 4, 1862. Self-educated. Came + to the United States 1880; was connected with the Atchison _Globe_ + 1885-7; later with Lincoln, Neb., _State Journal_; editorial + paragrapher of the _Evening News_, Washington, 1893; with the Emporia, + Kan., _Gazette_ since 1907. Writes a daily prose poem which is + syndicated in over two hundred newspapers, and is believed to have the + largest audience of any living writer. Among his books are "Rhymes of + the Range," "Uncle Walt," "Walt Mason's Business Prose Poems," + "Rippling Rhymes," "Horse Sense," "Terse Verse," and "Walt Mason, His + Book." _Lions and Ants; The Has-Beens; The Welcome Man_. + +MILLER, JOAQUIN. Born in Indiana, Nov. 11, 1841; died Feb. 17, 1913. He + went to Oregon 1854; was afterwards a miner in California; studied + law; was a judge in Grant County, Oregon, 1866-70. For a while he was + a journalist in Washington, D.C.; returned to California 1887. He is + the author of various books of verse, and is called "The Poet of the + Sierras." _Columbus; To Those Who Fail_. + +MILTON, JOHN. Born at London, Dec. 9, 1608; died there Nov. 8, 1674. + Attended St. Paul's School; at Cambridge 1625-32. At Horton, writing + and studying, 1632-38. In 1638 went to Italy; met Galileo in Florence. + During the great Civil War wrote pamphlets against the Royalists; was + made Latin Secretary to the new Commonwealth 1649; became totally + blind 1652. Until his third marriage in 1663, his domestic life had + been rendered unhappy by the undutifulness of his three daughters. + Among his works are "L'Allegro," "Il Penseroso," "Comus," "Lycidas," + "Paradise Lost," "Paradise Regained," and "Samson Agonistes." _The + Inner Light_. + +MORGAN, ANGELA. Born at Washington, D.C. Educated under private tutors + and at public schools; took special work at Columbia University. Began + early as a newspaper writer, first with the Chicago _American_; then + with the Chicago _Journal_, and New York and Boston papers. She is a + member of the Poetry Society of America, The MacDowell Club, Three + Arts, and the League of American Pen Women. She is one of the most + eloquent readers before the public to-day; was a delegate to the + Congress of Women at The Hague 1915, at which she read her poem + "Battle Cry of the Mothers." Her four books of poems are "The Hour Has + Struck," "Utterance, and Other Poems," "Forward, March!" and "Hail, + Man!" and a fifth is soon to be published. Her book of fiction "The + Imprisoned Splendor" contains well-known stories ("What Shall We Do + with Mother?" "The Craving," "Such Is the Love of Woman," and "The + Making of a Man"), some of which appeared previously in magazines. A + novel is shortly to be published. _A Song of Life; A Song of + Thanksgiving; Grief; Know Thyself; Stand Forth!; When Nature Wants a + Man; Work_. + +MORRIS, JOSEPH. Born in Ohio 1889. College and university education; + professor of English and lecturer on literary subjects; newspaper and + magazine contributor; connected with publishing houses since 1917 in + various editorial capacities. _A Lesson from History; Borrowed + Feathers; Can You Sing a Song?; If You Can't Go Over or Under, Go + Round; Philosophy for Croakers; Swellitis; The Glad Song; The + Unmusical Soloist; Two Raindrops_. + + + +N + +NEIHARDT, JOHN GNEISENAU. Born near Sharpsburg, Ill., Jan. 8, 1881. + Completed the scientific course at the Nebraska Normal College 1897; + received the degree of Litt.D. from the University of Nebraska 1917. + Declared Poet Laureate of Nebraska by a joint resolution of the + Legislature, Apr. 1921, in recognition of the significance of the + American epic cycle upon which he has been working for eight years. + Winner of the prize of five hundred dollars offered by the Poetry + Society of America for the best volume of poetry ("The Song of Three + Friends") published by an American in 1919. Has been literary critic + of the Minneapolis _Journal_ since 1912. Among his books are "The + Divine Enchantment," "The Lonesome Trail," "A Bundle of Myrrh," + "Man-Song," "The River and I," "The Dawn-Builder," "The Stranger at + the Gate," "Death of Agrippina," "Life's Lure," "The Song of Hugh + Glass," "The Quest," "The Song of Three Friends," "The Splendid + Wayfaring," and "Two Mothers." _Battle Cry_, 148; _Envoi_, 196; _Let + Me Live Out My Years_, 127; _Prayer for Pain_, 208. + +NETTE, JEAN. _Challenge_, 119. + +NEWBOLT, SIR HENRY. Born at Bilston, Eng., June 6, 1862. Educated at + Oxford; practised law until 1899; editor of _Monthly Review_ 1900-04; + Vice-President of the Royal Society of Literature; created a Knight + 1915. Among his books are "Taken from the Enemy," "Mordred," "Admirals + All," "The Island Race," "The Old Country," "The Book of Cupid," + "Poems Old and New," and "The New June." _Play the Game_, 162. + +NOYES, ALFRED. Born in Staffordshire, Eng., Sept. 16, 1880. Educated at + Oxford; received honorary degree of Litt.D. from Yale 1913; gave the + Lowell Lectures in America on "The Sea in English Poetry" 1913; + elected to Professorship of Modern Poetry at Princeton 1914; + temporarily attached to the foreign office 1916. Among his books are + "Collected Poems" (three volumes), "The Elfin Artist," "The New + Morning," "The Lord of Misrule," "A Belgian Christmas Eve," "The + Wine-Press," "Tales of the Mermaid Tavern," "Sherwood," "The Enchanted + Island," "Drake," "Beyond the Desert," "Walking Shadows," "Open + Boats," "The Golden Hynde." "The Flower of Old Japan," and "A Salute + from the Fleet." _The New Duckling_, 34. + + + +O + +O SHEEL, SHEAMUS. Born at New York City, Sept. 19, 1886. Educated in the + New York City grammar and high schools; took special work in English + and history at Columbia 1906-8. Member of the Poetry Society of + America and the Gaelic Society. Interested in political and civic + reforms. Among his books are "Blossomy Bough" and "The Light Feet of + Goats." _He Whom a Dream Hath Possessed_. + + + +P + +PROCTER, BRYAN WALLER ("Barry Cornwall"). Born at Leeds, Eng., Nov. 21, + 1787; died Oct. 5, 1874. Educated at Harrow; schoolmate of Byron and + Sir Robert Peel; called to the bar 1831; commissioner of lunacy + 1832-61. Among his books are "Dramatic Scenes, and Other Poems," "A + Sicilian Story," "Flood of Thessaly," and "English Songs." _Sit Down, + Sad Soul_. + + + +R + +RICE, GRANTLAND. Born at Nashville, Tenn., Nov. 1, 1880. Attended + Vanderbilt University. Worked as sporting writer on the Atlanta + _Journal_; came to New York City in 1911. His sporting column, "The + Sportlight," is said to be more widely syndicated and more widely read + than any other writing on topics of sport in the United States. Irvin + S. Cobb says that it often reaches the height of pure literature, and + as a writer of homely, simple American verse Grantland Rice is held by + many to be the logical successor to James Whitcomb Riley. He is author + of "Songs of the Stalwart" and editor of the _American Golfer_. _Brave + Life_; "_Might Have Been_"; _On Being Ready_; _On Down the Road_; _The + Answer_; _The Call of the Unbeaten_; _The Game_; _The Trainers_. + +RILEY, JAMES WHITCOMB. Born at Greenfield, Ind., 1849; died at Indianapolis, + Ind., July 22, 1916. Public school education; received honorary degree + of M.A. from Yale 1902; Litt.D. from Wabash College 1903 and from the + University of Pennsylvania 1904, and LL.D. from Indiana University + 1907. Began contributing poems to Indiana papers 1873; known as the + "Hoosier Poet," and much of his verse in the middle Western and + Hoosier dialect. Among his books are "The Old Swimmin' Hole," + "Afterwhiles," "Old Fashioned Roses," "Pipes o' Pan at Zekesbury," + "Neighborly Poems," "Green Fields and Running Brooks," "Poems Here at + Home," "Child-Rhymes," "Love Lyrics," "Home Folks," "Farm-Rhymes," "An + Old Sweetheart of Mine," "Out to Old Aunt Mary's," "A Defective Santa + Claus," "Songs o' Cheer," "Boys of the Old Glee Club," "Raggedy Man," + "Little Orphan Annie," "Songs of Home," "When the Frost Is on the + Punkin," "All the Year Round," "Knee-Deep in June," "A Song of Long + Ago," and "Songs of Summer." His complete works are issued by the + Bobbs-Merrill Company in the "Biographical Edition of James Whitcomh + Riley" 1913. _Just Be Glad_, 14; _My Philosophy_, 57. + +RITTENHOUSE, JESSIE BELLE. Born at Mt. Morris, N.Y. Graduate of Genesee + Wesleyan Seminary, Lima, N.Y.; teacher of Latin and English in a + private school at Cairo, Ill., and at Ackley Institute for Girls, + Grand Haven, Mich., 1893-4; active newspaper work and reviewer until + 1900; contributor to New York _Times_ Review of Books and _The + Bookman_; lecturer on modern poetry in extension courses of Columbia + University. Her books are "The Little Book of Modern Verse," "The + Little Book of Modern American Verse," "Second Book of Modern Verse," + "The Younger American Poets," and "The Door of Dreams." _My Wage_, + 183. + + + +S + +SERVICE, ROBERT WILLIAM. Born at Preston, Eng., Jan. 10, 1874. Educated + at Hillhead Public School, Glasgow; served apprenticeship with the + Commercial Bank of Scotland, Glasgow; emigrated to Canada and settled + on Vancouver Island; for a while engaged in farming, and later + traveled up and down the Pacific coast, following many occupations; + finally joined the staff of the Canadian Bank of Commerce in Victoria, + B.C., 1905; was later transferred to White Horse, Yukon Territory, and + then to Dawson; he spent eight years in the Yukon, much of it in + travel. In Europe during the Great War; in Paris 1921. Among his books + are "The Spell of the Yukon," "Ballads of a Cheerchako," "Rhymes of a + Rolling Stone," "Rhymes of a Red Cross Man," and "Ballads of a + Bohemian." _The Quitter_, 8. + +SHAKESPEARE, WILLIAM. Born at Stratford on Avon, Apr. 23, 1564; died + there Apr. 23, 1616, and buried in Stratford church. Probably attended + Stratford Grammar School; married Anne Hathaway, who was eight years + his senior, Nov., 1582; a daughter, Susanna, born May 1, 1583; twins, + Hamnet and Judith, born 1585. About 1585 went to London, and became + connected with the theater as actor, reviser of old plays, etc. His + son Hammet died 1596; his father applied for a coat of arms 1596. + Bought New Place at Stratford 1597; coat of arms granted 1599; + shareholder in Globe theater 1599. His father died 1601; his daughter + Susanna married to John Hall, a physician at Stratford, 1607; his + mother died 1608. Retired from theatre and returned to Stratford about + 1611. His daughter Judith married to Thomas Quinney, a vintner, 1616; + his wife died 1623; last descendant, Lady Bernard, died 1670. Folio + edition of his plays 1623. Characterized by surpassing ability in both + comedy and tragedy, extraordinary insight into human character, and + supreme mastery of language. Besides his plays, which are too well + known to require listing, he wrote "Sonnets," "Venus and Adonis" and + "The Rape of Lucrece." _A Good Name_, 109; _Cowards_, 194; _Good + Deeds_, 216; _Having Done and Doing_, 52; _Opportunity_, 54; _Order + and the Bees_, 75; _Painting the Lily_, 188; _Polonius's Advice to + Laertes_, 49; _Sadness and Merriment_, 218; _Sleep and the Monarch_, + 142; _Stability_, 157; _The Belly and the Members_, 152; _The Life + Without Passion_, 213. + +SHELLEY, PERCY BYSSHE. Born at Field Place, Sussex, Eng., Aug. 4, 1792; + drowned off Vireggio, Italy, July 8, 1822. Educated at Eton 1804-10; + expelled from Oxford for publication of pamphlet "The Necessity of + Atheism" 1811. Married Harriet Westbrook 1811; left her 1814, and went + to Switzerland with Mary Godwin; returned to England 1815; received + £1000 a year from his grandfather's estate 1815. Harriet drowned + herself 1816, and he formally married Mary the next month. They went + to Italy 1818; he was drowned on a voyage to welcome Leigh Hunt to + Italy; his body burned on a funeral pyre in the presence of Byron, + Hunt, and Trelawney. Some of his well-known poems are "Queen Mab," + "Alastor," "The Revolt of Islam," "Prometheus Unbound," "Adonais," "To + a Skylark," and "Ode to the West Wind"; he also wrote a poetical + tragedy, "The Cenci." _Prometheus Unbound_, 184. + +SILL, EDWARD ROWLAND. Born at Windsor, Conn., 1841; died at Cleveland, + Ohio, Feb. 27, 1887. Graduated from Yale 1861; professor of English at + University of California 1874-82. _Faith_, 112; _Life_, 99; + _Opportunity_, 56. + +SOUTHWELL, ROBERT. Born about 1561; executed at Tyburn, Feb. 21, 1595. + Educated at Paris; received into the Society of Jesus 1578; returned + to England 1586; became chaplain to the Countess of Arundel 1589; + betrayed to the authorities 1592; imprisoned for three years and + finally executed. _Times Go by Turns_, 122. + +STANTON, FRANK LEBBY. Born at Charleston, S.C., Feb. 22, 1857. Common + school education; served apprenticeship as printer; identified with + the Atlanta press for years, especially with the Atlanta + _Constitution_ in which his poems have been a feature, and have won + for him a unique place among modern verse writers. Some of his books + are "Songs of the Soil," "Comes One With a Song," "Songs from Dixie + Land," "Up from Georgia," and "Little Folks Down South." _A Hopeful + Brother_, 67; _A Little Thankful Song_, 181; _A Poor Unfortunate_, + 137; _A Pretty Good World_, 189; _A Song of To-Morrow_, 187; _Here's + Hopin'_, 164; _Hoe Your Row_, 203; _Just Whistle_, 38; _Keep A-Goin'!_ + 229; _This World_, 133. + +STEVENSON, ROBERT LOUIS. Born at Edinburgh, Nov. 13, 1850; died at Apia, + Samoa, Dec. 4, 1894. Early education irregular because of poor + health; went to Italy with his parents 1863; at Edinburgh University + 1867-73, at first preparing for engineering but later taking up law; + admitted to the bar 1875 but never practised. Various trips to the + Continent between 1873-79; visited America 1879-80; resided in + Switzerland, France, and England 1882-7; came to America again 1887-8; + voyages in Pacific 1888-91; at Vailima, Samoa, 1891-94. A conspicuous + example of a man always in poor health yet courageous and optimistic + throughout his life. Among his books are "A Lodging for the Night," + "Travels with a Donkey," "Virginibus Puerisque," "New Arabian Nights," + "Treasure Island," "A Child's Garden of Verse," "The Strange Case of + Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," "Kidnapped," "The Master of Ballantrae," + "Father Damien," "Ebb Tide," and "Weir of Hermiston." _The Celestial + Surgeon_. + + + +T + +TEICHNER, MIRIAM. Born at Detroit, Mich., 1888. Educated in public + schools there; graduated from Central High School; took special + courses in English and economics at the University of Michigan. Member + of staff of Detroit _News_ after leaving school, writing a daily + column of verse and humor; came to New York City as special feature + writer of the New York _Globe_ 1915; in Germany for the Detroit _News_ + and Associated Newspapers writing of post-war social and economic + conditions 1921. _Awareness_; _Submission_; _The Struggle_; _Victory_. + +TENNYSON, ALFRED LORD. Born at Somersby, Lincolnshire, Eng., Aug. 6, 1809; + died at Aldworth House, near Haslemere, Surrey, Oct. 6, 1892. Student + at Cambridge 1828-31, but did not take a degree; trip to the Pyrenees + with Arthur Hallam 1832; granted a pension of £200 by Peel 1845; after + residing successively at Twickenham and Aldworth, he settled at + Farringford, the Isle of Wight, 1853. Became poet laureate 1850; + raised to the peerage 1884. Some of his well-known poems are "The Lady + of Shalott," "The Palace of Art," "The Lotus Eaters," "A Dream of Fair + Women," "Oenone," "Morte d'Arthur," "Dora," "Ulysses," "Locksley + Hall," "The Princess," "In Memoriam," "Maud," "Ode on the Death of the + Duke of Wellington," "Charge of the Light Brigade," "Idylls of the + King," "Enoch Arden," and the plays "Queen Mary" and "Becket." _Life, + not Death_; _Ring Out, Wild Bells_; _The Greatness of the Soul_; + _Ulysses_; _Will_. + + + +V + +VAN DYKE, HENRY. Born at Germantown, Pa., Nov. 10, 1852; graduated at + Polytechnical Institute of Brooklyn 1869; A.B. degree from Princeton + 1873; M.A. degree from there 1876; graduated from Princeton + Theological Seminary 1877; studied at University of Berlin 1877-9; has + received honorary degrees from Princeton, Harvard, Yale, Union, + Wesleyan, Pennsylvania, and Oxford. Pastor of United Congregational + Church, Newport, R.I., 1879-82, and of the Brick Presbyterian Church, + New York, 1883-1900; professor of English literature at Princeton from + 1900; U.S. minister to the Netherlands and Luxemburg 1913-17. Author + of "The Poetry of Tennyson," "Sermons to Young Men," "Little Rivers," + "The Other Wise Man," "The First Christmas Tree," "The Builders, and + Other Poems," "The Lost Word," "Fisherman's Luck," "The Toiling of + Felix, and Other Poems," "The Blue Flower," "Music, and Other Poems," + "Out-of-Doors in the Holy Land," "The Mansion," and "The Unknown + Quantity." _Four Things, 3; Work_, 65. + + + +W + +WHITTIER, JOHN GREENLEAF. Born at Haverhill, Mass., Dec. 17, 1807; died + at Hampton Falls, N.H., Sept. 7, 1892. Of Quaker ancestory; father a + poor farmer; as a boy he injured his health by hard work on the farm. + Taught school; attended Haverhill Academy for two terms 1827-8; edited + Haverhill _Gazette_ 1830; returned to the farm in broken health 1832. + Member of Massachusetts Legislature 1835-6. An ardent opponent of + slavery; edited the Pennsylvania _Freeman_ 1838-40; several times + attacked by mobs because of his views on slavery. Leading writer for + the Washington _National Era _1847-57; contributed to the _Atlantic + Monthly_ 1857. Some of his well-known poems are "Maud Muller," "The + Barefoot Boy," "Barbara Freitchie," "Snow-Bound," and "The Eternal + Goodness." _My Triumph_, 90. + +WIDDEMER, MARGARET. Born at Doylestown, Pa.; educated at home; graduated + at the Drexel Institute Library School 1909. Began writing in + childhood; her first published poem "The Factories" was widely quoted; + married Robert Haven Schauffler 1919. Among her books are "The + Rose-Garden Husband," "Winona of the Camp Fire," "Factories, with + Other Lyrics," "Why Not?" "The Wishing-Ring Man," "The Old Road to + Paradise," and "The Board Walk." _To Youth After Pain_, 103. + +WILCOX, ELLA WHEELER. Born at Johnston Centre, Wis., 1855; died at her + home in Connecticut, Oct. 31, 1919. Educated "Poems of Pleasure," + "Kingdom of Love," "Poems of Passion," "Poems of Progress," "Poems of + Sentiment," "New Thought Common Sense," "Picked Poems," "Gems from + Wilcox," "Faith," "Love," "Hope," "Cheer," and "The World and I." + _Life_, 139; _Smiles_, 226; _Solitude_, 16; _The Disappointed_, 126; + _Will_, 107; _Wishing_, 86; _Worth While_, 28. + +WORDSWORTH, WILLIAM. Born at Cockermouth, Cumberland, Eng., Apr. 7, 1770; + died at Rydal Mount, Apr. 23, 1850. Educated at Hawkshead grammar + school and Cambridge University, where he graduated 1791. Traveled on + Continent 1790; in France 1791-2, where he sympathized with the French + republicans. Received £900 legacy 1795, and settled with his sister + Dorothy at Racedown, Dorsetshire; to be near Coleridge he removed to + Alfoxden 1797; went to Continent 1798; returned to England 1799, and + settled at Grasmere in the lake district; married Mary Hutchison 1802; + settled at Allan Bank 1808; removed to Grasmere 1811. Appointed + distributer of stamps 1813, and settled at Rydal Mount; traveled in + Scotland 1814 and 1832; on the Continent 1820 and 1837. Given a + pension of £300 by Peel 1842; became poet laureate 1843. Some of his + well-known poems are "The Excursion," "Tintern Abbey," "Yarrow + Revisited," "The Prelude," "Intimations of Immortality," and "We Are + Seven." _Ode to Duty_, 190; _The Daffodils_, 180; _The Rainbow_, 117. + +WOTTON, SIR HENRY. Born at Bocton Malherbe, Kent, Eng., 1568; died at + Eton, 1639. Educated at Winchester and Oxford; on the Continent + 1588-95; became the secretary of the Earl of Essex 1595; English + ambassador to Venice, Germany, etc.; became provost of Eton College + 1624. _Character of a Happy Life_, 214. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of It Can Be Done, by Joseph Morris + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10763 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..760d012 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #10763 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10763) diff --git a/old/10763-8.txt b/old/10763-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..028df2e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10763-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12036 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of It Can Be Done, by Joseph Morris + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: It Can Be Done + Poems of Inspiration + +Author: Joseph Morris + +Release Date: January 21, 2004 [EBook #10763] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IT CAN BE DONE *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Anne Folland and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + +IT CAN BE DONE + +POEMS OF INSPIRATION + + +COLLECTED BY + +JOSEPH MORRIS and ST. CLAIR ADAMS + + + + +FOREWORD + + +This is a volume of inspirational poems. Its purpose is to bring men +courage and resolution, to cheer them, to fire them with new confidence +when they grow dispirited, to strengthen their faith that THINGS CAN BE +DONE. It is better for this purpose than the entire works of any one +poet, for it takes the cream of many and has greater diversity than any +one writer can show. + +It is made up chiefly of very recent poems--not such as were written for +anthologies of poetical "gems," but such as speak directly to the heart, +always in very simple language, often in the phrases of shop or office +or street. Included, however, with the poems of the day are a few of the +fine old pieces that have been of comfort to men through the ages. + +Besides the poems themselves, the volume contains helps to their +understanding and enjoyment. The pieces are introduced by short +comments; these serve the same purpose as the strain played by the +pianist before the singer begins to sing; they create a mood, give a +point of view, throw light on the meaning of what follows. Also the +lives of the authors are briefly summarized; this is in answer to our +natural interest in the writer of a poem we like, and in the case of +living poets it brings together facts hardly to be found anywhere else. + +Finally, the book is not one to be read and then cast aside. It is to be +kept as a constant companion and an unfailing recourse in weariness or +gloom. Human companions are not always in the mood to cheer us, and may +talk upon themes we dislike. But this book will converse or be silent, +it is never out of sorts or discouraged, and so far from being wed to +some single topic, it will speak to us at any time on any subject we +desire. + +To many authors and publishers acknowledgment is due for generous +permission to use copyright material. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +Abou Ben Adhem............................. _Leigh Hunt_ +Answer, The................................ _Grantland Rice_ +Appreciation............................... _William Judson Kibby_ +Arrow and the Song, The.................... _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ +Awareness.................................. _Miriam Teichner_ + +Bars of Fate, The.......................... _Ellen M.H. Gates_ +Battle Cry................................. _John G. Neihardt_ +Belly and the Members, The................. _William Shakespeare_ +Be the Best of Whatever You Are............ _Douglas Malloch_ +Borrowed Feathers.......................... _Joseph Morris_ +Borrowing Trouble.......................... _Robert Burns_ +Brave Life................................. _Grantland Rice_ + +Call of the Unbeaten, The.................. _Grantland Rice_ +Can't...................................... _Edgar A. Guest_ +Can You Sing a Song?....................... _Joseph Morris_ +Cares...................................... _Elizabeth Barrett Browning_ +Celestial Surgeon, The..................... _Robert Louis Stevenson_ +Challenge.................................. _Jean Nette_ +Chambered Nautilus, The.................... _Oliver Wendell Holmes_ +Character of a Happy Life.................. _Sir Henry Wotton_ +Clear the Way.............................. _Charles Mackay_ +Cleon and I................................ _Charles Mackay_ +Columbus................................... _Joaquin Miller_ +Conqueror, The............................. _Berton Braley_ +Co-operation............................... _J. Mason Knox_ +Courage.................................... _Florence Earle Coates +Cowards.................................... _William Shakespeare_ +Creed, A................................... _Edwin Markham_ + +Daffodils, The............................. _William Wordsworth_ +Days of Cheer.............................. _James W. Foley_ +December 31................................ _S.E. Kiser_ +De Sunflower Ain't de Daisy................ _Anonymous_ +Disappointed, The.......................... _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ +Duty....................................... _Ralph Waldo Emerson_ +Duty....................................... _Edwin Markham_ + +Envoi...................................... _John G. Neihardt_ +Essentials................................. _St. Clair Adams_ + +Fable...................................... _Ralph Waldo Emerson_ +Fairy Song................................. _John Keats_ +Faith...................................... _S.E. Kiser_ +Faith...................................... _Edward Rowland Sill_ +Fighter, The............................... _S.E. Kiser_ +Fighting Failure, The...................... _Everard Jack Appleton_ +Firm of Grin and Barrett, The.............. _Sam Walter Foss_ +Four Things................................ _Henry Van Dyke_ +Friends of Mine............................ _James W. Foley_ + +Game, The.................................. _Grantland Rice _ +Gifts of God, The.......................... _George Herbert_ +Gift, The.................................. _Robert Burns_ +Gladness................................... _Anna Hempstead Branch_ +Glad Song, The............................. _Joseph Morris_ +God........................................ _Gamaliel Bradford_ +Good Deeds................................. _William Shakespeare_ +Good Intentions............................ _St. Clair Adams_ +Good Name, A............................... _William Shakespeare_ +Gradatim................................... _G. Holland_ +Gray Days.................................. _Griffith Alexander_ +Greatness of the Soul, The................. _Alfred Tennyson_ +Grief...................................... _Angela Morgan_ +Grumpy Guy, The............................ _Griffith Alexander_ + +Happy Heart, The........................... _Thomas Dekker_ +Has-Beens, The............................. _Walt Mason_ +Having Done and Doing...................... _William Shakespeare_ +Heinelet................................... _Gamaliel Bradford _ +Helpin' Out................................ _William Judson Kibby_ +Here's Hopin'.............................. _Frank L. Stanton_ +Hero, A.................................... _Florence Earle Coates_ +He Whom a Dream Hath Possessed............. _Sheamus O Sheel_ +His Ally................................... _William Rose Benét_ +Hoe Your Row............................... _Frank L. Stanton_ +Hold Fast.................................. _Everard Jack Appleton_ +Hope....................................... _Anonymous_ +Hopeful Brother, A......................... _Frank L. Stanton_ +House by the Side of the Road, The......... _Sam Walter Foss_ +How Did You Die?........................... _Edmund Vance Cooke_ +How Do You Tackle Your Work?............... _Edgar A. Guest_ +Hymn to Happiness, A....................... _James W. Foley_ + +If......................................... _John Kendrick Bangs_ +If......................................... _Rudyard Kipling_ +If I Should Die............................ _Ben King_ +If You Can't Go Over or Under, Go Round.... _Joseph Morris_ +I'm Glad................................... _Anonymous_ +Inner Light, The........................... _John Milton_ +Invictus................................... _William Ernest Henley_ +Is It Raining, Little Flower?.............. _Anonymous_ +It Couldn't Be Done........................ _Edgar A. Guest_ +It May Be.................................. _S.E. Riser_ +It Won't Stay Blowed....................... _St. Clair Adams_ + +Jaw........................................ _St. Clair Adams_ +Joy of Living, The......................... _Gamaliel Bradford_ +Just Be Glad............................... _James Whitcomb Riley_ +Just Whistle............................... _Frank L. Stanton_ + +Keep A-Goin'!.............................. _Frank L. Stanton_ +Keep On Keepin' On......................... _Anonymous_ +Keep Sweet................................. _Strickland W. Gillilan_ +Kingdom of Man, The........................ _John Kendrick Bangs_ +Know Thyself............................... _Angela Morgan_ + +Laugh a Little Bit......................... _Edmund Vance Cooke_ +Lesson from History, A..................... _Joseph Morris_ +Let Me Live Out My Years................... _John G. Neihardt_ +Life....................................... _Griffith Alexander_ +Life....................................... _Edward Rowland Sill_ +Life....................................... _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ +Life and Death............................. _Anna Barbauld_ +Life and Death............................. _Ernest H. Crosby_ +Life, not Death............................ _Alfred Tennyson_ +Life Without Passion....................... _William Shakespeare_ +Lion Path, The............................. _Charlotte Perkins Gilman_ +Lions and Ants............................. _Walt Mason_ +Little Prayer, A........................... _S.E. Kiser_ +Little Thankful Song, A.................... _Frank L. Stanton_ +Lose the Day Loitering..................... _Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ + +Man, Bird, and God......................... _Robert Browning_ +Man or Manikin............................. _Richard Butler Glaenzer_ +Man's a Man for A' That, A................. _Robert Burns_ +Man Who Frets at Worldly Strife, The....... _Joseph Rodman Drake_ +Meetin' Trouble............................ _Everard Jack Appleton_ +"Might Have Been".......................... _Grantland Rice_ +Mistress Fate.............................. _William Rose Benét_ +Morality................................... _Matthew Arnold_ +My Creed................................... _S.E. Kiser_ +My Philosophy.............................. _James Whitcomb Riley_ +My Triumph................................. _John Greenleaf Whittier_ +My Wage.................................... _Jessie B. Rittenhouse_ + +Never Trouble Trouble...................... _St. Clair Adams_ +New Duckling, The.......................... _Alfred Noyes_ +Noble Nature, The.......................... _Ben Jonson_ + +Ode to Duty................................ _William Wordsworth_ +On Being Ready............................. _Grantland Rice_ +On Down the Road........................... _Grantland Rice_ +One Fight More............................. _Theodosia Garrison_ +One of These Days.......................... _James W. Foley_ +One, The................................... _Everard Jack Appleton_ +Opening Paradise........................... _Thomas Gray_ +Opportunity................................ _Berton Braley_ +Opportunity................................ _John James Ingalls_ +Opportunity................................ _Walter Malone_ +Opportunity................................ _Edwin Markham_ +Opportunity................................ _William Shakespeare_ +Opportunity................................ _Edward Rowland Sill_ +Order and the Bees......................... _William Shakespeare_ +Ownership.................................. _St. Clair Adams_ + +Painting the Lily.......................... _William Shakespeare_ +Per Aspera................................. _Florence Earle Coates_ +Pessimist, The............................. _Ben King_ +Philosopher, A............................. _John Kendrick Bangs_ +Philosophy for Croakers.................... _Joseph Morris_ +Pippa's Song............................... _Robert Browning_ +Playing the Game........................... _Anonymous_ +Playing the Game........................... _Berton Braley_ +Play the Game.............................. _Henry Newbolt_ +Polonius's Advice to Laertes............... _William Shakespeare_ +Poor Unfortunate, A........................ _Frank L. Stanton_ +Praise the Generous Gods for Giving........ _William Ernest Henley_ +Prayer, A.................................. _Theodosia Garrison_ +Prayer for Pain............................ _John G. Neihardt_ +Preparedness............................... _Edwin Markham_ +Press On................................... _Park Benjamin _ +Pretty Good World, A....................... _Frank L. Stanton_ +Problem to Be Solved, A.................... _St. Clair Adams_ +Prometheus Unbound......................... _Percy Bysshe Shelley_ +Prospice................................... _Robert Browning_ +Psalm of Life, A........................... _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ + +Quitter, The............................... _Robert W. Service_ + +Rabbi Ben Ezra............................. _Robert Browning_ +Rainbow, The............................... _William Wordsworth_ +Rectifying Years, The...................... _St. Clair Adams_ +Resolve.................................... _Charlotte Perkins Gilman_ +Richer Mines, The.......................... _John Kendrick Bangs_ +Ring Out, Wild Bells....................... _Alfred Tennyson_ +Rules for the Road......................... _Edwin Markham_ + +Sadness and Merriment...................... _William Shakespeare_ +Say Not the Struggle Nought Availeth....... _Arthur Hugh Clough_ +See It Through............................. _Edgar A. Guest_ +Self-Dependence............................ _Matthew Arnold_ +Serenity................................... _Lord Byron_ +Sit Down, Sad Soul......................... _Bryan Waller Procter_ +Sleep and the Monarch...................... _William Shakespeare_ +Slogan..................................... _Jane M'Lean_ +Smiles..................................... _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ +Smiling Paradox, A......................... _John Kendrick Bangs_ +Solitude................................... _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ +Song of Endeavor........................... _James W. Foley_ +Song of Life, A............................ _Angela Morgan_ +Song of Thanksgiving, A.................... _Angela Morgan_ +Song of To-morrow, A....................... _Frank L. Stanton_ +Stability.................................. _William Shakespeare_ +Stand Forth!............................... _Angela Morgan_ +Start Where You Stand...................... _Bert on Braley_ +Steadfast.................................. _Everard Jack Appleton_ +Stone Rejected, The........................ _Edwin Markham_ +Struggle, The.............................. _Miriam Teichner_ +Submission................................. _Miriam Teichner_ +Success.................................... _Berton Braley_ +Swellitis.................................. _Joseph Morris_ +Syndicated Smile, The...................... _St. Clair Adams_ + +There Will Always Be Something to Do....... _Edgar A. Guest_ +Thick Is the Darkness...................... _William Ernest Henley_ +Things That Haven't Been Done Before, The.. _Edgar A. Guest_ +This World................................. _Frank L. Stanton_ +Times Go by Turns.......................... _Robert Southwell_ +Tit for Tat................................ _St. Clair Adams_ +To Althea from Prison...................... _Richard Lovelace_ +Toast to Merriment, A...................... _James W. Foley_ +To a Young Man............................. _Edgar A. Guest_ +To-day..................................... _Thomas Carlyle_ +To-day..................................... _Douglas Malloch_ +To Melancholy.............................. _John Kendrick Bangs_ +To the Men Who Lose........................ _Anonymous_ +To Those Who Fail.......................... _Joaquin Miller_ +To Youth After Pain........................ _Margaret Widdemer_ +Trainers, The.............................. _Grantland Rice_ +Two at a Fireside.......................... _Edwin Markham_ +Two Raindrops.............................. _Joseph Morris_ + +Ultimate Act............................... _Henry Bryan Binns_ +Ulysses.................................... _Alfred Tennyson_ +Unafraid................................... _Everard Jack Appleton_ +Undismayed................................. _James W. Foley_ +Unmusical Soloist, The..................... _Joseph Morris_ +Unsubdued.................................. _S.E. Kiser_ + +Victory.................................... _Miriam Teichner_ +Victory in Defeat.......................... _Edwin Markham_ + +Wanted--a Man.............................. _St. Clair Adams_ +Welcome Man, The........................... _Walt Mason_ +What Dark Days Do.......................... _Everard Jack Appleton_ +When Earth's Last Picture Is Painted....... _Rudyard Kipling_ +When Nature Wants a Man.................... _Angela Morgan_ +Will....................................... _Alfred Tennyson_ +Will....................................... _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ +Wisdom of Folly, The....................... _Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler_ +Wishing.................................... _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ +Woman Who Understands, The................. _Everard Jack Appleton_ +Word, The.................................. _John Kendrick Bangs_ +Work....................................... _Angela Morgan_ +Work....................................... _Henry Van Dyke_ +World Is Against Me, The................... _Edgar A. Guest_ +Worth While................................ _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ + +You May Count That Day..................... _George Eliot_ +Your Mission............................... _Ellen M.H. Gates_ + + + + + +IT CAN BE DONE + + + + +BE THE BEST OF WHATEVER YOU ARE + + +We all dream of great deeds and high positions, away from the pettiness +and humdrum of ordinary life. Yet success is not occupying a lofty place +or doing conspicuous work; it is being the best that is in you. Rattling +around in too big a job is much worse than filling a small one to +overflowing. Dream, aspire by all means; but do not ruin the life you +must lead by dreaming pipe-dreams of the one you would like to lead. +Make the most of what you have and are. Perhaps your trivial, immediate +task is your one sure way of proving your mettle. Do the thing near at +hand, and great things will come to your hand to be done. + + + If you can't be a pine on the top of the hill + Be a scrub in the valley--but be + The best little scrub by the side of the rill; + Be a bush if you can't be a tree. + + If you can't be a bush be a bit of the grass, + And some highway some happier make; + If you can't be a muskie then just be a bass-- + But the liveliest bass in the lake! + + We can't all be captains, we've got to be crew, + There's something for all of us here. + There's big work to do and there's lesser to do, + And the task we must do is the near. + + If you can't be a highway then just be a trail, + If you can't be the sun be a star; + It isn't by size that you win or you fail-- + Be the best of whatever you are! + + +_Douglas Malloch._ + + + + +THE HOUSE BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD + + +This poem has as its keynote friendship and sympathy for other people. +It is a paradox of life that by hoarding love and happiness we lose +them, and that only by giving them away can we keep them for ourselves. +The more we share, the more we possess. We of course find in other +people weaknesses and sins, but our best means of curing these are +through a wise and sympathetic understanding. + + + Let me live in a house by the side of the road, + Where the race of men go by-- + The men who are good and the men who are bad, + As good and as bad as I. + I would not sit in the scorner's seat, + Or hurl the cynic's ban;-- + Let me live in a house by the side of the road + And be a friend to man. + + I see from my house by the side of the road, + By the side of the highway of life, + The men who press with the ardor of hope, + The men who are faint with the strife. + But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears-- + Both parts of an infinite plan;-- + Let me live in my house by the side of the road + And be a friend to man. + + I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead + And mountains of wearisome height; + And the road passes on through the long afternoon + And stretches away to the night. + But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice, + And weep with the strangers that moan, + Nor live in my house by the side of the road + Like a man who dwells alone. + + Let me live in my house by the side of the road + Where the race of men go by-- + They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong, + Wise, foolish--so am I. + Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat + Or hurl the cynic's ban?-- + Let me live in my house by the side of the road + And be a friend to man. + + +_Sam Walter Foss._ + +From "Dreams in Homespun." + + + + +FOUR THINGS + + +What are the qualities of ideal manhood? Various people have given +various answers to this question. Here the poet states what qualities he +thinks indispensable. + + + Four things a man must learn to do + If he would make his record true: + To think without confusion clearly; + To love his fellow-men sincerely; + To act from honest motives purely; + To trust in God and Heaven securely. + + +_Henry Van Dyke._ + +From "Collected Poems." + + + + +IF + + +The central idea of this poem is that success comes from self-control +and a true sense of the values of things. In extremes lies danger. A man +must not lose heart because of doubts or opposition, yet he must do his +best to see the grounds for both. He must not be deceived into thinking +either triumph or disaster final; he must use each wisely--and push on. +In all things he must hold to the golden mean. If he does, he will own +the world, and even better, for his personal reward he will attain the +full stature of manhood. + + + If you can keep your head when all about you + Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, + If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, + But make allowance for their doubting too; + If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, + Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, + Or being hated don't give way to hating, + And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: + + If you can dream--and not make dreams your master; + If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim, + If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster + And treat those two imposters just the same; + If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken + Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, + Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, + And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: + + If you can make one heap of all your winnings + And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, + And lose, and start again at your beginnings + And never breathe a word about your loss; + If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew + To serve your turn long after they are gone, + And so hold on when there is nothing in you + Except the Will which says to them; "Hold on!" + + If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, + Or walk with Kings--nor lose the common touch, + If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, + If all men count with you, but none too much; + If you can fill the unforgiving minute + With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, + Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, + And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son! + + +_Rudyard Kipling._ + +From "Rudyard Kipling's Verse, 1885-1918." + + + + +INVICTUS + + +Triumph in spirit over adverse conditions is the keynote of this poem of +courage undismayed. It rings with the power of the individual to guide +his own destiny. + + + Out of the night that covers me, + Black as the Pit from pole to pole, + I thank whatever gods may be + For my unconquerable soul. + + In the fell clutch of circumstance + I have not winced nor cried aloud. + Under the bludgeonings of chance + My head is bloody, but unbowed. + + Beyond this place of wrath and tears + Looms but the Horror of the shade, + And yet the menace of the years + Finds, and shall find, me unafraid. + + It matters not how strait the gate, + How charged with punishments the scroll, + I am the master of my fate: + I am the captain of my soul. + + +_William Ernest Henley._ + + + + +IT COULDN'T BE DONE + + +After a thing has been done, everybody is ready to declare it easy. But +before it has been done, it is called impossible. One reason why people +fear to embark upon great enterprises is that they see all the +difficulties at once. They know they could succeed in the initial tasks, +but they shrink from what is to follow. Yet "a thing begun is half +done." Moreover the surmounting of the first barrier gives strength and +ingenuity for the harder ones beyond. Mountains viewed from a distance +seem to be unscalable. But they can be climbed, and the way to begin is +to take the first upward step. From that moment the mountains are less +high. As Hannibal led his army across the foothills, then among the +upper ranges, and finally over the loftiest peaks and passes of the +Alps, or as Peary pushed farther and farther into the solitudes that +encompass the North Pole, so can you achieve any purpose whatsoever if +you heed not the doubters, meet each problem as it arises, and keep ever +with you the assurance _It Can Be Done_. + + + Somebody said that it couldn't be done, + But he with a chuckle replied + That "maybe it couldn't," but he would be one + Who wouldn't say so till he'd tried. + So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin + On his face. If he worried he hid it. + He started to sing as he tackled the thing + That couldn't be done, and he did it. + + Somebody scoffed: "Oh, you'll never do that; + At least no one ever has done it"; + But he took off his coat and he took off his hat, + And the first thing we knew he'd begun it. + With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin, + Without any doubting or quiddit, + He started to sing as he tackled the thing + That couldn't be done, and he did it. + + There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done, + There are thousands to prophesy failure; + There are thousands to point out to you one by one, + The dangers that wait to assail you. + But just buckle in with a bit of a grin, + Just take off your coat and go to it; + Just start to sing as you tackle the thing + That "cannot be done," and you'll do it. + + +_Edgar A. Guest._ + +From "The Path to Home." + + + + +THE WELCOME MAN + + + There's a man in the world who is never turned down, wherever + he chances to stray; he gets the glad hand in the populous + town, or out where the farmers make hay; he's greeted with + pleasure on deserts of sand, and deep in the aisles of the + woods; wherever he goes there's the welcoming hand--he's The + Man Who Delivers the Goods. The failures of life sit around and + complain; the gods haven't treated them white; they've lost + their umbrellas whenever there's rain, and they haven't their + lanterns at night; men tire of the failures who fill with their + sighs the air of their own neighborhoods; there's one who is + greeted with love-lighted eyes--he's The Man Who Delivers the + Goods. One fellow is lazy, and watches the clock, and waits for + the whistle to blow; and one has a hammer, with which he will + knock, and one tells a story of woe; and one, if requested to + travel a mile, will measure the perches and roods; but one does + his stunt with a whistle or smile--he's The Man Who Delivers + the Goods. One man is afraid that he'll labor too hard--the + world isn't yearning for such; and one man is always alert, on + his guard, lest he put in a minute too much; and one has a + grouch or a temper that's bad, and one is a creature of moods; + so it's hey for the joyous and rollicking lad--for the One Who + Delivers the Goods! + + +_Walt Mason._ + +From "Walt Mason, His Book." + + + + +THE QUITTER + + +In the famous naval duel between the _Bonhomme Richard_ and the +_Serapis_, John Paul Jones was hailed by his adversary to know whether +he struck his colors. "I have not yet begun to fight," was his answer. +When the surrender took place, it was not Jones's ship that became the +prize of war. Everybody admires a hard fighter--the man who takes +buffets standing up, and in a spirit of "Never say die" is always ready +for more. + + + When you're lost in the wild and you're scared as a child, + And death looks you bang in the eye; + And you're sore as a boil, it's according to Hoyle + To cock your revolver and die. + But the code of a man says fight all you can, + And self-dissolution is barred; + In hunger and woe, oh it's easy to blow-- + It's the hell served for breakfast that's hard. + + You're sick of the game? Well now, that's a shame! + You're young and you're brave and you're bright. + You've had a raw deal, I know, but don't squeal. + Buck up, do your damnedest and fight! + It's the plugging away that will win you the day, + So don't be a piker, old pard; + Just draw on your grit; it's so easy to quit-- + It's the keeping your chin up that's hard. + + It's easy to cry that you're beaten and die, + It's easy to crawfish and crawl, + But to fight and to fight when hope's out of sight, + Why, that's the best game of them all. + And though you come out of each grueling bout, + All broken and beaten and scarred-- + Just have one more try. It's dead easy to die, + It's the keeping on living that's hard. + + +_Robert W. Service._ + +From "Rhymes of a Rolling Stone." + + + +[Illustration: ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE] + + + + +FRIENDS OF MINE + + +We like to be hospitable. To what should we be more hospitable than a +glad spirit or a kind impulse? + + + Good-morning, Brother Sunshine, + Good-morning, Sister Song, + I beg your humble pardon + If you've waited very long. + I thought I heard you rapping, + To shut you out were sin, + My heart is standing open, + Won't you + walk + right + in? + + Good-morning, Brother Gladness, + Good-morning, Sister Smile, + They told me you were coming, + So I waited on a while. + I'm lonesome here without you, + A weary while it's been, + My heart is standing open, + Won't you + walk + right + in? + + Good-morning, Brother Kindness, + Good-morning, Sister Cheer, + I heard you were out calling, + So I waited for you here. + Some way, I keep forgetting + I have to toil or spin + When you are my companions, + Won't you + walk + right + in? + + +_James W. Foley._ + +From "The Voices of Song." + + + + +THE WOMAN WHO UNDERSTANDS + + +"Is this the little woman that made this great war?" was Lincoln's +greeting to Harriet Beecher Stowe. Often a woman is responsible for +events by whose crash and splendor she herself is obscured. Often too +she shapes the career of husband or brother or son. A man succeeds and +reaps the honors of public applause, when in truth a quiet little woman +has made it all possible--has by her tact and encouragement held him to +his best, has had faith in him when his own faith has languished, has +cheered him with the unfailing assurance, "You can, you must, you will." + + +_Somewhere she waits to make you win, your soul in her firm, white hands-- +Somewhere the gods have made for you, the Woman Who Understands!_ + + As the tide went out she found him + Lashed to a spar of Despair, + The wreck of his Ship around him-- + The wreck of his Dreams in the air; + Found him and loved him and gathered + The soul of him close to her heart-- + The soul that had sailed an uncharted sea, + The soul that had sought to win and be free-- + The soul of which _she_ was part! + And there in the dusk she cried to the man, + "Win your battle--you can, you can!" + + Broken by Fate, unrelenting, + Scarred by the lashings of Chance; + Bitter his heart--unrepenting-- + Hardened by Circumstance; + Shadowed by Failure ever, + Cursing, he would have died, + But the touch of her hand, her strong warm hand, + And her love of his soul, took full command, + Just at the turn of the tide! + Standing beside him, filled with trust, + "Win!" she whispered, "you must, you must!" + + Helping and loving and guiding, + Urging when that were best, + Holding her fears in hiding + Deep in her quiet breast; + This is the woman who kept him + True to his standards lost, + When, tossed in the storm and stress of strife, + He thought himself through with the game of life + And ready to pay the cost. + Watching and guarding, whispering still, + "Win you can--and you will, you will!" + + This is the story of ages, + This is the Woman's way; + Wiser than seers or sages, + Lifting us day by day; + Facing all things with a courage + Nothing can daunt or dim, + Treading Life's path, wherever it leads-- + Lined with flowers or choked with weeds, + But ever with him--with him! + Guidon--comrade--golden spur-- + The men who win are helped by _her_! + +_Somewhere she waits, strong in belief, your soul in her firm, white hands: +Thank well the gods, when she comes to you--the Woman Who Understands!_ + + +_Everard Jack Appleton._ + +From "The Quiet Courage." + + + + +WANTED--A MAN + + +Business and the world are exacting in their demands upon us. They make +no concessions to half-heartedness, incompetence, or plodding mediocrity. +But for the man who has proved his worth and can do the exceptional +things with originality and sound judgment, they are eagerly watchful +and have rich rewards. + + + You say big corporations scheme + To keep a fellow down; + They drive him, shame him, starve him too + If he so much as frown. + God knows I hold no brief for them; + Still, come with me to-day + And watch those fat directors meet, + For this is what they say: + + "In all our force not one to take + The new work that we plan! + In all the thousand men we've hired + Where shall we find a man?" + + The world is shabby in the way + It treats a fellow too; + It just endures him while he works, + And kicks him when he's through. + It's ruthless, yes; let him make good, + Or else it grabs its broom + And grumbles: "What a clutter's here! + We can't have this. Make room!" + + And out he goes. It says, "Can bread + Be made from mouldy bran? + The men come swarming here in droves, + But where'll I find a man?" + + Yes, life is hard. But all the same + It seeks the man who's best. + Its grudging makes the prizes big; + The obstacle's a test. + Don't ask to find the pathway smooth, + To march to fife and drum; + The plum-tree will not come to you; + Jack Horner, hunt the plum. + + The eyes of life are yearning, sad, + As humankind they scan. + She says, "Oh, there are men enough, + But where'll I find a man?" + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +IF I SHOULD DIE + + +A man whose word is as good as his bond is a man the world admires. It +is related of Fox that a tradesman whom he long had owed money found him +one day counting gold and asked for payment. Fox replied: "No; I owe +this money to Sheridan. It is a debt of honor. If an accident should +happen to me, he has nothing to show." The tradesman tore his note to +pieces: "I change my debt into a debt of honor." Fox thanked him and +handed over the money, saying that Sheridan's debt was not of so long +standing and that Sheridan must wait. But most of us know men who are +less scrupulous than Fox. + + + If I should die to-night + And you should come to my cold corpse and say, + Weeping and heartsick o'er my lifeless clay-- + If I should die to-night, + And you should come in deepest grief and woe-- + And say: "Here's that ten dollars that I owe," + I might arise in my large white cravat + And say, "What's that?" + + If I should die to-night + And you should come to my cold corpse and kneel, + Clasping my bier to show the grief you feel, + I say, if I should die to-night + And you should come to me, and there and then + Just even hint 'bout payin' me that ten, + I might arise the while, + But I'd drop dead again. + + +_Ben King._ + +From "Ben King's Verse." + + + + +JUST BE GLAD + + +Misfortunes overtake us, difficulties confront us; but these things must +not induce us to give up. A Congressman who had promised Thomas B. Reed +to be present at a political meeting telegraphed at the last moment: +"Cannot come; washout on the line." "No need to stay away," said Reed's +answering telegram; "buy another shirt." + + + O heart of mine, we shouldn't + Worry so! + What we've missed of calm we couldn't + Have, you know! + What we've met of stormy pain, + And of sorrow's driving rain, + We can better meet again, + If it blow! + + We have erred in that dark hour + We have known, + When our tears fell with the shower, + All alone!-- + Were not shine and shower blent + As the gracious Master meant?-- + Let us temper our content + With His own. + + For, we know, not every morrow + Can be sad; + So, forgetting all the sorrow + We have had, + Let us fold away our fears, + And put by our foolish tears, + And through all the coming years + Just be glad. + + +_James Whitcomb Riley._ + +From the Biographical Edition Of the +Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley. + + + + +OPPORTUNITY + + +"I lack only one of having a hundred," said a student after an +examination; "I have the two naughts." And all he did lack was a one, +_rightly placed_. The world is full of opportunities. Discernment to +perceive, courage to undertake, patience to carry through, will change +the whole aspect of the universe for us and bring positive achievement +out of meaningless negation. + + + With doubt and dismay you are smitten + You think there's no chance for you, son? + Why, the best books haven't been written + The best race hasn't been run, + The best score hasn't been made yet, + The best song hasn't been sung, + The best tune hasn't been played yet, + Cheer up, for the world is young! + + No chance? Why the world is just eager + For things that you ought to create + Its store of true wealth is still meagre + Its needs are incessant and great, + It yearns for more power and beauty + More laughter and love and romance, + More loyalty, labor and duty, + No chance--why there's nothing but chance! + + For the best verse hasn't been rhymed yet, + The best house hasn't been planned, + The highest peak hasn't been climbed yet, + The mightiest rivers aren't spanned, + Don't worry and fret, faint hearted, + The chances have just begun, + For the Best jobs haven't been started, + The Best work hasn't been done. + + +_Berton Braley._ + +From "A Banjo at Armageddon." + + + + +SOLITUDE + + +Said an Irishman who had several times been kicked downstairs: "I begin +to think they don't want me around here." So it is with our sorrows, our +struggles. Life decrees that they belong to us individually. If we try +to make others share them, we are shunned. But struggling and weary +humanity is glad enough to share our joys. + + + Laugh, and the world laughs with you; + Weep, and you weep alone; + For the sad old earth + Must borrow its mirth, + It has trouble enough of its own. + + Sing, and the hills will answer; + Sigh, it is lost on the air; + The echoes bound + To a joyful sound, + But shrink from voicing care. + + Rejoice, and men will seek you; + Grieve, and they turn and go; + They want full measure + Of all your pleasure, + But they do not want your woe. + + Be glad, and your friends are many; + Be sad, and you lose them all; + There are none to decline + Your nectared wine, + But alone you must drink life's gall. + + Feast, and your halls are crowded; + Fast, and the world goes by; + Succeed and give, + And it helps you live, + But it cannot help you die. + + There is room in the halls of pleasure + For a long and lordly train; + But one by one + We must all file on + Through the narrow aisles of pain. + + +_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._ + +From "How Salvator Won." + + + + +UNSUBDUED + + +"An artist's career," said Whistler, "always begins to-morrow." So does +the career of any man of courage and imagination. The Eden of such a man +does not lie in yesterday. If he has done well, he forgets his +achievements and dreams of the big deeds ahead. If he has been thwarted, +he forgets his failures and looks forward to vast, sure successes. If +fate itself opposes him, he defies it. Farragut's fleet was forcing an +entrance into Mobile Bay. One of the vessels struck something, a +terrific explosion followed, the vessel went down. "Torpedoes, sir." +They scanned the face of the commander-in-chief. But Farragut did not +hesitate. "Damn the torpedoes," said he. "Go ahead." + + + I have hoped, I have planned, I have striven, + To the will I have added the deed; + The best that was in me I've given, + I have prayed, but the gods would not heed. + + I have dared and reached only disaster, + I have battled and broken my lance; + I am bruised by a pitiless master + That the weak and the timid call Chance. + + I am old, I am bent, I am cheated + Of all that Youth urged me to win; + But name me not with the defeated, + To-morrow again, I begin. + + +_S.E. Kiser._ + +From "Poems That Have Helped Me." + + + + +WORK + +"A SONG OF TRIUMPH" + + +When Captain John Smith was made the leader of the colonists at +Jamestown, Va., he discouraged the get-rich-quick seekers of gold by +announcing flatly, "He who will not work shall not eat." This rule made +of Jamestown the first permanent English settlement in the New World. +But work does more than lead to material success. It gives an outlet +from sorrow, restrains wild desires, ripens and refines character, +enables human beings to cooperate with God, and when well done, brings +to life its consummate satisfaction. Every man is a Prince of +Possibilities, but by work alone can he come into his Kingship. + + + Work! + Thank God for the might of it, + The ardor, the urge, the delight of it-- + Work that springs from the heart's desire, + Setting the brain and the soul on fire-- + Oh, what is so good as the heat of it, + And what is so glad as the beat of it, + And what is so kind as the stern command, + Challenging brain and heart and hand? + + Work! + Thank God for the pride of it, + For the beautiful, conquering tide of it. + Sweeping the life in its furious flood, + Thrilling the arteries, cleansing the blood, + Mastering stupor and dull despair, + Moving the dreamer to do and dare. + Oh, what is so good as the urge of it, + And what is so glad as the surge of it, + And what is so strong as the summons deep, + Rousing the torpid soul from sleep? + + Work! + Thank God for the pace of it, + For the terrible, keen, swift race of it; + Fiery steeds in full control, + Nostrils a-quiver to greet the goal. + Work, the Power that drives behind, + Guiding the purposes, taming the mind, + Holding the runaway wishes back, + Reining the will to one steady track, + Speeding the energies faster, faster, + Triumphing over disaster. + Oh, what is so good as the pain of it, + And what is so great as the gain of it? + And what is so kind as the cruel goad, + Forcing us on through the rugged road? + + Work! + Thank God for the swing of it, + For the clamoring, hammering ring of it, + Passion and labor daily hurled + On the mighty anvils of the world. + Oh, what is so fierce as the flame of it? + And what is so huge as the aim of it? + Thundering on through dearth and doubt, + Calling the plan of the Maker out. + Work, the Titan; Work, the friend, + Shaping the earth to a glorious end, + Draining the swamps and blasting the hills, + Doing whatever the Spirit wills-- + Rending a continent apart, + To answer the dream of the Master heart. + Thank God for a world where none may shirk-- + Thank God for the splendor of work! + + +_Angela Morgan._ + +From "The Hour Has Struck." + + + + +HOW DID YOU DIE? + + +Grant at Ft. Donelson demanded unconditional and immediate surrender. At +Appomattox he offered as lenient terms as victor ever extended to +vanquished. Why the difference? The one event was at the beginning of +the war, when the enemy's morale must be shaken. The other was at the +end of the conflict, when a brave and noble adversary had been rendered +helpless. In his quiet way Grant showed himself one of nature's +gentlemen. He also taught a great lesson. No honor can be too great for +the man, be he even our foe, who has steadily and uncomplainingly done +his very best--and has failed. + + + Did you tackle that trouble that came your way + With a resolute heart and cheerful? + Or hide your face from the light of day + With a craven soul and fearful? + Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce, + Or a trouble is what you make it, + And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts, + But only how did you take it? + + You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that! + Come up with a smiling face. + It's nothing against you to fall down flat, + But to lie there--that's disgrace. + The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce + Be proud of your blackened eye! + It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts; + It's how did you fight--and why? + + And though you be done to the death, what then? + If you battled the best you could, + If you played your part in the world of men, + Why, the Critic will call it good. + Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce, + And whether he's slow or spry, + It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts, + But only how did you die? + + +_Edmund Vance Cooke._ + +From "Impertinent Poems." + + + + +A LESSON FROM HISTORY + + +To break the ice of an undertaking is difficult. To cross on broken ice, +as Eliza did to freedom, or to row amid floating ice, as Washington did +to victory, is harder still. This poem applies especially to those who +are discouraged in a struggle to which they are already committed. + + + Everything's easy after it's done; + Every battle's a "cinch" that's won; + Every problem is clear that's solved-- + The earth was round when it _revolved!_ + But Washington stood amid grave doubt + With enemy forces camped about; + He could not know how he would fare + Till _after_ he'd crossed the Delaware. + + Though the river was full of ice + He did not think about it twice, + But started across in the dead of night, + The enemy waiting to open the fight. + Likely feeling pretty blue, + Being human, same as you, + But he was brave amid despair, + And Washington crossed the Delaware! + + So when you're with trouble beset, + And your spirits are soaking wet, + When all the sky with clouds is black, + Don't lie down upon your back + And look at _them_. Just do the thing; + Though you are choked, still try to sing. + If times are dark, believe them fair, + And you will cross the Delaware! + + +_Joseph Morris._ + + + + +RABBI BEN EZRA + +(SELECTED VERSES) + + +To some people success is everything, and the easier it is gained the +better. To Browning success is nothing unless it is won by painful +effort. What Browning values is struggle. Throes, rebuffs, even failure +to achieve what we wish, are to be welcomed, for the effects of vigorous +endeavor inweave themselves into our characters; moreover through +struggle we lift ourselves from the degradation into which the indolent +fall. In the intervals of strife we may look back dispassionately upon +what we have gone through, see where we erred and where we did wisely, +watch the workings of universal laws, and resolve to apply hereafter +what we have hitherto learned. + + + Then, welcome each rebuff + That turns earth's smoothness rough, + Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand but go! + Be our joys three-parts pain! + Strive, and hold cheap the strain; + Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the throe! + + For thence,--a paradox + Which comforts while it mocks,-- + Shall life succeed in that it seems to fail: + What I aspired to be, + And was not, comforts me: + A brute I might have been, but would not sink i' the scale. + + So, still within this life, + Though lifted o'er its strife, + Let me discern, compare, pronounce at last, + "This rage was right i' the main, + That acquiescence vain: + The Future I may face now I have proved the Past." + + For more is not reserved + To man, with soul just nerved + To act to-morrow what he learns to-day: + Here, work enough to watch + The Master work, and catch + Hints of the proper craft, tricks of the tool's true play. + + +_Robert Browning._ + + + + +TO MELANCHOLY + + +The last invitation anybody would accept is "Come, let us weep +together." If we keep melancholy at our house, we should be careful to +have it under lock and key, so that no one will observe it. + + + Melancholy, + Melancholy, + I've no use for you, by Golly! + Yet I'm going to keep you hidden + In some chamber dark, forbidden, + Just as though you were a prize, sir, + Made of gold, and I a miser-- + Not because I think you jolly, + Melancholy! + Not for that I mean to hoard you, + Keep you close and lodge and board you + As I would my sisters, brothers, + Cousins, aunts, and old grandmothers, + But that you shan't bother others + With your sniffling, snuffling folly, + Howling, + Yowling, + Melancholy. + + +_John Kendrick Bangs._ + +From "Songs of Cheer." + + + + +THE LION PATH + + +Admiral Dupont was explaining to Farragut his reasons for not taking his +ironclads into Charleston harbor. "You haven't given me the main reason +yet," said Farragut. "What's that?" "You didn't think you could do it." +So the man who thinks he can't pass a lion, can't. But the man who +thinks he can, can. Indeed he oftentimes finds that the lion isn't +really there at all. + + + I dare not!-- + Look! the road is very dark-- + The trees stir softly and the bushes shake, + The long grass rustles, and the darkness moves + Here! there! beyond--! + There's something crept across the road just now! + And you would have me go--? + Go _there_, through that live darkness, hideous + With stir of crouching forms that wait to kill? + Ah, _look_! See there! and there! and there again! + Great yellow, glassy eyes, close to the ground! + Look! Now the clouds are lighter I can see + The long slow lashing of the sinewy tails, + And the set quiver of strong jaws that wait--! + Go there? Not I! Who dares to go who sees + So perfectly the lions in the path? + + Comes one who dares. + Afraid at first, yet bound + On such high errand as no fear could stay. + Forth goes he, with lions in his path. + And then--? + He dared a death of agony-- + Outnumbered battle with the king of beasts-- + Long struggles in the horror of the night-- + Dared, and went forth to meet--O ye who fear! + Finding an empty road, and nothing there-- + And fences, and the dusty roadside trees-- + Some spitting kittens, maybe, in the grass. + + +_Charlotte Perkins Gilman._ + +From "In This Our World." + + + + +THE ANSWER + + +Bob Fitzsimmons lacked the physical bulk of the men he fought, was +ungainly in build and movement, and not infrequently got himself floored +in the early rounds of his contests. But many people consider him the +best fighter for his weight who ever stepped into the prize ring. Not a +favorite at first, he won the popular heart by making good. Of course he +had great natural powers; from any position when the chance at last came +he could dart forth a sudden, wicked blow that no human being could +withstand. But more formidable still was the spirit which gave him cool +and complete command of all his resources, and made him most dangerous +when he was on the verge of being knocked out. + + + When the battle breaks against you and the crowd forgets to cheer + When the Anvil Chorus echoes with the essence of a jeer; + When the knockers start their panning in the knocker's nimble way + With a rap for all your errors and a josh upon your play-- + There is one quick answer ready that will nail them on the wing; + There is one reply forthcoming that will wipe away the sting; + There is one elastic come-back that will hold them, as it should-- + Make good. + + No matter where you finish in the mix-up or the row, + There are those among the rabble who will pan you anyhow; + But the entry who is sticking and delivering the stuff + Can listen to the yapping as he giggles up his cuff; + The loafer has no come-back and the quitter no reply + When the Anvil Chorus echoes, as it will, against the sky; + But there's one quick answer ready that will wrap them in a hood-- + Make good. + + +_Grantland Rice._ + +From "The Sportlight." + + + + +THE WORLD IS AGAINST ME + + +Babe Ruth doesn't complain that opposing pitchers try to strike him out; +he swings at the ball till he swats it for four bases. Ty Cobb doesn't +complain that whole teams work wits and muscles overtime to keep him +from stealing home; he pits himself against them all and comes galloping +or hurdling or sliding in. What other men can do any man can do if he +works long enough with a brave enough heart. + + + "The world is against me," he said with a sigh. + "Somebody stops every scheme that I try. + The world has me down and it's keeping me there; + I don't get a chance. Oh, the world is unfair! + When a fellow is poor then he can't get a show; + The world is determined to keep him down low." + + "What of Abe Lincoln?" I asked. "Would you say + That he was much richer than you are to-day? + He hadn't your chance of making his mark, + And his outlook was often exceedingly dark; + Yet he clung to his purpose with courage most grim + And he got to the top. Was the world against him? + + "What of Ben Franklin? I've oft heard it said + That many a time he went hungry to bed. + He started with nothing but courage to climb, + But patiently struggled and waited his time. + He dangled awhile from real poverty's limb, + Yet he got to the top. Was the world against him? + + "I could name you a dozen, yes, hundreds, I guess, + Of poor boys who've patiently climbed to success; + All boys who were down and who struggled alone, + Who'd have thought themselves rich if your fortune they'd known; + Yet they rose in the world you're so quick to condemn, + And I'm asking you now, was the world against them?" + + +_Edgar A. Guest._ + +From "Just Folks." + + + + +SAY NOT THE STRUGGLE NOUGHT AVAILETH + + +In any large or prolonged enterprise we are likely to take too limited a +view of the progress we are making. The obstacles do not yield at some +given point; we therefore imagine we have made no headway. The poet here +uses three comparisons to show the folly of accepting this hasty and +partial evidence. A soldier may think, from the little part of the +battle he can see, that the day is going against him; but by holding his +ground stoutly he may help his comrades in another quarter to win the +victory. Successive waves may seem to rise no higher on the land, but +far back in swollen creek and inlet is proof that the tide is coming in. +As we look toward the east, we are discouraged at the slowness of +daybreak; but by looking westward we see the whole landscape illumined. + + + Say not the struggle nought availeth, + The labor and the wounds are vain, + The enemy faints not, nor faileth, + And as things have been they remain. + + If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars; + It may be, in yon smoke conceal'd, + Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers, + And, but for you, possess the field. + + For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, + Seem here no painful inch to gain, + Far back, through creeks and inlets making, + Comes silent, flooding in, the main. + + And not by eastern windows only, + When daylight comes, comes in the light, + In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly, + But westward, look, the land is bright. + + +_Arthur Hugh Clough._ + + + + +WORTH WHILE + + +A little boy whom his mother had rebuked for not turning a deaf ear to +temptation protested, with tears, that he had no deaf ear. But +temptation, even when heard, must somehow be resisted. Yea, especially +when heard! We deserve no credit for resisting it unless it comes to our +ears like the voice of the siren. + + + It is easy enough to be pleasant, + When life flows by like a song, + But the man worth while is one who will smile, + When everything goes dead wrong. + For the test of the heart is trouble, + And it always comes with the years, + And the smile that is worth the praises of earth, + Is the smile that shines through tears. + + It is easy enough to be prudent, + When nothing tempts you to stray, + When without or within no voice of sin + Is luring your soul away; + But it's only a negative virtue + Until it is tried by fire, + And the life that is worth the honor on earth, + Is the one that resists desire. + + By the cynic, the sad, the fallen, + Who had no strength for the strife, + The world's highway is cumbered to-day, + They make up the sum of life. + But the virtue that conquers passion, + And the sorrow that hides in a smile, + It is these that are worth the homage on earth + For we find them but once in a while. + + +_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._ + +From "Poems of Sentiment." + + + + +HOPE + + +Gloom and despair are really ignorance in another form. They fail to +reckon with the fact that what appears to be baneful often turns out to +be good. Lincoln lost the senatorship to Douglas and thought he had +ended his career; had he won the contest, he might have remained only a +senator. Life often has surprise parties for us. Things come to us +masked in gloom and black; but Time, the revealer, strips off the +disguise, and lo, what we have is blessings. + + + Never go gloomy, man with a mind, + Hope is a better companion than fear; + Providence, ever benignant and kind, + Gives with a smile what you take with a tear; + All will be right, + Look to the light. + Morning was ever the daughter of night; + All that was black will be all that is bright, + Cheerily, cheerily, then cheer up. + + Many a foe is a friend in disguise, + Many a trouble a blessing most true, + Helping the heart to be happy and wise, + With love ever precious and joys ever new. + Stand in the van, + Strike like a man! + This is the bravest and cleverest plan; + Trusting in God while you do what you can. + Cheerily, cheerily, then cheer up. + + +_Anonymous._ + + + + +I'M GLAD + + + I'm glad the sky is painted blue; + And the earth is painted green; + And such a lot of nice fresh air + All sandwiched in between. + + +_Anonymous._ + + + + +THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS + + +The nautilus is a small mollusk that creeps upon the bottom of the sea, +though it used to be supposed to swim, or even to spread a kind of sail +so that the wind might drive it along the surface. What interests us in +this poem is the way the nautilus _grows_. Just as a tree when sawed +down has the record of its age in the number of its rings, so does the +nautilus measure its age by the ever-widening compartments of its shell. +These it has successively occupied. The poet, looking upon the now empty +shell, thinks of human life as growing in the same way. We advance from +one state of being to another, each nobler than the one which preceded +it, until the spirit leaves its shell altogether and attains a glorious +and perfect freedom. + + + This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, + Sailed the unshadowed main,-- + The venturous bark that flings + On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings + In gulfs enchanted, where the Siren sings, + And coral reefs lie bare, + Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair. + + Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl; + Wrecked is the ship of pearl! + And every chambered cell, + Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell, + As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell, + Before thee lies revealed,-- + Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed! + + Year after year beheld the silent toil + That spread his lustrous coil; + Still, as the spiral grew, + He left the past year's dwelling for the new, + Stole with soft step its shining archway through, + Built up its idle door, + Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more. + + Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, + Child of the wandering sea, + Cast from her lap, forlorn! + From thy dead lips a clearer note is born + Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn! + While on mine ear it rings, + Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:-- + + Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, + As the swift seasons roll! + Leave thy low-vaulted past! + Let each new temple, nobler than the last, + Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, + Till thou at length art free, + Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea! + + +_Oliver Wendell Holmes._ + + + + +PIPPA'S SONG + + +This little song vibrates with an optimism that embraces the whole +universe. A frequent error in quoting it is the substitution of the word +_well_ for _right_. Browning is no such shallow optimist as to believe +that all is well with the world, but he does maintain that things are +right with the world, for in spite of its present evils it is slowly +working its way toward perfection, and in the great scheme of things it +may make these evils themselves an instrument to move it toward its +ultimate goal. + + + The year's at the spring + And day's at the morn; + Morning's at seven; + The hillside's dew-pearled; + The lark's on the wing; + The snail's on the thorn; + God's in his heaven-- + All's right with the world. + + +_Robert Browning._ + + + + +OWNERSHIP + + +The true value of anything lies, not in the object itself or in its +legal possession, but in our attitude to it. We may own a thing in fee +simple, yet derive from it nothing but vexation. For those who have +little, as indeed for those who have much, there are no surer means of +happiness than enjoying that which they do not possess. Emerson shows us +that two harvests may be gathered from every field--a material one by +the man who raised the crop, and an esthetic or spiritual one by +whosoever can see beauty or thrill with an inner satisfaction. + + + They ride in Packards, those swell guys, + While I can't half afford a Ford; + Choice fillets fill a void for them, + We've cheese and prunes the place I board; + They've smirking servants hanging round, + You'd guess by whom my shoes are shined. + But all the same I'm rich as they, + For ownership's a state of mind. + + _They_ own, you say? Pshaw, they possess! + And what a fellow has, has him! + The rich can't stop and just enjoy + Their lawns and shrubs and house-fronts trim. + They're tied indoors and foot the bills; + I stroll or stray, as I'm inclined-- + Possession was not meant for use, + But ownership's a state of mind. + + The folks who have must try to keep + Against the thieves who swarm and steal; + They dare not stride, they mince along-- + Their pavement's a banana peel. + Who owns, the jeweler or I, + Yon gems by window-bars confined? + Possession lies in locks and keys; + True ownership's a state of mind. + + I own my office (I've a boss, + But so have all men--so has he); + The business is not mine, but yet + I own the whole blamed company; + Stockholders are less proud than I + When competition's auld lang syned. + What care I that the profit's theirs? + I have what counts--an owner's mind. + + The pretty girls I meet are mine + (I do not choose to tell them so); + I own the flowers, the trees, the birds; + I own the sunshine and the snow; + I own the block, I own the town-- + The smiles, the songs of humankind. + For ownership is how you feel; + It's just a healthy state of mind. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +A SMILING PARADOX + + +Good nature or ill is like the loaves and fishes. The more we give away, +the more we have. + + + I've squandered smiles to-day, + And, strange to say, + Altho' my frowns with care I've stowed away, + To-night I'm poorer far in frowns than at the start; + While in my heart, + Wherein my treasures best I store, + I find my smiles increased by several score. + + +_John Kendrick Bangs._ + +From "Songs of Cheer." + + + + +THE NEW DUCKLING + + +There are people who, without having anything exceptional in their +natures or purposes or visions, yet try to be different for the sake of +being different. They are not content to be what they are; they wish to +be "utterly other." Of course they are hollow, artificial, insincere; +moreover they are nuisances. Their very foundations are wrong ones. Be +_yourself_ unless you're a fool; in that case, of course, try to be +somebody else. + + + "I want to be new," said the duckling. + "O ho!" said the wise old owl, + While the guinea-hen cluttered off chuckling + To tell all the rest of the fowl. + + "I should like a more elegant figure," + That child of a duck went on. + "I should like to grow bigger and bigger, + Until I could swallow a swan. + + "I _won't_ be the bond slave of habit, + I _won't_ have these webs on my toes. + I want to run round like a rabbit, + A rabbit as red as a rose. + + "I _don't_ want to waddle like mother, + Or quack like my silly old dad. + I want to be utterly other, + And _frightfully_ modern and mad." + + "Do you know," said the turkey, "you're quacking! + There's a fox creeping up thro' the rye; + And, if you're not utterly lacking, + You'll make for that duck-pond. Good-bye!" + + But the duckling was perky as perky. + "Take care of your stuffing!" he called. + (This was horribly rude to a turkey!) + "But you aren't a real turkey," he bawled. + + "You're an Early-Victorian Sparrow! + A fox is more fun than a sheep! + I shall show that _my_ mind is not narrow + And give him my feathers--to keep." + + Now the curious end of this fable, + So far as the rest ascertained, + Though they searched from the barn to the stable, + Was that _only his feathers remained._ + + So he _wasn't_ the bond slave of habit, + And he _didn't_ have webs on his toes; + And _perhaps_ he runs round like a rabbit, + A rabbit as red as a rose. + + +_Alfred Noyes._ + +From "Collected Poems." + + + + +CAN YOU SING A SONG? + + +Nothing lifts the spirit more than a song, especially the _inward_ song +of a worker who can sound it alike at the beginning of his task, in the +heat of midday, and in the weariness and cool of the evening. + + + Can you sing a song to greet the sun, + Can you cheerily tackle the work to be done, + Can you vision it finished when only begun, + Can you sing a song? + + Can you sing a song when the day's half through, + When even the thought of the rest wearies you, + With so little done and so much to do, + Can you sing a song? + + Can you sing a song at the close of the day, + When weary and tired, the work's put away, + With the joy that it's done the best of the pay, + Can you sing a song? + + +_Joseph Morris._ + + + + +KNOW THYSELF + + +It seems impossible that human beings could endure so much until we +realize that they _have_ endured it. The spirit of man performs +miracles; it transcends the limitations of flesh and blood. It is like +Uncle Remus's account of Brer Rabbit climbing a tree. "A rabbit couldn't +do that," the little boy protested. "He did," Uncle Remus responded; "he +was jes' 'bleeged to." + + + Reined by an unseen tyrant's hand, + Spurred by an unseen tyrant's will, + Aquiver at the fierce command + That goads you up the danger hill, + You cry: "O Fate, O Life, be kind! + Grant but an hour of respite--give + One moment to my suffering mind! + I can not keep the pace and live." + But Fate drives on and will not heed + The lips that beg, the feet that bleed. + Drives, while you faint upon the road, + Drives, with a menace for a goad; + With fiery reins of circumstance + Urging his terrible advance + The while you cry in your despair, + "The pain is more than I can bear!" + + Fear not the goad, fear not the pace, + Plead not to fall from out the race-- + It is your own Self driving you, + Your Self that you have never known, + Seeing your little self alone. + Your Self, high-seated charioteer, + Master of cowardice and fear, + Your Self that sees the shining length + Of all the fearful road ahead, + Knows that the terrors that you dread + Are pigmies to your splendid strength; + Strength you have never even guessed, + Strength that has never needed rest. + Your Self that holds the mastering rein, + Seeing beyond the sweat and pain + And anguish of your driven soul, + The patient beauty of the goal! + + Fighting upon the terror field + Where man and Fate came breast to breast, + Prest by a thousand foes to yield, + Tortured and wounded without rest, + You cried: "Be merciful, O Life-- + The strongest spirit soon must break + Before this all-unequal strife, + This endless fight for failure's sake!" + But Fate, unheeding, lifted high + His sword, and thrust you through to die, + And then there came one strong and great, + Who towered high o'er Chance and Fate, + Who bound your wound and eased your pain + And bade you rise and fight again. + And from some source you did not guess + Gushed a great tide of happiness-- + A courage mightier than the sun-- + You rose and fought and, fighting, won! + + It was your own Self saving you, + Your Self no man has ever known, + Looking on flesh and blood alone. + That Self that lives so close to God + As roots that feed upon the sod. + That one who stands behind the screen, + Looks through the window of your eyes-- + A being out of Paradise. + The Self no human eye has seen, + The living one who never tires, + Fed by the deep eternal fires. + Your flaming Self, with two-edged sword, + Made in the likeness of the Lord, + Angel and guardian at the gate, + Master of Death and King of Fate! + + +_Angela Morgan._ + +From "The Hour Has Struck." + + + + +JUST WHISTLE + + +There is a psychological benefit in the mere physical act of whistling. +When the body makes music, the spirit falls into harmonies too and the +discords that assail us cease to make themselves heard. + + + When times are bad an' folks are sad + An' gloomy day by day, + Jest try your best at lookin' glad + An' whistle 'em away. + + Don't mind how troubles bristle, + Jest take a rose or thistle. + Hold your own + An' change your tone + An' whistle, whistle, whistle! + + A song is worth a world o' sighs. + When red the lightnings play, + Look for the rainbow in the skies + An' whistle 'em away. + + Don't mind how troubles bristle, + The rose comes with the thistle. + Hold your own + An' change your tone + An' whistle, whistle, whistle! + + Each day comes with a life that's new, + A strange, continued story + But still beneath a bend o' blue + The world rolls on to glory. + + Don't mind how troubles bristle, + Jest take a rose or thistle. + Hold your own + An' change your tone + An' whistle, whistle, whistle! + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + + + +[Illustration: GRANTLAND RICE] + + + + +"MIGHT HAVE BEEN" + + +"Yes, it's pretty hard," the optimistic old woman admitted. "I have to +get along with only two teeth, one in the upper jaw and one in the +lower--but thank God, they meet." + + + Here's to "The days that might have been"; + Here's to "The life I might have led"; + The fame I might have gathered in-- + The glory ways I might have sped. + Great "Might Have Been," I drink to you + Upon a throne where thousands hail-- + And then--there looms another view-- + I also "might have been" in jail. + + O "Land of Might Have Been," we turn + With aching hearts to where you wait; + Where crimson fires of glory burn, + And laurel crowns the guarding gate; + We may not see across your fields + The sightless skulls that knew their woe-- + The broken spears--the shattered shields-- + That "might have been" as truly so. + + "Of all sad words of tongue or pen"-- + So wails the poet in his pain-- + The saddest are, "It might have been," + And world-wide runs the dull refrain. + The saddest? Yes--but in the jar + This thought brings to me with its curse, + I sometimes think the gladdest are + "It might have been a blamed sight worse." + + +_Grantland Rice._ + +From "The Sportlight." + + + + +THE ONE + + +In our youth we picture ourselves as we will be in the future--not mere +types of this or that kind of success, but above all and in all, Ideal +Men. Then come the years and the struggles, and we are buffeted and +baffled, and our very ideal is eclipsed. But others have done better +than we. Weary and harassed, they yet embody our visions. And we, if we +are worth our salt, do not envy them when we see them. Nor should we +grow dispirited. Rather should we rejoice in their triumph, rejoice that +our dreams were not impossibilities, take courage to strive afresh for +that which we know is best. + + + I knew his face the moment that he passed + Triumphant in the thoughtless, cruel throng,-- + Triumphant, though the quiet, tired eyes + Showed that his soul had suffered overlong. + And though across his brow faint lines of care + Were etched, somewhat of Youth still lingered there. + I gently touched his arm--he smiled at me-- + He was the Man that Once I Meant to Be! + + Where I had failed, he'd won from life, Success; + Where I had stumbled, with sure feet he stood; + Alike--yet unalike--we faced the world, + And through the stress he found that life was good + And I? The bitter wormwood in the glass, + The shadowed way along which failures pass! + Yet as I saw him thus, joy came to me-- + He was the Man that Once I Meant to Be! + + I knew him! And I knew he knew me for + The man HE might have been. Then did his soul + Thank silently the gods that gave him strength + To win, while I so sorely missed the goal? + He turned, and quickly in his own firm hand + He took my own--the gulf of Failure spanned, ... + And that was all--strong, self-reliant, free, + He was the Man that Once I Meant to Be! + + We did not speak. But in his sapient eyes + I saw the spirit that had urged him on, + The courage that had held him through the fight + Had once been mine, I thought, "Can it be gone?" + He felt that unasked question--felt it so + His pale lips formed the one-word answer, "No!" + + * * * * * + + Too late to win? No! Not too late for me-- + He is the Man that Still I Mean to Be! + + +_Everard Jack Appleton._ + +From "The Quiet Courage." + + + + +THE JOY OF LIVING + + +Men too often act as if life were nothing more than hardships to be +endured and difficulties to be overcome. They look upon what is happy or +inspiring with eyes that really fail to see. As Wordsworth says of Peter +Bell, + + "A primrose by the river's brim + A yellow primrose was to him, + And it was nothing more." + +But to stop now and then and realize that the world is fresh and buoyant +and happy, will do much to keep the spirit young. We should be glad that +we are alive, should tell ourselves often in the words of Charles Lamb: +"I am in love with this green earth." + + + The south wind is driving + His splendid cloud-horses + Through vast fields of blue. + The bare woods are singing, + The brooks in their courses + Are bubbling and springing + And dancing and leaping, + The violets peeping. + I'm glad to be living: + Aren't you? + + +_Gamaliel Bradford._ + + + + +THERE WILL ALWAYS BE SOMETHING TO DO + + +An old lady, famous for her ability to find in other people traits that +she could commend, was challenged to say a good word for the devil. +After a moment's hesitation she answered, "You must at least give him +credit for being industrious." Perhaps it is this superactivity of Satan +that causes beings less wickedly inclined to have such scope for the +exercise of their qualities. Certain it is that nobody need hang back +from want of something to do, to promote, to assail, to protect, to +endure, or to sympathize with. + + + There will always be something to do, my boy; + There will always be wrongs to right; + There will always be need for a manly breed + And men unafraid to fight. + There will always be honor to guard, my boy; + There will always be hills to climb, + And tasks to do, and battles new + From now till the end of time. + + There will always be dangers to face, my boy; + There will always be goals to take; + Men shall be tried, when the roads divide, + And proved by the choice they make. + There will always be burdens to bear, my boy; + There will always be need to pray; + There will always be tears through the future years, + As loved ones are borne away. + + There will always be God to serve, my boy, + And always the Flag above; + They shall call to you until life is through + For courage and strength and love. + So these are things that I dream, my boy, + And have dreamed since your life began: + That whatever befalls, when the old world calls, + It shall find you a sturdy man. + + +_Edgar A. Guest._ + +From "The Path to Home." + + + + +GOOD INTENTIONS + + +Thinking you would like a square meal will not in itself earn you one. +Thinking you would like a strong body will not without effort on your +part make you an athlete. Thinking you would like to be kind or +successful will not bring you gentleness or achievement if you stop with +mere thinking. The arrows of intention must have the bow of strong +purpose to impel them. + + + The road to hell, they assure me, + With good intentions is paved; + And I know my desires are noble, + But my deeds might brand me depraved. + It's the warped grain in our nature, + And St. Paul has written it true: + "The good that I would I do not; + But the evil I would not I do." + + I've met few men who are monsters + When I came to know them inside; + Yet their bearing and dealings external + Are crusted with cruelty, pride, + Scorn, selfishness, envy, indifference, + Greed--why the long list pursue? + The good that they would they do not; + But the evil they would not they do. + + Intentions may still leave us beast-like; + With unchangeable purpose we're men. + We must drive the nail home--and then clinch it + Or storms shake it loose again. + In things of great import, in trifles, + We our recreant souls must subdue + Till the evil we would not we do not + And the good that we would we do. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +PHILOSOPHY FOR CROAKERS + + +Many people seem to get pleasure in seeing all the bad there is, and in +making everything about them gloomy. They are like the old woman who on +being asked how her health was, replied: "Thank the Lord, I'm poorly." + + + Some folks git a heap o' pleasure + Out o' lookin' glum; + Hoard their cares like it was treasure-- + Fear they won't have some. + Wear black border on their spirit; + Hang their hopes with crape; + Future's gloomy and they fear it, + Sure there's no escape. + + Now there ain't no use of whining + Weightin' joy with lead; + There is silver in the linin' + Somewhere on ahead. + + Can't enjoy the sun to-day-- + It may rain to-morrow; + When a pain won't come their way, + Future pains they borrow. + If there's good news to be heard, + Ears are stuffed with cotton; + Evils dire are oft inferred; + Good is all forgotten. + + When upon a peel I stand, + Slippin' like a goner, + Luck, I trust, will shake my hand + Just around the corner. + + Keep a scarecrow in the yard, + Fierce old bulldog near 'em; + Chase off joy that's tryin' hard + To come in an' cheer 'em. + Wear their blinders big and strong, + Dodge each happy sight; + Like to keep their faces long; + Think the day is night. + + Now I've had my share of trouble; + Back been bent with ill; + Big load makes the joy seem double + When I mount the hill. + + Got the toothache in their soul; + Corns upon their feelin's; + Get their share but want the whole, + Say it's crooked dealings. + Natures steeped in indigo; + Got their joy-wires crossed; + Swear it's only weeds that grow; + Flowers always lost. + + Now it's best to sing a song + 'Stead o' sit and mourn; + Rose you'll find grows right along + Bigger than the thorn. + + Beat the frogs the way they croak; + See with goggles blue-- + Universe is cracked or broke, + 'Bout to split in two. + Think the world is full of sin, + Soon go up the spout; + Badness always movin' in, + Goodness movin' out. + + But I've found folks good and kind, + 'Cause I thought they would be; + Most men try, at least I find, + To be what they should be. + + +_Joseph Morris._ + + + + +THE FIGHTING FAILURE + + +"I'm not a rabid, preachy, pollyanna optimist. Neither am I a gloomy +grouch. I believe in a loving Divine Providence Who expects you to play +the Game to the limit, Who wants you to hold tight to His hand, and Who +compensates you for the material losses by giving you the ability to +retain your sense of values, and keep your spiritual sand out of the +bearings of your physical machine, if you'll trust and--'Keep Sweet, +Keep Cheerful, or else--Keep Still'"--_Everard Jack Appleton_. + + +He has come the way of the fighting men, and fought by the rules of the + Game, +And out of Life he has gathered--What? A living,--and little fame, +Ever and ever the Goal looms near,--seeming each time worth while; +But ever it proves a mirage fair--ever the grim gods smile. +And so, with lips hard set and white, he buries the hope that is gone,-- +His fight is lost--and he knows it is lost--and yet he is fighting on. + +Out of the smoke of the battle-line watching men win their way, +And, cheering with those who cheer success, he enters again the fray, +Licking the blood and the dust from his lips, wiping the sweat from his + eyes, +He does the work he is set to do--and "therein honor lies." +Brave they were, these men he cheered,--theirs is the winners' thrill; +_His_ fight is lost--and he knows it is lost--and yet he is fighting still. + +And those who won have rest and peace; and those who died have more; +But, weary and spent, he can not stop seeking the ultimate score; +Courage was theirs for a little time,--but what of the man who sees +That he must lose, yet will not beg mercy upon his knees? +Side by side with grim Defeat, he struggles at dusk or dawn,-- +His fight is lost--and he knows it is lost--and yet he is fighting on. + +Praise for the warriors who succeed, and tears for the vanquished dead; +The world will hold them close to her heart, wreathing each honored head, +But there in the ranks, soul-sick, time-tried, he battles against the odds, +_Sans_ hope, but true to his colors torn, the plaything of the gods! +Uncover when he goes by, at last! Held to his task by _will_ +The fight is lost--and he knows it is lost--and yet he is fighting still! + + +_Everard Jack Appleton._ + +From "The Quiet Courage." + + + + +DUTY + + +In a single sentence Emerson crystallizes the faith that nothing is +impossible to those whose guide is duty. His words, though spoken +primarily of youth, apply to the whole of human life. + + + So nigh is grandeur to our dust, + So near is God to man, + When duty whispers low, _Thou must_, + The youth replies, _I can_. + + +_Ralph Waldo Emerson._ + + + + +THE CALL OF THE UNBEATEN + + +P.T. Barnum had shrewdness, inventiveness, hair-trigger readiness in +acting or deciding, an eye for hidden possibilities, an instinct for +determining beforehand what would prove popular. All these qualities +helped him in his original and extraordinary career. But the quality he +valued most highly was the one he called "stick-to-it-iveness." This +completed the others. Without it the great showman could not have +succeeded at all. Nor did he think that any man who lacks it will make +much headway in life. + + + We know how rough the road will be, + How heavy here the load will be, + We know about the barricades that wait along the track; + But we have set our soul ahead + Upon a certain goal ahead + And nothing left from hell to sky shall ever turn us back. + + We know how brief all fame must be, + We know how crude the game must be, + We know how soon the cheering turns to jeering down the block; + But there's a deeper feeling here + That Fate can't scatter reeling here, + In knowing we have battled with the final ounce in stock. + + We sing of no wild glory now, + Emblazoning some story now + Of mighty charges down the field beyond some guarded pit; + But humbler tasks befalling us, + Set duties that are calling us, + Where nothing left from hell to sky shall ever make us quit. + + +_Grantland Rice._ + +From "The Sportlight." + + + + +POLONIUS'S ADVICE TO LAERTES + + +A father's advice to his son how to conduct himself in the world: Don't +tell all you think, or put into action thoughts out of harmony or +proportion with the occasion. Be friendly, but not common; don't dull +your palm by effusively shaking hands with every chance newcomer. Avoid +quarrels if you can, but if they are forced on you, give a good account +of yourself. Hear every man's censure (opinion), but express your own +ideas to few. Dress well, but not ostentatiously. Neither borrow nor +lend. And guarantee yourself against being false to others by setting up +the high moral principle of being true to yourself. + + + Give thy thoughts no tongue, + Nor any unproportion'd thought his act. + Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar; + The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, + Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel; + But do not dull thy palm with entertainment + Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware + Of entrance to a quarrel, but, being in, + Bear 't that th' opposed may beware of thee. + Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice; + Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. + Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, + But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy; + For the apparel oft proclaims the man. + + * * * * * + + Neither a borrower, nor a lender be; + For loan oft loses both itself and friend, + And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. + This above all: to thine own self be true, + And it must follow, as the night the day, + Thou canst not then be false to any man. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +HOW DO YOU TACKLE YOUR WORK? + + +It would be foolish to begin digging a tunnel through a mountain with a +mere pick and spade. We must assemble for the task great mechanical +contrivances. And so with our energies of will; a slight tool means a +slight achievement; a huge, aggressive engine, driving on at full blast, +means corresponding bigness of results. + + + How do you tackle your work each day? + Are you scared of the job you find? + Do you grapple the task that comes your way + With a confident, easy mind? + Do you stand right up to the work ahead + Or fearfully pause to view it? + Do you start to toil with a sense of dread + Or feel that you're going to do it? + + You can do as much as you think you can, + But you'll never accomplish more; + If you're afraid of yourself, young man, + There's little for you in store. + For failure comes from the inside first, + It's there if we only knew it, + And you can win, though you face the worst, + If you feel that you're going to do it. + + Success! It's found in the soul of you, + And not in the realm of luck! + The world will furnish the work to do, + But you must provide the pluck. + You can do whatever you think you can, + It's all in the way you view it. + It's all in the start you make, young man: + You must feel that you're going to do it. + + How do you tackle your work each day? + With confidence clear, or dread? + What to yourself do you stop and say + When a new task lies ahead? + What is the thought that is in your mind? + Is fear ever running through it? + If so, just tackle the next you find + By thinking you're going to do it. + + +_Edgar A. Guest._ + +From "A Heap o' Livin'." + + + + +MAN OR MANIKIN + + +The world does not always distinguish between appearance and true merit. +Pretence often gets the plaudits, but desert is above them--it has +rewards of its own. + + + No matter whence you came, from a palace or a ditch, + You're a man, man, man, if you square yourself to life; + And no matter what they say, hermit-poor or Midas-rich, + You are nothing but a husk if you sidestep strife. + + For it's do, do, do, with a purpose all your own, + That makes a man a man, whether born a serf or king; + And it's loaf, loaf, loaf, lolling on a bench or throne + That makes a being thewed to act a limp and useless thing! + + No matter what you do, miracles or fruitless deeds, + You're a man, man, man, if you do them with a will; + And no matter how you loaf, cursing wealth or mumbling creeds, + You are nothing but a noise, and its weight is nil. + + For it's be, be, be, champion of your heart and soul, + That makes a man a man, whether reared in silk or rags; + And it's talk, talk, talk, from a tattered shirt or stole, + That makes the image of a god a manikin that brags. + + +_Richard Butler Glaenzer._ + +From "Munsey's Magazine." + + + + +HAVING DONE AND DOING + +(ADAPTED FROM "TROILUS AND CRESSIDA") + + +A member of Parliament, having succeeded notably in his maiden effort at +speech-making, remained silent through the rest of his career lest he +should not duplicate his triumph. This course was stupid; in time the +address which had brought him fame became a theme for disparagement and +mockery. A man cannot rest upon his laurels, else he will soon lack the +laurels to rest on. If he has true ability, he must from time to time +show it, instead of asking us to recall what he did in the past. There +is a natural instinct which makes the whole world kin. It is distrust of +a mere reputation. It is a hankering to be shown. Unless the evidence to +set us right is forthcoming, we will praise dust which is gilded over +rather than gold which is dusty from disuse. + + + Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, + Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, + A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: + Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devoured + As fast as they are made, forgot as soon + As done: perseverance, dear my lord, + Keeps honor bright: to have done, is to hang + Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail + In monumental mockery. Take the instant way; + For honor travels in a strait so narrow + Where one but goes abreast: keep, then, the path; + For emulation hath a thousand sons + That one by one pursue: if you give way, + Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, + Like to an entered tide they all rush by + And leave you hindmost; + Or, like a gallant horse fallen in first rank, + Lie there for pavement to the abject rear, + O'errun and trampled on: then what they do in present, + Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours; + For time is like a fashionable host, + That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, + And with his arms outstretched, as he would fly, + Grasps in the comer: welcome ever smiles, + And farewell goes out sighing. O! let not virtue seek + Remuneration for the thing it was; for beauty, wit, + High birth, vigor of bone, desert in service, + Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all + To envious and calumniating time. + One touch of nature makes the whole world kin, + That all with one consent praise new-born gawds, + Though they are made and moulded of things past, + And give to dust that is a little gilt + More laud than gilt o'er-dusted. + The present eye praises the present object, + Since things in motion sooner catch the eye + Than what not stirs. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +FAITH + + +Faith is not a passive thing--mere believing or waiting. It is an active +thing--a positive striving and achievement, even if conditions be +untoward. + + + Faith is not merely praying + Upon your knees at night; + Faith is not merely straying + Through darkness to the light. + + Faith is not merely waiting + For glory that may be, + Faith is not merely hating + The sinful ecstasy. + + Faith is the brave endeavor + The splendid enterprise, + The strength to serve, whatever + Conditions may arise. + + +_S.E. Kiser._ + + + + +OPPORTUNITY + + +What is opportunity? To the brilliant mind of Senator Ingalls it is a +stupendous piece of luck. It comes once and once only to every human +being, wise or foolish, good or wicked. If it be not perceived on the +instant, it passes by forever. No longing for it, no effort, can bring +it back. Notice that this view is fatalistic; it makes opportunity an +external thing--one that enriches men or leaves their lives empty +without much regard to what they deserve. + + + Master of human destinies am I! + Fame, love, and fortune on my footsteps wait. + Cities and fields I walk; I penetrate + Deserts and seas remote, and passing by + Hovel and mart and palace--soon or late + I knock, unbidden, once at every gate! + If sleeping, wake--if feasting, rise before + I turn away. It is the hour of fate, + And they who follow me reach every state + Mortals desire, and conquer every foe + Save death; but those who doubt or hesitate, + Condemned to failure, penury, and woe, + Seek me in vain and uselessly implore. + I answer not, and I return no more! + + +_John James Ingalls._ + + + + +OPPORTUNITY + + +There is a tide in the affairs of men, +Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; +Omitted, all the voyage of their life +Is bound in shallows and in miseries. +On such a full sea are we now afloat; +And we must take the current when it serves, +Or lose our ventures. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +OPPORTUNITY + + +To the thought of the preceding poem we have here a direct answer. No +matter how a man may have failed in the past, the door of opportunity is +always open to him. He should not give way to useless regrets; he should +know that the future is within his control, that it will be what he +chooses to make it. + + + They do me wrong who say I come no more + When once I knock and fail to find you in; + For every day I stand outside your door, + And bid you wake, and rise to fight and win. + + Wail not for precious chances passed away, + Weep not for golden ages on the wane! + Each night I burn the records of the day,-- + At sunrise every soul is born again! + + Laugh like a boy at splendors that have sped, + To vanished joys be blind and deaf and dumb; + My judgments seal the dead past with its dead, + But never bind a moment yet to come. + + Though deep in mire, wring not your hands and weep; + I lend my arm to all who say "I can!" + No shame-faced outcast ever sank so deep, + But yet might rise and be again a man! + + Dost thou behold thy lost youth all aghast? + Dost reel from righteous Retribution's blow? + Then turn from blotted archives of the past, + And find the future's pages white as snow. + + Art thou a mourner? Rouse thee from thy spell; + Art thou a sinner? Sins may be forgiven; + Each morning gives thee wings to flee from hell, + Each night a star to guide thy feet to heaven. + + +_Walter Malone._ + + + + +OPPORTUNITY + + +In this poem yet another view of opportunity is presented. The recreant +or the dreamer complains that he has no real chance. He would succeed, +he says, if he had but the implements of success--money, influence, +social prestige, and the like. But success lies far less in implements +than in the use we make of them. What one man throws away as useless, +another man seizes as the best means of victory at hand. For every one +of us the materials for achievement are sufficient. The spirit that +prompts us is what ultimately counts. + + + This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream:-- + There spread a cloud of dust along a plain; + And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged + A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords + Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince's banner + Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes. + A craven hung along the battle's edge, + And thought, "Had I a sword of keener steel-- + That blue blade that the king's son bears,--but this + Blunt thing--!" he snapt and flung it from his hand, + And lowering crept away and left the field. + Then came the king's son, wounded, sore bestead, + And weaponless, and saw the broken sword, + Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand, + And ran and snatched it, and with battle-shout + Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down, + And saved a great cause that heroic day. + + +_Edward Rowland Sill._ + +From "Poems." + + + +[Illustration: JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY] + + + + +MY PHILOSOPHY + + +Though dogs persist in barking at the moon, the moon's business is not +to answer the dogs or to waste strength placating them, but simply to +shine. The man who strives or succeeds is sure to be criticized. Is he +therefore to abstain from all effort? We are responsible for our own +lives and cannot regulate them according to other people's ideas. "Whoso +would be a man," says Emerson, "must be a nonconformist." + + + I allus argy that a man + Who does about the best he can + Is plenty good enugh to suit + This lower mundane institute-- + No matter ef his daily walk + Is subject fer his neghbor's talk, + And critic-minds of ev'ry whim + Jest all git up and go fer him! + + * * * * * + + It's natchurl enugh, I guess, + When some gits more and some gits less, + Fer them-uns on the slimmest side + To claim it ain't a fare divide; + And I've knowed some to lay and wait, + And git up soon, and set up late, + To ketch some feller they could hate + For goin' at a faster gait. + + * * * * * + + My doctern is to lay aside + Contensions, and be satisfied: + Jest do your best, and praise er blame + That follers that, counts jest the same. + I've allus noticed grate success + Is mixed with troubles, more er less, + And it's the man who does the best + That gits more kicks than all the rest. + + +_James Whitcomb Riley._ + +From the Biographical Edition +Of the Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley. + + + + +ULYSSES + + +This volume consists chiefly of contemporary or very recent verse. But +it could not serve its full purpose without the presence, here and +there, of older poems--of "classics." These express a truth, a mood, or +a spirit that is universal, and they express it in words of noble +dignity and beauty. They are not always easy to understand; they are +crops we must patiently cultivate, not crops that volunteer. But they +wear well; they grow upon us; we come back to them again and again, and +still they are fresh, living, significant--not empty, meaningless, and +weather-worn, like a last year's crow's nest. + +Such a poem is _Ulysses_. It is shot through and through with the spirit +of strenuous and never-ceasing endeavor--a spirit manifest in a hero who +has every temptation to rest and enjoy. Ulysses is old. After ten long +years of warfare before Troy, after endless misfortunes on his homeward +voyage, after travels and experiences that have taken him everywhere and +shown him everything that men know and do, he has returned to his rude +native kingdom. He is reunited with his wife Penelope and his son +Telemachus. He is rich and famous. Yet he is unsatisfied. The task and +routine of governing a slow, materially minded people, though suited to +his son's temperament, are unsuited to his. He wants to wear out rather +than to rust out. He wants to discover what the world still holds. He +wants to drink life to the lees. The morning has passed, the long day +has waned, twilight and the darkness are at hand. But scant as are the +years left to him, he will use them in a last, incomparable quest. He +rallies his old comrades--tried men who always + + "With a frolic welcome took + The thunder and the sunshine"-- + +and asks them to brave with him once more the hazards and the hardships +of the life of vast; unsubdued enterprise. + + + It little profits that an idle king, + By this still hearth, among these barren crags, + Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole + Unequal laws unto a savage race, + That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me. + I cannot rest from travel; I will drink + Life to the lees. All times I have enjoy'd + Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those + That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when + Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades + Vext the dim sea. I am become a name; + For always roaming with a hungry heart + Much have I seen and known,--cities of men + And manners, climates, councils, governments, + Myself not least, but honor'd of them all,-- + And drunk delight of battle with my peers, + Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. + I am a part of all that I have met; + Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' + Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades + For ever and for ever when I move. + How dull it is to pause, to make an end, + To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use! + As tho' to breathe were life! Life piled on life + Were all too little, and of one to me + Little remains; but every hour is saved + From that eternal silence, something more, + A bringer of new things; and vile it were + For some three suns to store and hoard myself, + And this gray spirit yearning in desire + To follow knowledge like a sinking star, + Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. + This is my son, mine own Telemachus, + To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle,-- + Well-beloved of me, discerning to fulfil + This labor, by slow prudence to make mild + A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees + Subdue them to the useful and the good. + Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere + Of common duties, decent not to fail + In offices of tenderness, and pay + Meet adoration to my household gods, + When I am gone. He works his work, I mine. + There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail; + There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners, + Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me,-- + That ever with a frolic welcome took + The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed + Free hearts, free foreheads,--you and I are old; + Old age hath yet his honor and his toil. + Death closes all; but something ere the end, + Some work of noble note, may yet be done, + Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods. + The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks; + The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep + Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends. + 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. + Push off, and sitting well in order smite + The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds + To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths + Of all the western stars, until I die. + It may be that the gulfs will wash us down; + It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, + And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. + Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho' + We are not now that strength which in old days + Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,-- + One equal temper of heroic hearts, + Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will + To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. + + +_Alfred Tennyson._ + + + + +PREPAREDNESS + + + For all your days prepare, + And meet them ever alike: + When you are the anvil, bear-- + When you are the hammer, strike. + + +_Edwin Markham._ + +From "The Gates of Paradise, and Other Poems." + + + + +THE WISDOM OF FOLLY + + + "Jog on, jog on, the footpath way, + And merrily hent the stile-a: + A merry heart goes all the day, + Your sad tires in a mile-a." + +Shakespeare's lilting stanza conveys a great truth--the power of +cheerfulness to give impetus and endurance. The _a_ at the end of lines +is merely an addition in singing; the word _hent_ means take. + + + The cynics say that every rose + Is guarded by a thorn which grows + To spoil our posies; + But I no pleasure therefore lack; + I keep my hands behind my back + When smelling roses. + + Though outwardly a gloomy shroud + The inner half of every cloud + Is bright and shining: + I therefore turn my clouds about, + And always wear them inside out + To show the lining. + + My modus operandi this-- + To take no heed of what's amiss; + And not a bad one; + Because, as Shakespeare used to say, + A merry heart goes twice the way + That tires a sad one. + + +_Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler. +(The Honorable Mrs. Alfred Felkin.)_ + +From "Verses Wise and Otherwise." + + + + +SEE IT THROUGH + + +An American traveler in Italy stood watching a lumberman who, as the +logs floated down a swift mountain stream, jabbed his hook in an +occasional one and drew it carefully aside. "Why do you pick out those +few?" the traveler asked. "They all look alike." "But they are not +alike, seignior. The logs I let pass have grown on the side of a +mountain, where they have been protected all their lives. Their grain is +coarse; they are good only for lumber. But these logs, seignior, grew on +the top of the mountain. From the time they were sprouts and saplings +they were lashed and buffeted by the winds, and so they grew strong with +fine grain. We save them for choice work; they are not 'lumber,' +seignior." + + + When you're up against a trouble, + Meet it squarely, face to face; + Lift your chin and set your shoulders, + Plant your feet and take a brace. + When it's vain to try to dodge it, + Do the best that you can do; + You may fail, but you may conquer, + See it through! + + Black may be the clouds about you + And your future may seem grim, + But don't let your nerve desert you; + Keep yourself in fighting trim. + If the worse is bound to happen, + Spite of all that you can do, + Running from it will not save you, + See it through! + + Even hope may seem but futile, + When with troubles you're beset, + But remember you are facing + Just what other men have met. + You may fail, but fall still fighting; + Don't give up, whate'er you do; + Eyes front, head high to the finish. + See it through! + + +_Edgar A. Guest._ + +From "Just Folks." + + + + +DECEMBER 31 + + +If January 1 is an ideal time for renewed consecration, December 31 is +an ideal time for thankful reminiscence. The year has not brought us +everything we might have hoped, but neither has it involved us in +everything we might have feared. Many are the perils, the failures, the +miseries we have escaped, and life to us is still gracious and wholesome +and filled to the brim with satisfaction. + + + Best day of all the year, since I + May see thee pass and know + That if thou dost not leave me high + Thou hast not found me low, + And since, as I behold thee die, + Thou leavest me the right to say + That I to-morrow still may vie + With them that keep the upward way. + + Best day of all the year to me, + Since I may stand and gaze + Across the grayish past and see + So many crooked ways + That might have led to misery, + Or might have ended at Disgrace-- + Best day since thou dost leave me free + To look the future in the face. + + Best day of all days of the year, + That was so kind, so good, + Since thou dost leave me still the dear + Old faith in brotherhood-- + Best day since I, still striving here, + May view the past with small regret, + And, undisturbed by doubts or fear, + Seeks paths that are untrod as yet. + + +_S.E. Kiser._ + + + + +RING OUT, WILD BELLS + + +This great New Year's piece belongs almost as well to every day in the +year, since it expresses a social ideal of justice and happiness. + + + Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, + The flying cloud, the frosty light: + The year is dying in the night; + Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. + + Ring out the old, ring in the new, + Ring, happy bells, across the snow: + The year is going, let him go; + Ring out the false, ring in the true. + + Ring out the grief that saps the mind, + For those that here we see no more; + Ring out the feud of rich and poor, + Ring in redress to all mankind. + + Ring out a slowly dying cause, + And ancient forms of party strife; + Ring in the nobler modes of life, + With sweeter manners, purer laws. + + Ring out the want, the care, the sin, + The faithless coldness of the times; + Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, + But ring the fuller minstrel in. + + Ring out false pride in place and blood, + The civic slander and the spite; + Ring in the love of truth and right, + Ring in the common love of good. + + Ring out old shapes of foul disease; + Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; + Ring out the thousand wars of old, + Ring in the thousand years of peace. + + Ring in the valiant man and free, + The larger heart, the kindlier hand; + Ring out the darkness of the land, + Ring in the Christ that is to be. + + +_Alfred Tennyson._ + + + +[Illustration: HENRY VAN DYKE] + + + + +WORK + + +The dog that dropped his bone to snap at its reflection in the water +went dinnerless. So do we often lose the substance--the joy--of our work +by longing for tasks we think better fitted to our capabilities. + + + Let me but do my work from day to day, + In field or forest, at the desk or loom, + In roaring market-place or tranquil room; + Let me but find it in my heart to say, + When vagrant wishes beckon me astray, + "This is my work; my blessing, not my doom; + Of all who live, I am the one by whom + This work can best be done in the right way." + + Then shall I see it not too great, nor small + To suit my spirit and to prove my powers; + Then shall I cheerful greet the laboring hours, + And cheerful turn, when the long shadows fall + At eventide, to play and love and rest, + Because I know for me my work is best. + + +_Henry Van Dyke._ + +From "Collected Poems." + + + + +START WHERE YOU STAND + + +When a man who had been in the penitentiary applied to Henry Ford for +employment, he started to tell Mr. Ford his story. "Never mind," said +Mr. Ford, "I don't care about the past. Start where you stand!"--Author's +note. + + + Start where you stand and never mind the past, + The past won't help you in beginning new, + If you have left it all behind at last + Why, that's enough, you're done with it, you're through; + This is another chapter in the book, + This is another race that you have planned, + Don't give the vanished days a backward look, + Start where you stand. + + The world won't care about your old defeats + If you can start anew and win success, + The future is your time, and time is fleet + And there is much of work and strain and stress; + Forget the buried woes and dead despairs, + Here is a brand new trial right at hand, + The future is for him who does and dares, + Start where you stand. + + Old failures will not halt, old triumphs aid, + To-day's the thing, to-morrow soon will be; + Get in the fight and face it unafraid, + And leave the past to ancient history; + What has been, has been; yesterday is dead + And by it you are neither blessed nor banned, + Take courage, man, be brave and drive ahead, + Start where you stand. + + +_Berton Braley._ + +From "A Banjo at Armageddon." + + + + +A HOPEFUL BROTHER + + +A Cripple Creek miner remarked that he had hunted for gold for +twenty-five years. He was asked how much he had found. "None," he +replied, "but the prospects are good." + + + Ef you ask him, day or night, + When the worl' warn't runnin' right, + "Anything that's good in sight?" + This is allus what he'd say, + In his uncomplainin' way-- + "Well, I'm hopin'." + + When the winter days waz nigh, + An' the clouds froze in the sky, + Never sot him down to sigh, + But, still singin' on his way, + He'd stop long enough to say-- + "Well, I'm hopin'." + + Dyin', asked of him that night + (Sperrit waitin' fer its flight), + "Brother, air yer prospec's bright?" + An'--last words they heard him say, + In the ol', sweet, cheerful way-- + "Well, I'm hopin'." + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +"The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +A SONG OF THANKSGIVING + + +We should have grateful spirits, not merely for personal benefits, but +also for the right to sympathize, to understand, to help, to trust, to +struggle, to aspire. + + + Thank God I can rejoice + In human things--the multitude's glad voice, + The street's warm surge beneath the city light, + The rush of hurrying faces on my sight, + The million-celled emotion in the press + That would their human fellowship confess. + Thank Thee because I may my brother feed, + That Thou hast opened me unto his need, + Kept me from being callous, cold and blind, + Taught me the melody of being kind. + Thus, for my own and for my brother's sake-- + Thank Thee I am awake! + + Thank Thee that I can trust! + That though a thousand times I feel the thrust + Of faith betrayed, I still have faith in man, + Believe him pure and good since time began-- + Thy child forever, though he may forget + The perfect mould in which his soul was set. + Thank Thee that when love dies, fresh love springs up. + New wonders pour from Heaven's cup. + Young to my soul the ancient need returns, + Immortal in my heart the ardor burns; + My altar fires replenished from above-- + Thank Thee that I can love! + + Thank Thee that I can hear, + Finely and keenly with the inner ear, + Below the rush and clamor of a throng + The mighty music of the under-song. + And when the day has journeyed to its rest, + Lo, as I listen, from the amber west, + Where the great organ lifts its glowing spires, + There sounds the chanting of the unseen choirs. + Thank Thee for sight that shows the hidden flame + Beneath all breathing, throbbing things the same, + Thy Pulse the pattern of the thing to be.... + Thank Thee that I can see! + + Thank Thee that I can feel! + That though life's blade be terrible as steel, + My soul is stript and naked to the fang, + I crave the stab of beauty and the pang. + _To be alive, + To think, to yearn, to strive,_ + To suffer torture when the goal is wrong, + To be sent back and fashioned strong + Rejoicing in the lesson that was taught + By all the good the grim experience wrought; + At last, exulting, to _arrive_.... + Thank God I am alive! + + +_Angela Morgan._ + +From "The Hour Has Struck." + + + + +LOSE THE DAY LOITERING + + +Anything is hard to begin, whether it be taking a cold bath, writing a +letter, clearing up a misunderstanding, or falling to on the day's work. +Yet "a thing begun is half done." No matter how unpleasant a thing is to +do, begin it and immediately it becomes less unpleasant. Form the +excellent habit of making a start. + + + Lose the day loitering, 'twill be the same story + To-morrow, and the next more dilatory, + For indecision brings its own delays, + And days are lost lamenting o'er lost days. + Are you in earnest? Seize this very minute! + What you can do, or think you can, begin it! + Only engage, and then the mind grows heated; + Begin it, and the work will be completed. + + +_Johann Wolfgang von Goethe._ + + + + +PLAYING THE GAME + + +We don't like the man who whines that the cards were stacked against him +or that the umpire cheated. We admire the chap who, when he must take +his medicine, takes it cheerfully, bravely. To play the game steadily is +a merit, whether the game be a straight one or crooked. A thoroughbred, +even though bad, has more of our respect than the craven who cleaves to +the proprieties solely from fear to violate them. It has well been said: +"The mistakes which make us men are better than the accuracies that keep +us children." + + + Yes, he went an' stole our steers, + So, of course, he had to die; + I ain't sheddin' any tears, + But, when I cash in--say, I + Want to take it like that guy-- + Laughin', jokin', with the rest, + Not a whimper, not a cry, + Standin' up to meet the test + Till we swung him clear an' high, + With his face turned toward the west! + + Here's the way it looks to me; + Cattle thief's no thing to be, + But if you take up that trade, + Be the best one ever made; + If you've got a thing to do + Do it strong an' SEE IT THROUGH! + + That was him! He played the game, + Took his chances, bet his hand, + When at last the showdown came + An' he lost, he kept his sand; + Didn't weep an' didn't pray, + Didn't waver er repent, + Simply tossed his cards away, + Knowin' well just what it meant. + Never claimed the deck was stacked, + Never called the game a snide, + Acted like a man should act, + Took his medicine--an' died! + + So I say it here again, + What I think is true of men; + They should try to do what's right, + Fair an' square an' clean an' white, + But, whatever is their line, + Bad er good er foul er fine, + Let 'em go the Limit, play + Like a plunger, that's the way! + + +_Berton Braley._ + +From "Songs of the Workaday World." + + + +[Illustration: CHARLOTTE PERKINS GILMAN] + + + + +RESOLVE + + +There are some things we should all resolve to do. What are they? Any +one may make a list for himself. It would be interesting to compare it +with the one here given by the poet. + + + To keep my health! + To do my work! + To live! + To see to it I grow and gain and give! + Never to look behind me for an hour! + To wait in weakness, and to walk in power; + But always fronting onward to the light, + Always and always facing towards the right. + Robbed, starved, defeated, fallen, wide astray-- + On, with what strength I have! + Back to the way! + + +_Charlotte Perkins Gilman._ + +From "In This Our World." + + + + +WHEN NATURE WANTS A MAN + + +Only melting and hammering can shape and temper steel for fine use. Only +struggle and suffering can give a man the qualities that enable him to +render large service to humanity. Lincoln was born in a log cabin. He +split rails, and conned a few books by the firelight in the evening. He +became a backwoods lawyer with apparently no advantages or encouraging +prospects. But all the while he had his visions, which ever became +nobler; and the adversities he knew but gave him the deeper sympathy for +others and the wider and steadier outlook on human problems. Thus when +the supreme need arose, Lincoln was ready--harsh-visaged nature had done +its work of moulding and preparing a man. + + + When Nature wants to drill a man + And thrill a man, + And skill a man, + When Nature wants to mould a man + To play the noblest part; + When she yearns with all her heart + To create so great and bold a man + That all the world shall praise-- + Watch her method, watch her ways! + How she ruthlessly perfects + Whom she royally elects; + How she hammers him and hurts him + And with mighty blows converts him + Into trial shapes of clay which only Nature understands-- + While his tortured heart is crying and he lifts beseeching hands!-- + How she bends, but never breaks, + When his good she undertakes.... + How she uses whom she chooses + And with every purpose fuses him, + By every art induces him + To try his splendor out-- + Nature knows what she's about. + + When Nature wants to take a man + And shake a man + And wake a man; + When Nature wants to make a man + To do the Future's will; + When she tries with all her skill + And she yearns with all her soul + To create him large and whole.... + With what cunning she prepares him! + How she goads and never spares him, + How she whets him and she frets him + And in poverty begets him.... + How she often disappoints + Whom she sacredly anoints, + With what wisdom she will hide him, + Never minding what betide him + Though his genius sob with slighting and his pride may not forget! + Bids him struggle harder yet. + Makes him lonely + So that only + God's high messages shall reach him + So that she may surely teach him + What the Hierarchy planned. + Though he may not understand + Gives him passions to command-- + How remorselessly she spurs him, + With terrific ardor stirs him + When she poignantly prefers him! + + When Nature wants to name a man + And fame a man + And tame a man; + When Nature wants to shame a man + To do his heavenly best.... + When she tries the highest test + That her reckoning may bring-- + When she wants a god or king!-- + How she reins him and restrains him + So his body scarce contains him + While she fires him + And inspires him! + Keeps him yearning, ever burning for a tantalising goal-- + Lures and lacerates his soul. + Sets a challenge for his spirit, + Draws it higher when he's near it-- + Makes a jungle, that he clear it; + Makes a desert, that he fear it + And subdue it if he can-- + So doth Nature make a man. + Then, to test his spirit's wrath + Hurls a mountain in his path-- + Puts a bitter choice before him + And relentless stands o'er him. + "Climb, or perish!" so she says.... + Watch her purpose, watch her ways! + + Nature's plan is wondrous kind + Could we understand her mind ... + Fools are they who call her blind. + When his feet are torn and bleeding + Yet his spirit mounts unheeding, + All his higher powers speeding + Blazing newer paths and fine; + When the force that is divine + Leaps to challenge every failure and his ardor still is sweet + And love and hope are burning in the presence of defeat.... + Lo, the crisis! Lo, the shout + That must call the leader out. + When the people need salvation + Doth he come to lead the nation.... + Then doth Nature show her plan + When the world has found--a man! + + +_Angela Morgan._ + +From "Forward, March!" + + + + +ORDER AND THE BEES + +(FROM "HENRY V.") + + +We often wish that we might do some other man's work, occupy his social +or political station. But such an interchange is not easy. The world is +complex, and its adjustments have come from long years of experience. +Each man does well to perform the tasks for which nature and training +have fitted him. And instead of feeling envy toward other people, we +should rejoice that all labor, however diverse, is to one great end--it +makes life richer and fuller. + + + Therefore doth heaven divide + The state of man in divers functions, + Setting endeavor in continual motion; + To which is fixéd, as an aim or butt, + Obedience: for so work the honey-bees, + Creatures that by a rule in nature teach + The act of order to a peopled kingdom. + They have a king and officers of sorts; + Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, + Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, + Others, like soldiers, arméd in their stings, + Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds; + Which pillage they with merry march bring home + To the tent-royal of their emperor: + Who, busied in his majesty, surveys + The singing masons building roofs of gold, + The civil citizens kneading up the honey, + The poor mechanic porters crowding in + Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate, + The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum, + Delivering o'er to executors pale + The lazy yawning drone. I this infer, + That many things, having full reference + To one consent, may work contrariously. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +SELF-DEPENDENCE + + +One star does not ask another to adore it or amuse it; Mt. Shasta, +though it towers for thousands of feet above its neighbors, does not +repine that it is alone or that the adjacent peaks see much that it +misses under the clouds. Nature does not trouble itself about what the +rest of nature is doing. But man constantly worries about other +men--what they think of him, do to him, fail to emulate in him, have or +secure in comparison with him. He lacks nature's inward quietude. +Calmness and peace come by being self-contained. + + + Weary of myself, and sick of asking + What I am, and what I ought to be, + At this vessel's prow I stand, which bears me + Forwards, forwards, o'er the starlit sea. + + And a look of passionate desire + O'er the sea and to the stars I send: + "Ye who from my childhood up have calmed me, + Calm me, ah, compose me to the end! + + "Ah, once more," I cried, "ye stars, ye waters, + On my heart your mighty charm renew; + Still, still let me, as I gaze upon you, + Feel my soul becoming vast like you!" + + From the intense, clear, star-sown vault of heaven, + Over the lit sea's unquiet way, + In the rustling night-air came the answer: + "Wouldst thou BE as these are? LIVE as they. + + "Unaffrighted by the silence round them, + Undistracted by the sights they see, + These demand not that the things without them + Yield them love, amusement, sympathy. + + "And with joy the stars perform their shining, + And the sea its long, moon-silver'd roll; + For self-poised they live, nor pine with noting + All the fever of some differing soul. + + "Bounded by themselves, and unregardful + In what state God's other works may be, + In their own tasks all their powers pouring, + These attain the mighty life you see." + + O air-born voice! long since, severely clear, + A cry like thine in mine own heart I hear: + "Resolve to be thyself; and know that he + Who finds himself, loses his misery!" + + +_Matthew Arnold._ + + + + +A LITTLE PRAYER + + +We should strive to bring what happiness we can to others. More still, +we should strive to bring them no unhappiness. When we come to die, it +is, as George Eliot once said, not our kindness or our patience or our +generosity that we shall regret, but our intolerance and our harshness. + + + That I may not in blindness grope, + But that I may with vision clear + Know when to speak a word of hope + Or add a little wholesome cheer. + + That tempered winds may softly blow + Where little children, thinly clad, + Sit dreaming, when the flame is low, + Of comforts they have never had. + + That through the year which lies ahead + No heart shall ache, no cheek be wet, + For any word that I have said + Or profit I have tried to get. + + +_S.E. Kiser._ + + + + +A MAN'S A MAN FOR A' THAT + + +It is said that once at a laird's house Burns was placed at a second +table, and that this rankled in his breast and caused him to write his +poem on equality. He insists that rank, wealth, and external +distinctions are merely the stamp on the guinea; the man is the gold +itself. Snobbishness he abhors; poverty he confesses to without hanging +his head in the least; the pith of sense and the pride of worth he +declares superior to any dignity thrust upon a person from the outside. +In a final, prophetic mood he looks forward to the time when a democracy +of square dealing shall prevail, praise shall be reserved for merit, and +men the world over shall be to each other as brothers. In line 8 +gowd=gold; 9, hamely=homely, commonplace; 11, gie=give; 15, sae=so; 17, +birkie=fellow; 20, cuif=simpleton; 25, mak=make; 27, aboon=above; 28, +mauna=must not; fa'=acclaim; 36, gree=prize. + + + Is there, for honest poverty, + That hangs his head, and a' that? + The coward-slave, we pass him by, + We dare be poor for a' that! + For a' that, and a' that, + Our toils obscure, and a' that; + The rank is but the guinea stamp; + The man's the gowd for a' that. + + What tho' on hamely fare we dine, + Wear hodden-gray, and a' that; + Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, + A man's a man for a' that. + For a' that, and a' that, + Their tinsel show, and a' that; + The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor, + Is King o' men for a' that. + + Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord, + Wha struts, and stares, and a' that; + Tho' hundreds worship at his word, + He's but a cuif for a' that: + For a' that, and a' that. + His riband, star, and a' that, + The man of independent mind, + He looks and laughs at a' that. + + A prince can mak a belted knight, + A marquis, duke, and a' that; + But an honest man's aboon his might, + Guid faith he mauna fa' that! + For a' that, and a' that, + Their dignities, and a' that, + The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, + Are higher rank than a' that. + + Then let us pray that come it may, + As come it will for a' that; + That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, + May bear the gree, and a' that. + For a' that and a' that, + It's coming yet, for a' that, + That man to man the warld o'er + Shall brothers be for a' that. + + +_Robert Burns._ + + + + +LIFE AND DEATH + + + Life! I know not what thou art, + But know that thou and I must part; + And when, or how, or where we met + I own to me a secret yet. + + Life! We've been long together, + Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; + 'Tis hard to part when friends are dear; + Perhaps will cost a sigh, a tear; + Then steal away, give little warning, + Choose thine own time; + Say not "Good Night"--but in some brighter clime, + Bid me "Good Morning!" + + +_Anna Barbauld._ + + + + +LIFE AND DEATH + + +Many a man would die for wife and children, for faith, for country. But +would he live for them? That, often, is the more heroic course--and the +more sensible. A rich man was hiring a driver for his carriage. He asked +each applicant how close he could drive to a precipice without toppling +over. "One foot," "Six inches," "Three inches," ran the replies. But an +Irishman declared, "Faith, and I'd keep as far away from the place as I +could." "Consider yourself employed," was the rich man's comment. + + + So he died for his faith. That is fine-- + More than most of us do. + But stay, can you add to that line + That he lived for it, too? + + In death he bore witness at last + As a martyr to truth. + Did his life do the same in the past + From the days of his youth? + + It is easy to die. Men have died + For a wish or a whim-- + From bravado or passion or pride. + Was it harder for him? + + But to live: every day to live out + All the truth that he dreamt, + While his friends met his conduct with doubt, + And the world with contempt-- + + Was it thus that he plodded ahead, + Never turning aside? + Then we'll talk of the life that he led-- + Never mind how he died. + + +_Ernest H. Crosby_ + +From "Swords and Ploughshares." + + + + +ON BEING READY + + +At nightfall after bloody Antietam Lee's army, outnumbered and exhausted, +lay with the Potomac at its back. So serious was the situation that all +the subordinate officers advised retreat. But Lee, though too maimed to +attack, would not leave the field save of his own volition. "If +McClellan wants a battle," he declared, "he can have it." McClellan +hesitated, and through the whole of the next day kept his great army +idle. The effect upon the morale of the two forces, and the two +governments, can be imagined. + + + The man who is there with the wallop and punch + The one who is trained to the minute, + May well be around when the trouble begins, + But you seldom will find he is in it; + For they let him alone when they know he is there + For any set part in the ramble, + To pick out the one who is shrinking and soft + And not quite attuned to the scramble. + + The one who is fixed for whatever they start + Is rarely expected to prove it; + They pass him along for the next shot in sight + Where they take a full wind-up and groove it; + For who wants to pick on a bulldog or such + Where a quivering poodle is handy, + When he knows he can win with a kick or a brick + With no further trouble to bandy? + + +_Grantland Rice._ + +From "The Sportlight." + + + + +TWO AT A FIRESIDE + + + I built a chimney for a comrade old, + I did the service not for hope or hire-- + And then I traveled on in winter's cold, + Yet all the day I glowed before the fire. + + +_Edwin Markham._ + +From "The Man with the Hoe, and Other Poems." + + + + +TO-DAY + + +We often lose the happiness of to-day by brooding over the sorrows of +yesterday or fearing the troubles of to-morrow. This is exceedingly +foolish. There is always _some_ pleasure at hand; seize it, and at no +time will you be without pleasure. You cannot change the past, but your +spirit at this moment will in some measure shape your future. Live life, +therefore, in the present tense; do not miss the joys of to-day. + + + Sure, this world is full of trouble-- + I ain't said it ain't. + Lord! I've had enough, an' double, + Reason for complaint. + Rain an' storm have come to fret me, + Skies were often gray; + Thorns an' brambles have beset me + On the road--but, say, + Ain't it fine to-day? + + What's the use of always weepin', + Makin' trouble last? + What's the use of always keepin' + Thinkin' of the past? + Each must have his tribulation, + Water with his wine. + Life it ain't no celebration. + Trouble? I've had mine-- + But to-day is fine. + + It's to-day that I am livin', + Not a month ago, + Havin', losin', takin', givin', + As time wills it so. + Yesterday a cloud of sorrow + Fell across the way; + It may rain again to-morrow, + It may rain--but, say, + Ain't it fine to-day! + + +_Douglas Malloch._ + + + + +THE ARROW AND THE SONG + + +We can calculate with fair accuracy the number of miles an automobile +will go in an hour. We can gauge pretty closely the amount of +merchandise a given sum of money will buy. But a good deed or a kind +impulse is not measurable. Their influence works in devious ways and +lives on when perhaps we can see them no more. + + + I shout an arrow into the air, + It fell to earth, I knew not where; + For, so swiftly it flew, the sight + Could not follow it in its flight. + + I breathed a song into the air, + It fell to earth, I knew not where; + For who has sight so keen and strong, + That it can follow the flight of song? + + Long, long afterward, in an oak + I found the arrow, still unbroke; + And the song, from beginning to end, + I found again in the heart of a friend. + + +_Henry Wadsworth Longfellow._ + + + + +THE INNER LIGHT + + + "Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just, + And he but naked, though locked up in steel, + Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted," + +says Shakespeare. But not only does a clear conscience give power; it +also gives light. With it we could sit at the center of the earth and +yet enjoy the sunshine. Without it we live in a rayless prison. + + + He that has light within his own clear breast + May sit i' the center, and enjoy bright day: + But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts + Benighted walks under the midday sun; + Himself is his own dungeon. + + +_John Milton._ + + + + +THE THINGS THAT HAVEN'T BEEN DONE BEFORE + + +It is said that if you hold a stick in front of the foremost sheep in a +flock that files down a trail in the mountains, he will jump it--and +that every sheep thereafter will jump when he reaches the spot, even if +the stick be removed. So are many people mere unthinking imitators, +blind to facts and opportunities about them. Kentucky could not be lived +in by the white race till Daniel Boone built his cabin there. The air +was not part of the domain of humanity till the Wright brothers made +themselves birdmen. + + + The things that haven't been done before, + Those are the things to try; + Columbus dreamed of an unknown shore + At the rim of the far-flung sky, + And his heart was bold and his faith was strong + As he ventured in dangers new, + And he paid no heed to the jeering throng + Or the fears of the doubting crew. + + The many will follow the beaten track + With guideposts on the way, + They live and have lived for ages back + With a chart for every day. + Someone has told them it's safe to go + On the road he has traveled o'er, + And all that they ever strive to know + Are the things that were known before. + + A few strike out, without map or chart, + Where never a man has been, + From the beaten paths they draw apart + To see what no man has seen. + There are deeds they hunger alone to do; + Though battered and bruised and sore, + They blaze the path for the many, who + Do nothing not done before. + + The things that haven't been done before + Are the tasks worth while to-day; + Are you one of the flock that follows, or + Are you one that shall lead the way? + Are you one of the timid souls that quail + At the jeers of a doubting crew, + Or dare you, whether you win or fail, + Strike out for a goal that's new? + + +_Edgar A. Guest._ + +From "A Heap o' Livin'." + + + + +THE HAS-BEENS + + + I read the papers every day, and oft encounter tales which show + there's hope for every jay who in life's battle fails. I've + just been reading of a gent who joined the has-been ranks, at + fifty years without a cent, or credit at the banks. But + undismayed he buckled down, refusing to be beat, and captured + fortune and renown; he's now on Easy Street. Men say that + fellows down and out ne'er leave the rocky track, but facts + will show, beyond a doubt, that has-beens do come back. I know, + for I who write this rhyme, when forty-odd years old, was down + and out, without a dime, my whiskers full of mold. By black + disaster I was trounced until it jarred my spine; I was a + failure so pronounced I didn't need a sign. And after I had + soaked my coat, I said (at forty-three), "I'll see if I can + catch the goat that has escaped from me." I labored hard; I + strained my dome, to do my daily grind, until in triumph I came + home, my billy-goat behind. And any man who still has health + may with the winners stack, and have a chance at fame and + wealth--for has-beens do come back. + + +_Walt Mason._ + +From "Walt Mason, His Book." + + + + +WISHING + + +Horace Greeley said that no one need fear the editor who indulged in +diatribes against the prevalence of polygamy in Utah, but that +malefactors had better look out when an editor took up his pen against +abuses in his own city. We all tend to begin our reforms too far away +from home. The man who wishes improvement strongly enough to set to work +on himself is the man who will obtain results. + + + Do you wish the world were better? + Let me tell you what to do. + Set a watch upon your actions, + Keep them always straight and true. + Rid your mind of selfish motives, + Let your thoughts be clean and high. + You can make a little Eden + Of the sphere you occupy. + + Do you wish the world were wiser? + Well, suppose you make a start, + By accumulating wisdom + In the scrapbook of your heart; + Do not waste one page on folly; + Live to learn, and learn to live. + If you want to give men knowledge + You must get it, ere you give. + + Do you wish the world were happy? + Then remember day by day + Just to scatter seeds of kindness + As you pass along the way, + For the pleasures of the many + May be ofttimes traced to one. + As the hand that plants an acorn + Shelters armies from the sun. + + +_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._ + +From "Poems of Power." + + + + +AWARENESS + + +A man must keep a keen sense of the drift and significance of what he is +engaged in if he is to make much headway. Yet many human beings are so +sunk in the routine of their work that they fail to realize what it is +all for. A man who was tapping with a hammer the wheels of a railroad +train remarked that he had been at the job for twenty-seven years. "What +do you do when a wheel doesn't sound right?" a passenger inquired. The +man was taken aback. "I never found one that sounded that way," said he. + + + God--let me be aware. + Let me not stumble blindly down the ways, + Just getting somehow safely through the days, + Not even groping for another hand, + Not even wondering why it all was planned, + Eyes to the ground unseeking for the light, + Soul never aching for a wild-winged flight, + Please, keep me eager just to do my share. + God--let me be aware. + + God--let me be aware. + Stab my soul fiercely with others' pain, + Let me walk seeing horror and stain. + Let my hands, groping, find other hands. + Give me the heart that divines, understands. + Give me the courage, wounded, to fight. + Flood me with knowledge, drench me in light. + Please--keep me eager just to do my share. + God--let me be aware. + + +_Miriam Teichner._ + + + + +ONE OF THESE DAYS + + +The worst fault in a hound is to run counter--to follow the trail +backward, not forward. Is the fault less when men are guilty of it? +Behind us is much that we have found to be faithless, cruel, or +unpleasant. Why go back to that? Why not go forward to the things we +really desire? + + + Say! Let's forget it! Let's put it aside! + Life is so large and the world is so wide. + Days are so short and there's so much to do, + What if it was false--there's plenty that's true. + Say! Let's forget it! Let's brush it away + Now and forever, so what do you say? + All of the bitter words said may be praise + One of these days. + + Say! Let's forget it! Let's wipe off the slate, + Find something better to cherish than hate. + There's so much good in the world that we've had, + Let's strike a balance and cross off the bad. + Say! Let's forgive it, whatever it be, + Let's not be slaves when we ought to be free. + We shall be walking in sunshiny ways + One of these days. + + Say! Let's not mind it! Let's smile it away, + Bring not a withered rose from yesterday; + Flowers are so fresh from the wayside and wood, + Sorrows are blessings but half understood. + Say! Let's not mind it, however it seems, + Hope is so sweet and holds so many dreams; + All of the sere fields with blossoms shall blaze + One of these days. + + Say! Let's not take it so sorely to heart! + Hates may be friendships just drifted apart, + Failure be genius not quite understood, + Say! Let's get closer to somebody's side, + See what his dreams are and learn how he tried, + See if our scoldings won't give way to praise + One of these days. + + Say! Let's not wither! Let's branch out and rise + Out of the byways and nearer the skies. + Let's spread some shade that's refreshing and deep + Where some tired traveler may lie down and sleep. + Say! Let's not tarry! Let's do it right now; + So much to do if we just find out how! + We may not be here to help folks or praise + One of these days. + + +_James W. Foley._ + +From "The Voices of Song." + + + +[Illustration: JAMES WILLIAM FOLEY] + + + + +GOD + + +We often think people shallow, think them incapable of anything serious +or profound, because their work is humdrum and their speech trivial. +Such a judgment is unfair, since that part of our own life which shows +itself to others is superficial likewise, though we are conscious that +within us is much that it does not reveal. + + + I think about God. + Yet I talk of small matters. + Now isn't it odd + How my idle tongue chatters! + Of quarrelsome neighbors, + Fine weather and rain, + Indifferent labors, + Indifferent pain, + Some trivial style + Fashion shifts with a nod. + And yet all the while + I am thinking of God. + + +_Gamaliel Bradford._ + +From "Shadow Verses." + + + + +MY TRIUMPH + + +The poet, looking back upon the hopes he has cherished, perceives that +he has fallen far short of achieving them. The songs he has sung are +less sweet than those he has dreamed of singing; the wishes he has +wrought into facts are less noble than those that are yet unfulfilled. +But he looks forward to the time when all that he desires for humankind +shall yet come to pass. The praise will not be his; it will belong to +others. Still, he does not envy those who are destined to succeed where +he failed. Rather does he rejoice that through them his hopes for the +race will be realized. And he is happy that by longing for just such a +triumph he shares in it--he makes it _his_ triumph. + + + Let the thick curtain fall; + I better know than all + How little I have gained, + How vast the unattained. + + Not by the page word-painted + Let life be banned or sainted: + Deeper than written scroll + The colors of the soul. + + Sweeter than any sung + My songs that found no tongue + Nobler than any fact + My wish that failed to act. + + Others shall sing the song, + Others shall right the wrong,-- + Finish what I begin, + And all I fail of win. + + What matter, I or they? + Mine or another's day, + So the right word be said + And life the sweeter made? + + Hail to the coming singers! + Hail to the brave light-bringers! + Forward I reach and share + All that they sing and dare. + + The airs of heaven blow o'er me; + A glory shines before me + Of what mankind shall be,-- + Pure, generous, brave, and free. + + A dream of man and woman + Diviner but still human, + Solving the riddle old, + Shaping the Age of Gold! + + The love of God and neighbor; + An equal-handed labor; + The richer life, where beauty + Walks hand in hand with duty. + + Ring, bells in unreared steeples, + The joy of unborn peoples! + Sound, trumpets far off blown, + Your triumph is my own. + + Parcel and part of all, + I keep the festival, + Fore-reach the good to be, + And share the victory. + + I feel the earth move sunward, + I join the great march onward, + And take, by faith, while living, + My freehold of thanksgiving. + + +_John Green leaf Whittier._ + + + + +TO ALTHEA FROM PRISON + + +In the great Civil War in England between the Puritans and Charles the +First the author of this poem sacrificed everything in the royal cause. +That cause was defeated and Lovelace was imprisoned. In these stanzas he +makes the most of his gloomy situation and sings the joys of various +kinds of freedom. First is the freedom brought by love, when his +sweetheart speaks to him through the grate of the dungeon. Second is the +freedom brought by the recollection of good fellowship, when tried and +true comrades took their wine straight--"with no allaying Thames." Third +is the freedom brought by remembrance of the king for whom he was +suffering. Finally comes the passionate and heroic assertion that though +the body of a man may be confined, nevertheless his spirit can remain +free and chainless. + + + When Love with unconfinéd wings + Hovers within my gates, + And my divine Althea brings + To whisper at the grates; + When I lie tangled in her hair + And fetter'd to her eye, + The Gods that wanton in the air + Know no such liberty. + + When flowing cups run swiftly round + With no allaying Thames, + Our careless heads with roses bound, + Our hearts with loyal flames; + When thirsty grief in wine we steep, + When healths and draughts go free-- + Fishes that tipple in the deep + Know no such liberty. + + When (like committed linnets) I + With shriller throat shall sing + The sweetness, mercy, majesty + And glories of my King; + When I shall voice aloud how good + He is, how great should be, + Enlarged winds, that curl the flood, + Know no such liberty. + + Stone walls do not a prison make, + Nor iron bars a cage; + Minds innocent and quiet take + That for an hermitage; + If I have freedom in my love + And in my soul am free, + Angels alone, that soar above, + Enjoy such liberty. + + +_Richard Lovelace._ + + + + +GRIEF + + +Shakespeare says: "I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, +than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching." This is +especially true regarding grief or affliction. "Man was born unto +trouble, as the sparks fly upward," but we bid other people bear their +sorrows manfully; we should therefore bear ours with equal courage. + + + Upon this trouble shall I whet my life + As 'twere a dulling knife; + Bade I my friend be brave? + I shall still braver be. + No man shall say of me, + "Others he saved, himself he cannot save." + But swift and fair + As the Primeval word that smote the night-- + "Let there be light!" + Courage shall leap from me, a gallant sword + To rout the enemy and all his horde, + Cleaving a kingly pathway through despair. + + +_Angela Morgan._ + +From "Forward, March!" + + + + +THE RECTIFYING YEARS + + +Time brings the deeper understanding that clears up our misconceptions; +it shows us the error of our hates; it dispels our worries and our +fears; it allays the grief that seemed too poignant to be borne. + + + Yes, things are more or less amiss; + To-day it's that, to-morrow this; + Yet with so much that's out of whack, + Life does not wholly jump the track + Because, since matters move along, + No _one_ thing's always _staying_ wrong. + So heed not failures, losses, fears, + But trust the rectifying years. + + What we shall have's not what we've got; + Our pains don't linger in one spot-- + They skip about; the seesaw's end + That's up will mighty soon descend; + You've looked at bacon? Life's like that-- + A streak of lean, a streak of fat. + Change, like a sky that clouds, that clears, + Hangs o'er the rectifying years. + + Uneven things not leveled down + Are somehow simply got aroun'; + The sting is taken from offence; + The evil has its recompense; + The broken heart is knit again; + The baffled longing knows not pain; + Wrong fades and trouble disappears + Before the rectifying years. + + Then envy, hate towards man or class + Should from your sinful nature pass. + Though others hold a higher place + Or have more power or wealth or grace, + The best of them, be sure, cannot + Escape the common human lot; + So many smiles, so many tears + Come with the rectifying years. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +TO THOSE WHO FAIL + + +We too often praise the man who wins just because he wins; the plaudits +and laurels of victory are the unthinking crowd's means of estimating +success. But the vanquished may have fought more nobly than the victor; +he may have done his best against hopeless odds. As Addison makes Cato +say, + + "'Tis not in mortals to command success, + But we'll do more, Sempronius,--we'll deserve it." + + + "All honor to him who shall win the prize," + The world has cried for a thousand years; + But to him who tries, and who fails and dies, + I give great honor and glory and tears; + + Give glory and honor and pitiful tears + To all who fail in their deeds sublime; + Their ghosts are many in the van of years, + They were born with Time, in advance of Time. + + Oh, great is the hero who wins a name, + But greater many and many a time + Some pale-faced fellow who dies in shame, + And lets God finish the thoughts sublime. + + And great is the man with a sword undrawn, + And good is the man who refrains from wine; + But the man who fails and yet still fights on, + Lo, he is the twin-born brother of mine. + + +_Joaquin Miller._ + +From "Joaquin Miller's Complete Poems." + + + + +HELPING' OUT + + +"I always look out for Number One," was the favorite remark of a man who +thought he had found the great rule to success, but he had only stated +his own doctrine of selfishness, and his life was never very successful. +A man must be big to succeed, and selfishness is always cramping and +narrow. + + + Da's a lot of folks what preach all day + An' always pointing' out de way, + Dey say dat prayin' all de time + An' keepin' yo' heart all full of rhyme + Will lead yo' soul to heights above + Whah angels coo like a turtledove. + But I's des lookin' round, dat's me-- + I's trustin' lots in what I see; + It 'pears to me da's lots to do + Befo' we pass dat heavenly blue. + I believes in prayin', preachin' about, + But believe a lot mo' in helpin' out. + + I believes in 'ligin, it's mighty sweet, + But de kind dat gits in yo' hands and feet + An' makes you work when dey ain't no praise, + Nuthin' but a heart dat's all a-blaze. + If it rains or shines, dey's des de same-- + Say, bless you, honey, Sunshine's dey name; + Dey don't fuss round 'bout how much pay + But climbs up de trail, helpin' all de way. + De load is often twice der size, + And smilin' is der biggest prize. + Dey never gits dis awful gout + 'Cause dey's busy all de time in helpin' out. + + We had an old mule on Massa's place, + As fo' looks he'd certainly lose de race; + But der wa'n't a horse fo' miles around + Could pull mo' load or plow mo' ground. + An' when dat donkey brayed his best, + He seemed to know he'd licked de rest. + Dat bray of his was strong as wool-- + It always come at de hardest pull. + We need mo' mules with brains on guard + Dat knos de game of pullin' hard, + An' a heart dat's tender, true and stout, + Dat believes all day in helpin' out. + + We's all des human, des common clay, + Des needs a little help to make work play. + I'se read a lot of philosophy day an' night, + An' worked around a heap wid de law of right. + I'se seen de high an' mighty come an' go, + I'se seen de simple spirit come from below; + An' I'se seen a lot of principle most folks miss-- + I'se not a-stretchin' truth when I say dis: + "Keep a-smilin' an' a-lovin' an a-doin' all yo' can, + Fo' yo' loses all yo' trouble when yo' help yo' fellow man; + An' you gits on best yo'self, an' of this dey ain't no doubt, + When yo' practise de art of always helpin' out." + + +_William Judson Kibby._ + + + + +OPENING PARADISE + + +We appreciate even the common things of life if we are denied them. + + + See the wretch, that long has tost + On the thorny bed of Pain, + At length repair his vigor lost, + And breathe and walk again: + The meanest flow'r'et of the vale, + The simplest note that swells the gale, + The common Sun, the air, and skies, + To him are opening Paradise. + + +_Thomas Gray._ + + + + +TO THE MEN WHO LOSE + + +When Captain Scott's ill-fated band, after reaching the South Pole, was +struggling through the cold and storms back towards safety, the strength +of Evans, one of the men, became exhausted. He had done his best--vainly. +Now he did not wish to imperil his companions, already sorely tried. At +a halting-place, therefore, he left them and, staggering out into a +blizzard, perished alone. It was a failure, yes; but was it not also +magnificent success? + + + Here's to the men who lose! + What though their work be e'er so nobly planned, + And watched with zealous care, + No glorious halo crowns their efforts grand, + Contempt is failure's share. + + Here's to the men who lose! + If triumph's easy smile our struggles greet, + Courage is easy then; + The king is he who, after fierce defeat, + Can up and fight again. + + Here's to the men who lose! + The ready plaudits of a fawning world + Ring sweet in victor's ears; + The vanquished's banners never are unfurled-- + For them there sound no cheers. + + Here's to the men who lose! + The touchstone of true worth is not success; + There is a higher test-- + Though fate may darkly frown, onward to press, + And bravely do one's best. + + Here's to the men who lose! + It is the vanquished's praises that I sing, + And this is the toast I choose: + "A hard-fought failure is a noble thing; + Here's to the men who lose!" + + +_Anonymous._ + + + + +IT MAY BE + + +Many, many are the human struggles in which we can lend no aid. But if +we cannot help, at least we need not hinder. + + + It may be that you cannot stay + To lend a friendly hand to him + Who stumbles on the slippery way, + Pressed by conditions hard and grim; + It may be that you dare not heed + His call for help, because you lack + The strength to lift him, but you need + Not push him back. + + It may be that he has not won + The right to hope for your regard; + He may in folly have begun + The course that he has found so hard; + It may be that your fingers bleed, + That Fortune turns a bitter frown + Upon your efforts, but you need + Not kick him down. + + +_S.E. Kiser._ + + + + +LIFE + + +In life is necessarily much monotony, sameness. But our triumph may lie +in putting richness and meaning into routine that apparently lacks them. + + + Forenoon and afternoon and night,--Forenoon, + And afternoon, and night,--Forenoon, and--what! + The empty song repeats itself. No more? + Yea, that is Life: make this forenoon sublime, + This afternoon a psalm, this night a prayer, + And Time is conquered, and thy crown is won. + + +_Edward Rowland Sill._ + +From "Poems." + + + + +THE GRUMPY GUY + + +When students came, full of ambition, to the great scientist Agassiz, he +gave each a fish and told him to find out what he could about it. They +went to work and in a day or two were ready for their report. But +Agassiz didn't come round. To kill time they went to work again, +observed, dissected, conjectured, and when at the end of a fortnight +Agassiz finally appeared, they felt that their knowledge was really +exhaustive. The master's brief comment was that they had made a fair +beginning, and again he left. They then fell to in earnest and after +weeks and months of investigation declared that a fish was the most +fascinating of studies. If our interest in life fails, it is not from +material to work on. No two leaves are alike, not two human beings are +alike, and if we are discerning, the attraction of any one of them is +infinite. + + + The Grumpy Guy was feeling blue; the Grumpy Guy was glum; + The Grumpy Guy with baleful eye took Misery for a chum. + He hailed misfortunes as his pals, and murmured, "Let 'em come!" + + "Oh, what's the blooming use?" he yelped, his face an angry red, + "When everything's been thought before and everything's been said? + And what's a Grumpy Guy to do except to go to bed? + + "And where's the joy the poets sing, the merriment and fun? + How can one start a thing that's new when everything's begun?-- + When everything's been planned before and everything's been done?-- + + "When everything's been dreamed before and everything's been sought? + When everything that ever ran has, so to speak, been caught?-- + When every game's been played before and every battle fought?" + + I started him at solitaire, a fooling, piffling game. + He played it ninety-seven hours and failed to find it tame. + In all the times he dealt the cards no two games were the same. + + He never tumbled to its tricks nor mastered all its curves. + He grunted, "Well, this takes the cake, the pickles and preserves! + Its infinite variety is getting on my nerves." + + "Its infinite variety!" I scoffed. "Just fifty-two + Poor trifling bits of pasteboard!--their combinations few + Compared to what there is in man!--the poorest!--even you! + + "Variety! You'll never find in forty-seven decks + One tenth of the variety found in the gentler sex. + Card combinations are but frills to hang around their necks. + + "The sun won't rise to-morrow as it came to us to-day, + 'Twill be older, we'll be older, and to Time this debt we pay. + For nothing can repeat itself, for nothing knows the way." + + Then the Grumpy Guy was silent as a miser hoarding pelf. + He knew 'twas time to put his grouch away upon the shelf. + And so he did.--You see, I was just talking to myself! + + +_Griffith Alexander._ + +From "The Pittsburg Dispatch." + + + + +THE FIGHTER + + +If life were all easy, we should degenerate into weaklings--into human +mush. It is the fighting spirit that makes us strong. Nor do any of us +lack for a chance to exercise this spirit. Struggle is everywhere; as +Kearny said at Fair Oaks, "There is lovely fighting along the whole +line." + + + I fight a battle every day + Against discouragement and fear; + Some foe stands always in my way, + The path ahead is never clear! + I must forever be on guard + Against the doubts that skulk along; + I get ahead by fighting hard, + But fighting keeps my spirit strong. + + I hear the croakings of Despair, + The dark predictions of the weak; + I find myself pursued by Care, + No matter what the end I seek; + My victories are small and few, + It matters not how hard I strive; + Each day the fight begins anew, + But fighting keeps my hopes alive. + + My dreams are spoiled by circumstance, + My plans are wrecked by Fate or Luck; + Some hour, perhaps, will bring my chance, + But that great hour has never struck; + My progress has been slow and hard, + I've had to climb and crawl and swim, + Fighting for every stubborn yard, + But I have kept in fighting trim. + + I have to fight my doubts away, + And be on guard against my fears; + The feeble croaking of Dismay + Has been familiar through the years; + My dearest plans keep going wrong, + Events combine to thwart my will, + But fighting keeps my spirit strong, + And I am undefeated still! + + +_S.E. Kiser._ + +From "The New York American." + + + +[Illustration: SAMUEL ELLSWORTH KISER] + + + + +TO YOUTH AFTER PAIN + + +Since pain is the lot of all, we cannot hope to escape it. Since only +through pain can we come into true and helpful sympathy with men, we +should not wish to escape it. + + + What if this year has given + Grief that some year must bring, + What if it hurt your joyous youth, + Crippled your laughter's wing? + You always knew it was coming, + Coming to all, to you, + They always said there was suffering-- + Now it is done, come through. + + Even if you have blundered, + Even if you have sinned, + Still is the steadfast arch of the sky + And the healing veil of the wind.... + And after only a little, + A little of hurt and pain, + You shall have the web of your own old dreams + Wrapping your heart again. + + Only your heart can pity + Now, where it laughed and passed, + Now you can bend to comfort men, + One with them all at last, + You shall have back your laughter, + You shall have back your song, + Only the world is your brother now, + Only your soul is strong! + + +_Margaret Widdemer._ + +From "The Old Road to Paradise." + + + + +CAN'T + + +A great, achieving soul will not clog itself with a cowardly thought or +a cowardly watchword. Cardinal Richelieu in Bulwer-Lytton's play +declares: + + "In the lexicon of youth, which fate reserves + For a bright manhood, there is no such word + As 'fail.'" + +"Impossible," Napoleon is quoted as saying, "is a word found only in the +dictionary of fools." + + + _Can't_ is the worst word that's written or spoken; + Doing more harm here than slander and lies; + On it is many a strong spirit broken, + And with it many a good purpose dies. + It springs from the lips of the thoughtless each morning + And robs us of courage we need through the day: + It rings in our ears like a timely-sent warning + And laughs when we falter and fall by the way. + + _Can't_ is the father of feeble endeavor, + The parent of terror and half-hearted work; + It weakens the efforts of artisans clever, + And makes of the toiler an indolent shirk. + It poisons the soul of the man with a vision, + It stifles in infancy many a plan; + It greets honest toiling with open derision + And mocks at the hopes and the dreams of a man. + + _Can't_ is a word none should speak without blushing; + To utter it should be a symbol of shame; + Ambition and courage it daily is crushing; + It blights a man's purpose and shortens his aim. + Despise it with all of your hatred of error; + Refuse it the lodgment it seeks in your brain; + Arm against it as a creature of terror, + And all that you dream of you some day shall gain. + + _Can't_ is the word that is foe to ambition, + An enemy ambushed to shatter your will; + Its prey is forever the man with a mission + And bows but to courage and patience and skill. + Hate it, with hatred that's deep and undying, + For once it is welcomed 'twill break any man; + Whatever the goal you are seeking, keep trying + And answer this demon by saying: "I _can_." + + +_Edgar A. Guest._ + +From "A Heap o' Livin'." + + + + +THE STRUGGLE + + +We all dream of being St. Georges and fighting dragons amid glamor and +glory and the applause of the world. But our real fights are mostly +commonplace, routine battles, where no great victory is ours at the end +of the day. To persist in them requires quiet strength and unfaltering +courage. + + + Did you ever want to take your two bare hands, + And choke out of the world your big success? + Beat, torn fists bleeding, pathways rugged, grand, + By sheer brute strength and bigness, nothing less? + So at the last, triumphant, battered, strong, + You might gaze down on what you choked and beat, + And say, "Ah, world, you've wrought to do me wrong; + And thus have I accepted my defeat." + + Have you ever dreamed of virile deeds, and vast, + And then come back from dreams with wobbly knees, + To find your way (the braver vision past), + By picking meekly at typewriter keys; + By bending o'er a ledger, day by day, + By some machine-like drudging? No great woe + To grapple with. Slow, painful is the way, + And still, the bravest fight and conquer so. + + +_Miriam Teichner._ + + + + +HOLD FAST + + +A football coach who told his players that their rivals were too strong +for them would be seeking a new position the next year. If the opposing +team is formidable, he says so; if his men have their work cut out for +them, he admits it; but he mentions these things as incitements to +effort. Merely saying of victory that it can be won is among the surest +ways of winning it. + + + When you're nearly drowned in trouble, and the world is dark as ink; + When you feel yourself a-sinking 'neath the strain, + And you think, "I've got to holler 'Help!'" just take another breath + And pretend you've lost your voice--and can't complain! + (That's the idea!) + Pretend you've lost your voice and can't complain! + + When the future glowers at you like a threatening thunder cloud, + Just grit your teeth and bend your head and say: + "It's dark and disagreeable and I can't help feeling blue, + But there's coming sure as fate a brighter day!" + (Say it slowly!) + "But there's coming sure as fate, a brighter day!" + + You have bluffed your way through ticklish situations; that I know. + You are looking back on troubles past and gone; + Now, turn the tables, and as you have fought and won before, + Just BLUFF YOURSELF to keep on holding on! + (Try it once.) + Just bluff YOURSELF to keep on--holding on. + + Don't worry if the roseate hues of life are faded out, + Bend low before the storm and wait awhile. + The pendulum is bound to swing again and you will find + That you have not forgotten how to smile. + (That's the truth!) + That you have not forgotten how to smile. + + +_Everard Jack Appleton._ + +From "The Quiet Courage." + + + +[Illustration: JOHN KENDRICK BANGS] + + + + +WILL + + +Warren Hastings resolved in his boyhood that he would be the owner of +the estate known as Daylesford. This was the one great purpose that +unified his varied and far-reaching activities. Admire him or not, we +must at least praise his pluck in holding to his purpose--a purpose he +ultimately attained. + + + You will be what you will to be; + Let failure find its false content + In that poor word "environment," + But spirit scorns it, and is free. + + It masters time, it conquers space, + It cowes that boastful trickster Chance, + And bids the tyrant Circumstance + Uncrown and fill a servant's place. + + The human Will, that force unseen, + The offspring of a deathless Soul, + Can hew the way to any goal, + Though walls of granite intervene. + + Be not impatient in delay, + But wait as one who understands; + When spirit rises and commands + The gods are ready to obey. + + The river seeking for the sea + Confronts the dam and precipice, + Yet knows it cannot fail or miss; + _You will be what you will to be!_ + + +_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._ + +From "Poems of Power." + + + + +THE GAME + + +Lessing said that if God should come to him with truth in one hand and +the never-ending pursuit of truth in the other, and should offer him his +choice, he would humbly and reverently take the pursuit of truth. +Perhaps it is best that finite beings should not attain infinite +success. But however remote that for which they seek or strive, they may +by their diligence and generosity make the very effort to secure it +noble. In doing this they earn, as Pope tells us, a truer commendation +than success itself could bring them. "Act well thy part; there all the +honor lies." + + + Let's play it out--this little game called Life, + Where we are listed for so brief a spell; + Not just to win, amid the tumult rife, + Or where acclaim and gay applauses swell; + Nor just to conquer where some one must lose, + Or reach the goal whatever be the cost; + For there are other, better ways to choose, + Though in the end the battle may be lost. + + Let's play it out as if it were a sport + Wherein the game is better than the goal, + And never mind the detailed "score's" report + Of errors made, if each with dauntless soul + But stick it out until the day is done, + Not wasting fairness for success or fame, + So when the battle has been lost or won, + The world at least can say: "He played the game." + + Let's play it out--this little game called Work, + Or War or Love or what part each may draw; + Play like a man who scorns to quit or shirk + Because the break may carry some deep flaw; + Nor simply holding that the goal is all + That keeps the player in the contest staying; + But stick it out from curtain rise to fall, + As if the game itself were worth the playing. + + +_Grantland Rice._ + +From "The Sportlight." + + + + +COURAGE + + +The philosopher Kant held himself to his habits so precisely that people +set their watches by him as he took his daily walk. We may be equally +constant amid worldly vicissitudes, but only a man of true courage is. + + + 'Tis the front towards life that matters most-- + The tone, the point of view, + The constancy that in defeat + Remains untouched and true; + + For death in patriot fight may be + Less gallant than a smile, + And high endeavor, to the gods, + Seems in itself worth while! + + +_Florence Earle Coates._ + +From "Poems." + + + + +A GOOD NAME + + +We should respect the good name of other people, and should safeguard +our own by a high sense of honor. At the close of the Civil War a +representative of an insurance company offered Robert E. Lee the +presidency of the firm at a salary of $50,000 a year. Lee replied that +while he wished to earn his living, he doubted whether his services +would be worth so large a sum. "We don't want your services," the man +interrupted; "we want your name." "That," said Lee, quietly, "is not for +sale." He accepted, instead, the presidency of a college at $1500 a +year. + + + Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, + Is the immediate jewel of their souls: + Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; + 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; + But he that filches from me my good name + Robs me of that which not enriches him, + And makes me poor indeed. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +SWELLITIS + + +A certain employer of large numbers of men makes it a principle to +praise none of them, not because they are undeserving, and not because +he dislikes to commend, but because experience has taught him that +usually the praise goes to the head of the recipient, both impairing his +work and making it harder for others to associate with him. A good test +of a man is his way of taking commendation. He may, even while grateful, +be stirred to humility that he has not done better still, and may +resolve to accomplish more. Or imitating the frog who wished to look +like an ox, he may swell and swell until--figuratively speaking--he +bursts. + + + Somebody said he'd done it well, + And presto! his head began to swell; + Bigger and bigger the poor thing grew-- + A wonder it didn't split in two. + In size a balloon could scarcely match it; + He needed a fishing-pole to scratch it;--- + But six and a half was the size of his hat, + And it rattled around on his head at that! + + "Good work," somebody chanced to say, + And his chest swelled big as a load of hay. + About himself, like a rooster, he crowed; + Of his wonderful work he bragged and blowed + He marched around with a peacock strut; + Gigantic to him was the figure he cut;-- + But he wore a very small-sized suit, + And loosely it hung on him, to boot! + + HE was the chap who made things hum! + HE was the drumstick and the drum! + HE was the shirt bosom and the starch! + HE was the keystone in the arch! + HE was the axis of the earth! + Nothing existed before his birth! + But when he was off from work a + Nobody knew that he was away! + + This is a fact that is sad to tell: + It's the empty head that is bound to swell; + It's the light-weight fellow who soars to the skies + And bursts like a bubble before your eyes. + A big man is humbled by honest praise, + And tries to think of all the ways + To improve his work and do it well;-- + But a little man starts of himself to yell! + + +_Joseph Morris:_ + + + + +CARES + + +To those who are wearied, fretted, and worried there is no physician +like nature. When our nerves are frazzled and our sleep is unrefreshing, +we can find no better antidote to the clamorous grind and frenzy of the +city than the stillness and solitude of hills, streams, and tranquil +stars. That man lays up for himself resources of strength who now and +then exchanges the ledger for green leaves, the factory for wild +flowers, business for brook-croon and bird-song. + + + The little cares that fretted me, + I lost them yesterday + Among the fields above the sea, + Among the winds at play; + Among the lowing of the herds, + The rustling of the trees, + Among the singing of the birds, + The humming of the bees. + + The foolish fears of what may happen, + I cast them all away + Among the clover-scented grass, + Among the new-mown hay; + Among the husking of the corn + Where drowsy poppies nod, + Where ill thoughts die and good are born + Out in the fields with God. + + +_Elisabeth Barrett Browning._ + + + + +FAITH + + +Any one who has ridden across the continent on a train must marvel at +the faith and imagination of the engineers who constructed the road--the +topographical advantages seized, the grades made easy of ascent, the +curves and straight stretches planned, the tunnels so carefully +calculated that workmen beginning on opposite sides of a mountain met in +the middle--and all this visualized and thought out before the actual +work was begun. Faith has such foresight, such courage, whether it toils +actively or can merely bide its time. + + + The tree-top, high above the barren field, + Rising beyond the night's gray folds of mist, + Rests stirless where the upper air is sealed + To perfect silence, by the faint moon kissed. + But the low branches, drooping to the ground, + Sway to and fro, as sways funereal plume, + While from their restless depths low whispers sound: + "We fear, we fear the darkness and the gloom; + Dim forms beneath us pass and reappear, + And mournful tongues are menacing us here." + + Then from the topmost bough falls calm reply: + "Hush, hush, I see the coming of the morn; + Swiftly the silent night is passing by, + And in her bosom rosy Dawn is borne. + 'Tis but your own dim shadows that ye see, + 'Tis but your own low moans that trouble ye." + + So Life stands, with a twilight world around; + Faith turned serenely to the steadfast sky, + Still answering the heart that sweeps the ground + Sobbing in fear, and tossing restlessly-- + "Hush, hush! The Dawn breaks o'er the Eastern sea, + 'Tis but thine own dim shadow troubling thee." + + +_Edward Rowland Sill._ + +From "Poems." + + + + +PLAYING THE GAME + + +We all like the good sport--the man who plays fair and courteously and +with every ounce of his energy, even when the game is going against him. + + + Life is a game with a glorious prize, + If we can only play it right. + It is give and take, build and break, + And often it ends in a fight; + But he surely wins who honestly tries + (Regardless of wealth or fame), + He can never despair who plays it fair-- + How are you playing the game? + + Do you wilt and whine, if you fail to win + In the manner you think your due? + Do you sneer at the man in case that he can + And does, do better than you? + Do you take your rebuffs with a knowing grin? + Do you laugh tho' you pull up lame? + Does your faith hold true when the whole world's blue? + How are you playing the game? + + Get into the thick of it--wade in, boys! + Whatever your cherished goal; + Brace up your will till your pulses thrill, + And you dare--to your very soul! + Do something more than make a noise; + Let your purpose leap into flame + As you plunge with a cry, "I shall do or die," + Then you will be playing the game. + + +_Anonymous_. + + + + +WHAT DARK DAYS DO + + +A real man does not want all his barriers leveled. He of course welcomes +easy tasks, but he welcomes hard ones also. The difficult or unpleasant +thing puts him on his mettle, throws him on his own resources. It gives +him something of + + "The stern joy which warriors feel + In foemen worthy of their steel." + +Moreover as a foil or contrast it enables him to value more truly the +good things he constantly enjoys, perhaps without perceiving them. + + + I sorter like a gloomy day, + Th' kind that jest _won't_ smile; + It makes a feller hump hisself + T' make life seem wuth while. + When sun's a-shinin' an' th' sky + Is washed out bright an' gay, + It ain't no job to whistle--but + It is-- + When skies air gray! + + So gloomy days air good fer us, + They make us look about + To find our blessin's--make us count + The friends who never doubt, + Most any one kin smile and joke + And hold blue-devils back + When it is bright, but we must work + T' grin-- + When skies air black! + + That's why I sorter _like_ dark days, + That put it up to me + To keep th' gloom from soakin' in + My whole anatomy! + An' if they _never_ come along + My soul would surely rust-- + Th' dark days keeps my cheerfulness + From draggin' + In th' dust! + + +_Everard Jack Appleton._ + +From "The Quiet Courage." + + + + +GLADNESS + + +A coal miner does not need the sun's illumination. He carries his own +light. + + + The world has brought not anything + To make me glad to-day! + The swallow had a broken wing, + And after all my journeying + There was no water in the spring-- + My friend has said me nay. + But yet somehow I needs must sing + As on a luckier day. + + Dusk fails as gray as any tear, + There is no hope in sight! + But something in me seems so fair, + That like a star I needs must wear + A safety made of shining air + Between me and the night. + Such inner weavings do I wear + All fashioned of delight! + + I need not for these robes of mine + The loveliness of earth, + But happenings remote and fine + Like threads of dreams will blow and shine + In gossamer and crystalline, + And I was glad from birth. + So even while my eyes repine, + My heart is clothed in mirth. + + +_Anna Hempstead Branch._ + +From "The Shoes That Danced, and Other Poems." + + + + +IT WON'T STAY BLOWED + + +It is easier to fail than succeed. It is easier to drift downstream than +up. But just as pent steam finds an escape somewhere, so will the man +who persists break at one point or another through confining +circumstance. + + + To the sniffing pickaninny once his good old mammy said, + "Yo' lil' black nose am drippin' from de cold dat's in yo' head, + An' yo' sleeve am slick and shiny like de hillside when it snows. + Why doan' you pump de bellers from de inside ob yo' nose?" + "Ain't I been," the child replied to her, "a-doin' ob jes' dat + Twel I's got a turble empty feel right whur I wears muh hat? + De traffic soht o' nacherly keeps gittin' in de road. + I blow muh nose a-plenty, but + it + won't + stay + blowed. + + "What's de use ob raisin' chickens ef dey won't stay riz? + What's de use ob freezin' sherbet ef it won't stay friz? + What's de use ob payin' debts off ef dey's gwine stay owed? + What's de use ob blowin' noses ef dey won't stay blowed?" + + This old world is sometimes jealous of the chap who means to rise; + It sneers at what he's doing or it bats him 'twixt the eyes; + It trips him when he's careless, and it makes his way so hard + What's left of him is sinew, not a walking tub of lard; + But it's only wasting effort, for by George, the guy keeps on + When his hopes have crumbled round him and you'd think his faith was gone, + Till the world at last knocks under and it passes him a crown: + Once, twice, thrice it has upset him, but + he + won't + stay + down. + + What cares he when out he's flattened by the cruel blow it deals? + He has rubber in his shoulders and a mainspring in his heels. + Let the world uncork its buffets till he's bruised from toe to crown; + Let it thump him, bump him, dump him, but he won't stay down. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +THE RAINBOW + + +Our lives are not a hodge-podge of separate experiences, though they +sometimes seem so. They are held together by simple things which we +behold again and again with the same emotions. Thus the man is what the +boy has been; the tree is inclined in the precise direction the twig was +bent. + + + My heart leaps up when I behold + A rainbow in the sky: + So was it when my life began; + So is it now I am a man; + So be it when I shall grow old, + Or let me die! + The Child is father of the Man; + And I could wish my days to be + Bound each to each by natural piety. + + +_William Wordsworth._ + + + + +THE FIRM OF GRIN AND BARRETT + + +It has been said that when disaster overtakes us, we can do one of two +things--we can grin and bear it, or we needn't grin. The spirit that +keeps a smile on our faces when our burden is heaviest is the spirit +that will win in the long run. Many men know how to take success +quietly. The real test of a man is he way he takes failure. + + + No financial throe volcanic + Ever yet was known to scare it; + Never yet was any panic + Scared the firm of Grin and Barrett. + From the flurry and the fluster, + From the ruin and the crashes, + They arise in brighter lustre, + Like the phoenix from his ashes. + When the banks and corporations + Quake with fear, they do not share it; + Smiling through all perturbations + Goes the firm of Grin and Barrett. + Grin and Barrett, + Who can scare it? + Scare the firm of Grin and Barrett? + + When the tide-sweep of reverses + Smites them, firm they stand and dare it + Without wailings, tears, or curses, + This stout firm of Grin and Barrett. + Even should their house go under + In the flood and inundation, + Calm they stand amid the thunder + Without noise or demonstration. + And, when sackcloth is the fashion, + With a patient smile they wear it, + Without petulance or passion, + This old firm of Grin and Barrett. + Grin and Barrett, + Who can scare it? + Scare the firm of Grin and Barrett? + + When the other firms show dizziness, + Here's a house that does not share it. + Wouldn't you like to join the business? + Join the firm of Grin and Barrett? + Give your strength that does not murmur, + And your nerve that does not falter, + And you've joined a house that's firmer + Than the old rock of Gibraltar. + They have won a good prosperity; + Why not join the firm and share it? + Step, young fellow, with celerity; + Join the firm of Grin and Barrett. + Grin and Barrett, + Who can scare it? + Scare the firm of Grin and Barrett? + + +_Sam Walter Foss._ + +From "Songs of the Average Man." + + + +[Illustration: SAM WALTER FOSS] + + + + +CHALLENGE + + +Napoleon is reported to have complained of the English that they didn't +have sense enough to know when they were beaten. Even if defeat is +unmistakable, it need not be final. A battle may be lost, but the +campaign won; a campaign lost, but the war won. + + + Life, I challenge you to try me, + Doom me to unending pain; + Stay my hand, becloud my vision, + Break my heart and then--again. + + Shatter every dream I've cherished, + Fill my heart with ruthless fear; + Follow every smile that cheers me + With a bitter, blinding tear. + + Thus I dare you; you can try me, + Seek to make me cringe and moan, + Still my unbound soul defies you, + I'll withstand you--and, alone! + + +_Jean Nette._ + + + + +YOUR MISSION + + +One of the most often-heard of sentences is "I don't know what I'm to do +in the world." Yet very few people are ever for a moment out of +something to do, especially if they do not insist on climbing to the top +of the pole and waving the flag, but are willing to steady the pole +while somebody else climbs. + + + If you cannot on the ocean + Sail among the swiftest fleet, + Rocking on the highest billows, + Laughing at the storms you meet; + You can stand among the sailors, + Anchored yet within the bay, + You can lend a hand to help them + As they launch their boats away. + + If you are too weak to journey + Up the mountain, steep and high, + You can stand within the valley + While the multitudes go by; + You can chant in happy measure + As they slowly pass along-- + Though they may forget the singer, + They will not forget the song. + + * * * * * + + If you cannot in the harvest + Garner up the richest sheaves, + Many a grain, both ripe and golden, + Oft the careless reaper leaves; + Go and glean among the briars + Growing rank against the wall, + For it may be that their shadow + Hides the heaviest grain of all. + + If you cannot in the conflict + Prove yourself a soldier true; + If, where fire and smoke are thickest, + There's no work for you to do; + When the battle field is silent, + You can go with careful tread; + You can bear away the wounded, + You can cover up the dead. + + Do not then stand idly waiting + For some greater work to do; + Fortune is a lazy goddess, + She will never come to you; + Go and toil in any vineyard, + Do not fear to do and dare. + If you want a field of labor + You can find it anywhere. + + +_Ellen M.H. Gates._ + + + + +VICTORY + + +To fail is not a disgrace; the disgrace lies in not trying. In his old +age Sir Walter Scott found that a publishing firm he was connected with +was heavily in debt. He refused to take advantage of the bankruptcy law, +and sat down with his pen to make good the deficit. Though he wore out +his life in the struggle and did not live to see the debt entirely +liquidated, he died an honored and honorable man. + + + I call no fight a losing fight + If, fighting, I have gained some straight new strength; + If, fighting, I turned ever toward the light, + All unallied with forces of the night; + If, beaten, quivering, I could say at length: + "I did no deed that needs to be unnamed; + I fought--and lost--and I am unashamed." + + +_Miriam Teichner._ + + + + +TIMES GO BY TURNS + + +One of the greatest blessings in life is alteration. The ins become +outs, the outs ins; the ups become downs, the downs ups; and so on--and +it is better so. We must not get too highly elated at success, for life +is not all success. We must not grow too downcast from failure, for life +is not all failure. + + + The lopped tree in time may grow again, + Most naked plants renew both fruit and flower; + The sorriest wight may find release of pain, + The driest soil suck in some moistening shower; + Time goes by turns, and chances change by course, + From foul to fair, from better hap to worse. + + The sea of Fortune doth not ever flow; + She draws her favors to the lowest ebb; + Her tides have equal times to come and go; + Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web; + No joy so great but runneth to an end, + No hap so hard but may in fine amend. + + Not always fall of leaf, nor ever Spring; + Not endless night, yet not eternal day; + The saddest birds a season find to sing; + The roughest storm a calm may soon allay. + Thus, with succeeding turns God tempereth all, + That man may hope to rise, yet fear to fall. + + A chance may win that by mischance was lost; + That net that holds no great takes little fish; + In some things all, in all things none are crost; + Few all they need, but none have all they wish. + Unmingled joys here to no man befall; + Who least, hath some; who most, hath never all. + + +_Robert Southwell._ + + + + +TO-DAY + + +The past did not behold to-day; the future shall not. We must use it now +if it is to be of any benefit to mankind. + + + So here hath been dawning + Another blue day; + Think, wilt thou let it + Slip useless away? + + Out of Eternity + This new day is born; + Into Eternity, + At night will return. + + Behold it aforetime + No eye ever did; + So soon it for ever + From all eyes is hid. + + Here hath been dawning + Another blue day; + Think, wilt thou let it + Slip useless away? + + +_Thomas Carlyle._ + + + + +UNAFRAID + + + I have no fear. What is in store for me + Shall find me ready for it, undismayed. + God grant my only cowardice may be + Afraid--to be afraid! + + +_Everard Jack Appleton._ + +From "The Quiet Courage." + + + + +BORROWED FEATHERS + + +Many good, attractive people spoil the merits they have by trying to be +something bigger or showier. It is always best to be one's self. + + + A rooster one morning was preening his feathers + That glistened so bright in the sun; + He admired the tints of the various colors + As he laid them in place one by one. + Now as roosters go he was a fine bird, + And he should have been satisfied; + But suddenly there as he marched along, + Some peacock feathers he spied. + They had beautiful spots and their colors were gay-- + He wished that his own could be green; + He dropped his tail, tried to hide it away; + Was completely ashamed to be seen. + + Then his foolish mind hatched up a scheme-- + A peacock yet he could be; + So he hopped behind a bush to undress + Where the other fowls could not see. + He caught his own tail between his bill, + And pulled every feather out; + And into the holes stuck the peacock plumes; + Then proudly strutted about. + The other fowls rushed to see the queer sight; + And the peacocks came when they heard; + They could not agree just what he was, + But pronounced him a funny bird. + + Then the chickens were angry that one of their kind + Should try to be a peacock; + And the peacocks were mad that one with their tail + Should belong to a common fowl flock. + So the chickens beset him most cruelly behind, + And yanked his whole tail out together; + The peacocks attacked him madly before, + And pulled out each chicken feather. + And when he stood stripped clean down to the skin, + A horrible thing to the rest, + He learned this sad lesson when it was too late-- + As his own simple self he was best. + + +_Joseph Morris._ + + + + +KEEP ON KEEPIN' ON + + +The author of these homely stanzas has caught perfectly the spirit which +succeeds in the rough-and-tumble of actual life. + + + If the day looks kinder gloomy + And your chances kinder slim, + If the situation's puzzlin' + And the prospect's awful grim, + If perplexities keep pressin' + Till hope is nearly gone, + Just bristle up and grit your teeth + And keep on keepin' on. + + Frettin' never wins a fight + And fumin' never pays; + There ain't no use in broodin' + In these pessimistic ways; + Smile just kinder cheerfully + Though hope is nearly gone, + And bristle up and grit your teeth + And keep on keepin' on. + + There ain't no use in growlin' + And grumblin' all the time, + When music's ringin' everywhere + And everything's a rhyme. + Just keep on smilin' cheerfully + If hope is nearly gone, + And bristle up and grit your teeth + And keep on keepin' on. + + +_Anonymous._ + + + + +THE DISAPPOINTED + + +Those who have striven nobly and failed deserve sympathy. Sometimes they +deserve also praise unreserved, in that they have refused to do +something ignoble which would have led to what the world calls success. +They have lived the idea which Macbeth merely proclaimed: + + "I dare do all that may become a man; + Who dares do more is none." + + + There are songs enough for the hero + Who dwells on the heights of fame; + I sing of the disappointed-- + For those who have missed their aim. + + I sing with a tearful cadence + For one who stands in the dark, + And knows that his last, best arrow + Has bounded back from the mark. + + I sing for the breathless runner, + The eager, anxious soul, + Who falls with his strength exhausted. + Almost in sight of the goal; + + For the hearts that break in silence, + With a sorrow all unknown, + For those who need companions, + Yet walk their ways alone. + + There are songs enough for the lovers + Who share love's tender pain, + I sing for the one whose passion + Is given all in vain. + + For those whose spirit comrades + Have missed them on their way, + I sing, with a heart o'erflowing, + This minor strain to-day. + + And I know the Solar system + Must somewhere keep in space + A prize for that spent runner + Who barely lost the race. + + For the plan would be imperfect + Unless it held some sphere + That paid for the toil and talent + And love that are wasted here. + + +_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._ + +From "Picked Poems." + + + + +LET ME LIVE OUT MY YEARS + + +We speak of the comforts and ease of old age, but our noblest selves do +not really desire them. We want to do more than exist. We want to be +alive to the very last. + + + Let me live out my years in heat of blood! + Let me die drunken with the dreamer's wine! + Let me not see this soul-house built of mud + Go toppling to the dust--a vacant shrine! + + Let me go quickly like a candle light + Snuffed out just at the heyday of its glow! + Give me high noon--and let it then be night! + Thus would I go. + + And grant that when I face the grisly Thing, + My song may triumph down the gray Perhaps! + Let me be as a tuneswept fiddlestring + That feels the Master Melody--and snaps. + + +_John G. Neihardt_ + +From "The Quest" (collected lyrics). + + + + +COLUMBUS + + +This poem pictures courage and high resolution. To the terrors of an +unknown sea and the mutinous dismay of the sailors Columbus has but two +things to oppose--his faith and his unflinching will. But these suffice, +as they always do. In the last four lines of the poem is a lesson for +our nation to-day. The seas upon which our ideals have launched us are +perilous and uncharted. In some ways our whole voyage of democracy seems +futile. Shall we turn back, or shall we, like Columbus, answer the +falterers in words that leap like a leaping sword; "Sail on, sail on"? + + + Behind him lay the gray Azores, + Behind the Gates of Hercules; + Before him not the ghost of shores: + Before him only shoreless seas. + The good mate said: "Now must we pray, + For lo! the very stars are gone. + Brave Adm'r'l, speak; what shall I say?" + "Why, say: 'Sail on! sail on! and on!'" + + "My men grow mutinous day by day; + My men grow ghastly wan and weak." + The stout mate thought of home; a spray + Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek. + "What shall I say, brave Adm'r'l, say, + If we sight naught but seas at dawn?" + "Why, you shall say at break of day: + 'Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!'" + + They sailed and sailed, as winds might blow; + Until at last the blanched mate said: + "Why, now not even God would know + Should I and all my men fall dead. + These very winds forget their way, + For God from these dread seas is gone. + Now speak, brave Adm'r'l; speak and say--" + He said: "Sail on! sail on! and on!" + + They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate: + "This mad sea shows his teeth to-night. + He curls his lip, he lies in wait, + With lifted teeth, as if to bite! + Brave Adm'r'l, say but one good word: + What shall we do when hope is gone?" + The words leapt like a leaping sword: + "Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!" + + Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck, + And peered through darkness. Ah, that night + Of all dark nights! And then a speck-- + It grew, a starlit flag unfurled! + It grew to be Time's burst of dawn. + He gained a world; he gave that world + Its grandest lesson: "On! sail on!" + + +_Joaquin Miller._ + +From "Joaquin Miller's Complete Poems." + + + + +PER ASPERA + +A motto has been made of the Latin phrase "per aspera ad astra," of +which the translation sometimes given is "through bolts and bars to the +stars." + + + Thank God, a man can grow! + He is not bound + With earthward gaze to creep along the ground: + Though his beginnings be but poor and low, + Thank God, a man can grow! + The fire upon his altars may burn dim, + The torch he lighted may in darkness fail, + And nothing to rekindle it avail,-- + Yet high beyond his dull horizon's rim, + Arcturus and the Pleiads beckon him. + + +_Florence Earle Coates._ + +From "Poems." + + + + +TIT FOR TAT + + +We are quick to notice obstacles, grudges, affronts. Are we equally +quick to recognize the kindly influences that speed us on our way? The +truth is we are each of us a debtor to life, and as honest men we should +do all we can to discharge the obligation. + + + "Life," you say, "'s an old curmudgeon; yes, a thing whose heart is + flint; + When I ask a friendly greeting, all I get's an angry glint. + Let me do it every good turn that I can--my very best, + Still it strikes me, trips, maligns me, and denies my least request. + + "So," you say, "my patience ended, I will give it tit for tat." + What a bunch of animosities is covered by your hat! + All the roses life can offer bloom and beckon to your soul, + But you close your eyes to roses and in thorns lie down and roll. + + Life does nothing for you, sonny? What a notion you have! Say, + Make a little inventory of its gifts to you to-day. + You've a house or room to sleep in--did you build it with your hand? + If you did, who made the hammer and who cleared for you the land? + + And electric lights--you use them; did you also put them there? + Beefsteak, coal, your mail, shoes, street cars--do they come like + rain from air? + Or do countless men, far-scattered, toil that you may have more + ease?-- + Stokers, hodmen, farmers, plumbers, Yankees, dagoes, Japanese? + + "Oh, that's general," you tell me. You have private blessings too. + Why, your mother in your childhood slaved and wrought and lived for you. + Helpful hands were all around you--hopes, fond wishes in the past; + Even now each day from somewhere friendly looks are on you cast. + + Though you've been both crossed and harried, you've not struggled + on alone; + Through the discords of endeavor comes to you an answering tone. + Life has done you many favors. Will you give it tit for tat? + Since you've looked so much at this side, won't you have a look + at that? + + Don't help only those who've helped you, count the rest as strangers, + foes; + How long now would you have lasted had all done as you propose? + Many and many a benefactor you did not nor can repay-- + There's your mother. Pass the kindness on to others--that's the way. + + Life it is that's given freely. Unto life make due return. + Whether folks are undeserving, neither seek nor wish to learn. + Hit your dernedest for your teammates every time you come to bat, + And the world will be more happy that you give it tit for tat. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +THE KINGDOM OF MAN + + +The wisest men know that the greatest world is not outside them. They +could, in Shakespeare's phrase, be bounded by a nut-shell and count +themselves kings of infinite space. + + + What of the outer drear, + As long as there's inner light; + As long as the sun of cheer + Shines ardently bright? + + As long as the soul's a-wing, + As long as the heart is true, + What power hath trouble to bring + A sorrow to you? + + No bar can encage the soul, + Nor capture the spirit free, + As long as old earth shall roll, + Or hours shall be. + + Our world is the world within, + Our life is the thought we take, + And never an outer sin + Can mar it or break. + + Brood not on the rich man's land, + Sigh not for miser's gold, + Holding in reach of your hand + The treasure untold + + That lies in the Mines of Heart, + That rests in the soul alone-- + Bid worry and care depart, + Come into your own! + + +_John Kendrick_ + +From "Songs of Cheer." + + + + +ABOU BEN ADHEM + + +"Forgive my enemies?" said the dying man to the priest. "I have none. +I've killed them all." This old ideal of exterminating our enemies has +by no means disappeared from the earth. But it is waning. "Live and let +live" is a more modern slogan, which mounts in turn from mere +toleration of other people to a spirit of service and universal +brotherhood. Love of our fellow men--has humanity reached any height +superior to this? + + + Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!) + Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, + And saw, within the moonlight in his room, + Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, + An angel writing in a book of gold:-- + Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, + And to the presence in the room he said, + "What writest thou?"--The vision raised its head, + And with a look made of all sweet accord, + Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord." + "And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so," + Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, + But cheerily still; and said, "I pray thee, then, + Write me as one that loves his fellow-men." + + The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night + It came again with a great wakening light, + And showed the names whom love of God had blessed, + And, lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. + + +_Leigh Hunt._ + + + + +THIS WORLD + +There is good in life and there is ill. The question is where we should +put the emphasis. + + + This world that we're a-livin' in + Is mighty hard to beat; + You git a thorn with every rose, + But _ain't _the roses _sweet_! + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +From "The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +GRAY DAYS + + +By reckoning up the odds against us and ignoring the forces in our +favor, we may indeed close the door of hope. But why not take matters +the other way about? Why not see the situation clearly and then throw +our own strong purpose in the scales? In the course of a battle an +officer reported to Stonewall Jackson that he must fall back because his +ammunition had been spoiled by a rainstorm. "So has the enemy's," was +the instant reply. "Give them the bayonet." This resolute spirit won the +battle. + + + Hang the gray days! + The deuce-to-pay days! + The feeling-blue and nothing-to-do days! + The sit-by-yourself-for-there's-nothing-new days! + When the cat that Care killed without excuse + With your inner self's crying, "Oh, what's the use?" + And you wonder whatever is going to become of you, + And you feel that a cipher expresses the sum of you; + And you know that you'll never, + Oh, never, be clever, + Spite of all your endeavor + Or hard work or whatever! + Oh, gee! + What a mix-up you see + When you look at the world where you happen to be! + Where strangers are hateful and friends are a bore, + And you know in your heart you will smile nevermore! + Gee, kid! + Clap on the lid! + It is all a mistake! Give your worries the skid! + There are sunny days coming + Succeeding the blue + And bees will be humming + Making honey for you, + And your heart will be singing + The merriest tune + While April is bringing + A May and a June! + Gray days? + Play days! + Joy-bringing pay days + And heart-lifting May days! + The sun will be shining in just a wee while + So smile! + + +_Griffith Alexander._ + +From "The Philadelphia Evening Public Ledger." + + + +[Illustration: EDMUND VANCE COOKE] + + + + +LAUGH A LITTLE BIT + + +"A merry heart doeth good like a medicine"; a little laughter cures many +a seeming ill. + + + Here's a motto, just your fit-- + Laugh a little bit. + When you think you're trouble hit, + Laugh a little bit. + Look misfortune in the face. + Brave the beldam's rude grimace; + Ten to one 'twill yield its place, + If you have the wit and grit + Just to laugh a little bit. + + Keep your face with sunshine lit, + Laugh a little bit. + All the shadows off will flit, + If you have the grit and wit + Just to laugh a little bit. + + Cherish this as sacred writ-- + Laugh a little bit. + Keep it with you, sample it, + Laugh a little bit. + Little ills will sure betide you, + Fortune may not sit beside you, + Men may mock and fame deride you, + But you'll mind them not a whit + If you laugh a little bit. + + +_Edmund Vance Cooke._ + +From "A Patch of Pansies." + + + + +A SONG OF LIFE + + +Many of us merely exist, and think that we live. What we should regain +at all costs is freshness and intensity of being. This need not involve +turbulent activity. It may involve quite the opposite. + + + Say not, "I live!" + Unless the morning's trumpet brings + A shock of glory to your soul, + Unless the ecstasy that sings + Through rushing worlds and insects' wings, + Sends you upspringing to your goal, + Glad of the need for toil and strife, + Eager to grapple hands with Life-- + Say not, "I live!" + + Say not, "I live!" + Unless the energy that rings + Throughout this universe of fire + A challenge to your spirit flings, + Here in the world of men and things, + Thrilling you with a huge desire + To mate your purpose with the stars, + To shout with Jupiter and Mars-- + Say not, "I live!" + + Say not, "I live!" + Such were a libel on the Plan + Blazing within the mind of God + Ere world or star or sun began. + Say rather, with your fellow man, + "I grub; I burrow in the sod." + Life is not life that does not flame + With consciousness of whence it came-- + Say not, "I live!" + + +_Angela Morgan._ + +From "The Hour Has Struck." + + + + +A POOR UNFORTUNATE + + +Things are never so bad but they might have been worse. An immigrant +into the South paid a negro to bring him a wild turkey. The next day he +complained: "You shouldn't shoot at the turkey's body, Rastus. Shoot at +his head. The flesh of that turkey was simply full of shot." "Boss," +said the negro, "dem shot was meant for me." + + + I + + His hoss went dead an' his mule went lame; + He lost six cows in a poker game; + A harricane came on a summer's day, + An' carried the house whar' he lived away; + Then a airthquake come when that wuz gone, + An' swallered the lan' that the house stood on! + An' the tax collector, _he_ come roun' + An' charged him up fer the hole in the groun'! + An' the city marshal--he come in view + An' said he wanted his street tax, too! + + II + + Did he moan an' sigh? Did he set an' cry + An' cuss the harricane sweepin' by? + Did he grieve that his ol' friends failed to call + When the airthquake come an' swallered all? + Never a word o' blame he said, + With all them troubles on top his head! + Not _him_.... He clumb to the top o' the hill-- + Whar' standin' room wuz left him still, + An', barin' his head, here's what he said: + "I reckon it's time to git up an' git; + But, Lord, I hain't had the measels yit!" + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +From "The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +THE TRAINERS + + +To Franklin, seeking recognition and aid for his country at the French +court, came news of an American disaster. "Howe has taken Philadelphia," +his opponents taunted him. "Oh, no," he answered, "Philadelphia has +taken Howe." He shrewdly foresaw that the very magnitude of what the +British had done would lull them into overconfidence and inaction, and +would stir the Americans to more determined effort. Above all, he +himself was undisturbed; for to the strong-hearted, trials and reverses +are instruments of final success. + + + My name is Trouble--I'm a busy bloke-- + I am the test of Courage--and of Class-- + I bind the coward to a bitter yoke, + I drive the craven from the crowning pass; + Weaklings I crush before they come to fame; + But as the red star guides across the night, + I train the stalwart for a better game; + I drive the brave into a harder fight. + + My name is Hard Luck--the wrecker of rare dreams-- + I follow all who seek the open fray; + I am the shadow where the far light gleams + For those who seek to know the open way; + Quitters I break before they reach the crest, + But where the red field echoes with the drums, + I build the fighter for the final test + And mold the brave for any drive that comes. + + My name is Sorrow--I shall come to all + To block the surfeit of an endless joy; + Along the Sable Road I pay my call + Before the sweetness of success can cloy; + And weaker souls shall weep amid the throng + And fall before me, broken and dismayed; + But braver hearts shall know that I belong + And take me in, serene and unafraid. + + My name's Defeat--but through the bitter fight, + To those who know, I'm something more than friend; + For I can build beyond the wrath of might + And drive away all yellow from the blend; + For those who quit, I am the final blow, + But for the brave who seek their chance to learn, + I show the way, at last, beyond the foe, + To where the scarlet flames of triumph burn. + + +_Grantland Rice._ + +From "The Sportlight." + + + + +LIFE + + +Most of us have failed or gone astray in one fashion or another, at one +time or another. But we need not become despondent at such times. We +should resolve to reap the full benefit of the discovery of our +weakness, our folly. + + + All in the dark we grope along, + And if we go amiss + We learn at least which path is wrong, + And there is gain in this. + + We do not always win the race + By only running right, + We have to tread the mountain's base + Before we reach its height. + + * * * * * + + But he who loves himself the last + And knows the use of pain, + Though strewn with errors all his past, + He surely shall attain. + + Some souls there are that needs must taste + Of wrong, ere choosing right; + We should not call those years a waste + Which led us to the light. + + +_Etta Wheeler Wilcox._ + +From "Poems of Power." + + + + +A TOAST TO MERRIMENT + + +A lady said to Whistler that there were but two painters--himself and +Velazquez. He replied: "Madam, why drag in Velazquez?" So it is with +Joyousness and Gloom. Both exist,--but why drag in Gloom? + + + Make merry! Though the day be gray + Forget the clouds and let's be gay! + How short the days we linger here: + A birth, a breath, and then--the bier! + Make merry, you and I, for when + We part we may not meet again! + + What tonic is there in a frown? + You may go up and I go down, + Or I go up and you--who knows + The way that either of us goes? + Make merry! Here's a laugh, for when + We part we may not meet again! + + Make merry! What of frets and fears? + There is no happiness in tears. + You tremble at the cloud and lo! + 'Tis gone--and so 'tis with our woe, + Full half of it but fancied ills. + Make merry! 'Tis the gloom that kills. + + Make merry! There is sunshine yet, + The gloom that promised, let's forget, + The quip and jest are on the wing, + Why sorrow when we ought to sing? + Refill the cup of joy, for then + We part and may not meet again. + + A smile, a jest, a joke--alas! + We come, we wonder, and we pass. + The shadow falls; so long we rest + In graves, where is no quip or jest. + Good day! Good cheer! Good-bye! For then + We part and may not meet again! + + +_James W. Foley._ + +From "Friendly Rhymes." + + + + +MISTRESS FATE + + +"Faint heart never won fair lady," Mistress Fate herself should be +courted, not with feminine finesse, but with masculine courage and +aggression. + + + Flout her power, young man! + She is merely shrewish, scolding,-- + She is plastic to your molding, + She is woman in her yielding to the fires desires fan. + Flout her power, young man! + + Fight her fair, strong man! + Such a serpent love is this,-- + Bitter wormwood in her kiss! + When she strikes, be nerved and ready; + Keep your gaze both bright and steady, + Chance no rapier-play, but hotly press the quarrel she began! + Fight her fair, strong man! + + Gaze her down, old man! + Now no laughter may defy her, + Not a shaft of scorn come nigh her, + But she waits within the shadows, in dark shadows very near. + And her silence is your fear. + Meet her world-old eyes of warning! Gaze them down with courage! _Can + You gaze them down, old man?_ + + +_William Rose Benét._ + +From "Merchants from Cathay." + + + + +SLEEP AND THE MONARCH + +(FROM "2 HENRY IV.") + + +The great elemental blessings cannot be "cornered." Indeed they cannot +be bought at all, but are the natural property of the man whose ways of +life are such as to retain them. In this passage a disappointed and +harassed king comments on the slumber which he cannot woo to his couch, +yet which his humblest subject enjoys. + + + How many thousand of my poorest subjects + Are at this hour asleep! O sleep! O gentle sleep! + Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, + That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down + And steep my senses in forgetfulness? + Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, + Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, + And hushed with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, + Than in the perfumed chambers of the great, + Under the canopies of costly state, + And lulled with sound of sweetest melody? + O thou dull god! why liest thou with the vile + In loathsome beds, and leav'st the kingly couch + A watch-case or a common 'larum bell? + Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast + Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains + In cradle of the rude imperious surge, + And in the visitation of the winds, + Who take the ruffian billows by the top, + Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them + With deafning clamor in the slippery clouds, + That with the hurly death itself awakes? + Canst thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose + To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude, + And in the calmest and most stillest night, + With all appliances and means to boot, + Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down! + Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +NEVER TROUBLE TROUBLE + + +To borrow trouble is to contract a debt that any man is better without. +If your troubles are not borrowed, they are not likely to be many or +great. + + + I used to hear a saying + That had a deal of pith; + It gave a cheerful spirit + To face existence with, + Especially when matters + Seemed doomed to go askew, + 'Twas _Never trouble trouble + Till trouble troubles you._ + + Not woes at hand, those coming + Are hardest to resist; + We hear them stalk like giants, + We see them through a mist. + But big things in the brewing + Are small things in the brew; + So never trouble trouble + Till trouble troubles you. + + Just look at things through glasses + That show the evidence; + One lens of them is courage, + The other common sense. + They'll make it clear, misgivings + Are just a bugaboo; + No more you'll trouble trouble + Till trouble troubles you. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +CLEAR THE WAY + + +Humanity is always meeting obstacles. All honor to the men who do not +fear obstacles, but push them aside and press on. Stephenson was +explaining his idea that a locomotive steam engine could run along a +track and draw cars after it. "But suppose a cow gets on the track," +some one objected. "So much the worse," said Stephenson, "for the cow." + + + Men of thought! be up and stirring, + Night and day; + Sow the seed, withdraw the curtain, + Clear the way! + Men of action, aid and cheer them, + As ye may! + There's a fount about to stream, + There's a light about to gleam, + There's a warmth about to glow, + There's a flower about to blow; + There's midnight blackness changing + Into gray! + Men of thought and men of action, + Clear the way! + + Once the welcome light has broken, + Who shall say + What the unimagined glories + Of the day? + What the evil that shall perish + In its ray? + Aid it, hopes of honest men; + Aid the dawning, tongue and pen; + Aid it, paper, aid it, type, + Aid it, for the hour is ripe; + And our earnest must not slacken + Into play. + Men of thought and men of action, + Clear the way! + + Lo! a cloud's about to vanish + From the day; + And a brazen wrong to crumble + Into clay! + With the Right shall many more + Enter, smiling at the door; + With the giant Wrong shall fall + Many others great and small, + That for ages long have held us + For their prey. + Men of thought and men of action, + Clear the way! + + +_Charles Mackay._ + + + + +ONE FIGHT MORE + + +We need not expect much of the man who, when defeated, gives way either +to despair or to a wild impulse for immediate revenge. But from the man +who stores up his strength quietly and bides his time for a new effort, +we may expect everything. + + + Now, think you, Life, I am defeated quite? + More than a single battle shall be mine + Before I yield the sword and give the sign + And turn, a crownless outcast, to the night. + Wounded, and yet unconquered in the fight, + I wait in silence till the day may shine + Once more upon my strength, and all the line + Of your defenses break before my might. + + Mine be that warrior's blood who, stricken sore, + Lies in his quiet chamber till he hears + Afar the clash and clang of arms, and knows + The cause he lived for calls for him once more; + And straightway rises, whole and void of fears, + And armed, turns him singing to his foes. + + +_Theodosia Garrison._ + +From "The Earth Cry." + + + + +A PSALM OF LIFE + +At times this existence of ours seems to be meaningless; whether we have +succeeded or whether we have failed appears to make little difference to +us, and therefore effort seems scarcely worth while. But Longfellow +tells us this view is all wrong. The past can take care of itself, and +we need not even worry very much about the future; but if we are true to +our own natures, we must be up and doing in the present. Time is short, +and mastery in any field of human activity is so long a process that it +forbids us to waste our moments. Yet we must learn also how to wait and +endure. In short, we must not become slaves to either indifference or +impatience, but must make it our business to play a man's part in life. + + + Tell me not, in mournful numbers, + Life is but an empty dream!-- + For the soul is dead that slumbers, + And things are not what they seem. + + Life is real! Life is earnest! + And the grave is not its goal; + Dust thou art, to dust returnest, + Was not spoken of the soul. + + Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, + Is our destined end or way; + But to act, that each to-morrow + Find us farther than to-day. + + Art is long, and Time is fleeting, + And our hearts, though stout and brave, + Still, like muffled drums, are beating + Funeral marches to the grave. + + In the world's broad field of battle, + In the bivouac of Life, + Be not like dumb, driven cattle! + Be a hero in the strife! + + Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! + Let the dead Past bury its dead! + Act,--act in the living Present! + Heart within, and God o'erhead! + + Lives of great men all remind us + We can make our lives sublime, + And, departing, leave behind us + Footprints on the sands of time; + + Footprints, that perhaps another, + Sailing o'er life's solemn main, + A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, + Seeing, shall take heart again. + + Let us, then, be up and doing, + With a heart for any fate; + Still achieving, still pursuing, + Learn to labor and to wait. + + +_Henry Wadsworth Longfellow._ + + + + +A CREED + +Men may seem sundered from each other; but the soul that each possesses, +and the destiny common to all, invest them with a basic brotherhood. + + + There is a destiny that makes us brothers: + None goes his way alone: + All that we send into the lives of others + Comes back into our own. + + I care not what his temples or his creeds, + One thing holds firm and fast-- + That into his fateful heap of days and deeds + The soul of a man is cast. + + +_Edwin Markham_ + +From "Lincoln, and Other Poems." + + + + +BATTLE CRY + +We should win if we can. But in any case we should prove our manhood by +fighting. + + + More than half beaten, but fearless, + Facing the storm and the night; + Breathless and reeling but tearless, + Here in the lull of the fight, + I who bow not but before thee, + God of the fighting Clan, + Lifting my fists, I implore Thee, + Give me the heart of a Man! + + What though I live with the winners + Or perish with those who fall? + Only the cowards are sinners, + Fighting the fight is all. + Strong is my foe--he advances! + Snapt is my blade, O Lord! + See the proud banners and lances! + Oh, spare me this stub of a sword! + + Give me no pity, nor spare me; + Calm not the wrath of my Foe. + See where he beckons to dare me! + Bleeding, half beaten--I go. + Not for the glory of winning, + Not for the fear of the night; + Shunning the battle is sinning-- + Oh, spare me the heart to fight! + + Red is the mist about me; + Deep is the wound in my side; + "Coward" thou criest to flout me? + O terrible Foe, thou hast lied! + Here with my battle before me, + God of the fighting Clan, + Grant that the woman who bore me + Suffered to suckle a Man! + + +_John G. Neihardt._ + +From "The Quest" (collected lyrics). + + + + +THE HAPPY HEART + + +One of our objects in life should be to find happiness, contentment. The +means of happiness are surprisingly simple. We need not be rich or +high-placed or powerful in order to be content. In fact the lowly are +often the best satisfied. Izaak Walton lived the simple life and thanked +God that there were so many things in the world of which he had no need. + + + Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers? + O sweet content! + Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplexed? + O punishment! + Dost thou laugh to see how fools are vexed + To add to golden numbers, golden numbers? + O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content! + Work apace, apace, apace, apace; + Honest labor bears a lovely face; + Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny! + + Canst drink the waters of the crispéd spring? + O sweet content! + Swimm'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own tears? + O punishment! + Then he that patiently want's burden bears + No burden bears, but is a king, a king! + O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content! + Work apace, apace, apace, apace; + Honest labor bears a lovely face; + Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny! + + +_Thomas Dekker._ + + + + +IF YOU CAN'T GO OVER OR UNDER, GO ROUND + + +Often the straight road to the thing we desire is blocked. We should not +then weakly give over our purpose, but should set about attaining it by +some indirect method. A politician knows that one way of getting a man's +vote is to please the man's wife, and that one way of pleasing the wife +is to kiss her baby. + + + A baby mole got to feeling big, + And wanted to show how he could dig; + So he plowed along in the soft, warm dirt + Till he hit something hard, and it surely hurt! + A dozen stars flew out of his snout; + He sat on his haunches, began to pout; + Then rammed the thing again with his head-- + His grandpap picked him up half dead. + "Young man," he said, "though your pate is bone. + You can't butt your way through solid stone. + This bit of advice is good, I've found: + If you can't go over or under, go round." + + A traveler came to a stream one day, + And because it presumed to cross his way, + And wouldn't turn round to suit his whim + And change its course to go with him, + His anger rose far more than it should, + And he vowed he'd cross right where he stood. + A man said there was a bridge below, + But not a step would he budge or go. + The current was swift and the bank was steep, + But he jumped right in with a violent leap. + A fisherman dragged him out half-drowned: + "When you can't go over or under, go round." + + If you come to a place that you can't get _through,_ + Or _over_ or _under_, the thing to do + Is to find a way _round_ the impassable wall, + Not say you'll go YOUR way or not at all. + You can always get to the place you're going, + If you'll set your sails as the wind is blowing. + If the mountains are high, go round the valley; + If the streets are blocked, go up some alley; + If the parlor-car's filled, don't scorn a freight; + If the front door's closed, go in the side gate. + To reach your goal this advice is sound: + If you can't go over or under, go round! + + + _Joseph Morris._ + + + + +THICK IS THE DARKNESS + + +How many of us forget when the sun goes down that it will rise again! + + + Thick is the darkness-- + Sunward, O, sunward! + Rough is the highway-- + Onward, still onward! + + Dawn harbors surely + East of the shadows. + Facing us somewhere + Spread the sweet meadows. + + Upward and forward! + Time will restore us: + Light is above us, + Rest is before us. + + +_William Ernest Henley._ + + + + +THE BELLY AND THE MEMBERS + +(ADAPTED FROM "CORIOLANUS") + + +No doubt the world is cursed with grafters and parasites--men who live +off the body economic and give nothing substantial in return. But an +appearance of uselessness is not always proof of such. We should not +condemn men in ignorance. As old as Aesop is the fable of the rebellion +of the other members of the body against the idle unproductiveness of +the belly. In this passage the fable is used as an answer to the +plebeians of Rome who have complained that the patricians are merely an +encumbrance. + + + There was a time when all the body's members + Rebelled against the belly; thus accused it: + That only like a gulf it did remain + I' the midst o' the body, idle and unactive, + Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing + Like labor with the rest, where the other instruments + Did see and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel, + And, mutually participant, did minister + Unto the appetite and affection common + Of the whole body. Note me this, good friend; + Your most grave belly was deliberate, + Not rash like his accusers, and thus answered: + "True is it, my incorporate friends," quoth he, + "That I receive the general food at first, + Which you do live upon; and fit it is; + Because I am the store-house and the shop + Of the whole body: but, if you do remember, + I send it through the rivers of your blood, + Even to the court, the heart, to the seat o' the brain: + And, through the cranks and offices of man, + The strongest nerves and small inferior veins + From me receive that natural competency + Whereby they live. Though all at once cannot + See what I do deliver out to each, + Yet I can make my audit up, that all + From me do back receive the flour of all, + And leave me but the bran." What say you to 't? + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +THE CELESTIAL SURGEON + + +We may acquire the resolution to be happy by resting on a bed of roses. +If that fails us, we should try a bed of nettles. + + + If I have faltered more or less + In my great task of happiness; + If I have moved among my race + And shown no glorious morning face; + If beams from happy human eyes + Have moved me not; if morning skies, + Books, and my food, and summer rain + Knocked on my sullen heart in vain:-- + Lord, thy most pointed pleasure take + And stab my spirit broad awake; + Or, Lord, if too obdurate I, + Choose thou, before that spirit die, + A piercing pain, a killing sin, + And to my dead heart run them in! + + +_Robert Louis Stevenson._ + + + + +MAN, BIRD, AND GOD + + +Robert Bruce, despairing of his country's cause, was aroused to new hope +and purpose by the sight of a spider casting its lines until at last it +had one that held. In the following passage the poet, uncertain as to +his own future, yet trusts the providence which guides the birds in +their long and uncharted migrations. + + + I go to prove my soul! + I see my way as birds their trackless way. + I shall arrive! what time, what circuit first, + I ask not: but unless God send his hail + Or blinding fireballs, sleet or stifling snow, + In some time, his good time, I shall arrive: + He guides me and the bird. In his good time! + + +_Robert Browning._ + + + + +HIS ALLY + + +The thought of this poem is that a man's best helper may be that which +gives him no direct aid at all--a sense of humor. + + + He fought for his soul, and the stubborn fighting + Tried hard his strength. + "One needs seven souls for this long requiting," + He said at length. + + "Six times have I come where my first hope jeered me + And laughed me to scorn; + But now I fear as I never feared me + To fall forsworn. + + "God! when they fight upright and at me + I give them back + Even such blows as theirs that combat me; + But now, alack! + + "They fight with the wiles of fiends escaping + And underhand. + Six times, O God, and my wounds are gaping! + I--reel to stand. + + "Six battles' span! By this gasping breath + No pantomime. + Tis all that I can. I am sick unto death. + And--a seventh time? + + "This is beyond all battles' soreness!" + Then his wonder cried; + For Laughter, with shield and steely harness, + Stood up at his side! + + +_William Rose Benét,_ + +From "Merchants from Cathay." + + + + +SUBMISSION + + +There are times when the right thing to do is to submit. There are times +when the right thing is to strive, to fight. To put forth one's best +effort is itself a reward. But sometimes it brings a material reward +also. The frog that after falling into the churn found that it couldn't +jump out and wouldn't try, was drowned. The frog that kept leaping in +brave but seemingly hopeless endeavor at last churned the milk, mounted +the butter for a final effort, and escaped. + + + Submission? They have preached at that so long. + As though the head bowed down would right the wrong, + As though the folded hand, the coward heart + Were saintly signs of souls sublimely strong; + As though the man who acts the waiting part + And but submits, had little wings a-start. + But may I never reach that anguished plight + Where I at last grow weary of the fight. + + Submission: "Wrong of course must ever be + Because it ever was. 'Tis not for me + To seek a change; to strike the maiden blow. + 'Tis best to bow the head and not to see; + 'Tis best to dream, that we need never know + The truth. To turn our eyes away from woe." + Perhaps. But ah--I pray for keener sight, + And may I not grow weary of the fight. + + +_Miriam Teichner._ + + + + +A PRAYER + + +Garibaldi, the Italian patriot, said to his men: "I do not promise you +ease; I do not promise you comfort. I promise you hardship, weariness, +suffering; but I promise you victory." + + + I do not pray for peace, + Nor ask that on my path + The sounds of war shall shrill no more, + The way be clear of wrath. + But this I beg thee, Lord, + Steel Thou my heart with might, + And in the strife that men call life, + Grant me the strength to fight. + + I do not pray for arms, + Nor shield to cover me. + What though I stand with empty hand, + So it be valiantly! + Spare me the coward's fear-- + Questioning wrong or right: + Lord, among these mine enemies, + Grant me the strength to fight. + + I do not pray that Thou + Keep me from any wound, + Though I fall low from thrust and blow, + Forced fighting to the ground; + But give me wit to hide + My hurt from all men's sight, + And for my need the while I bleed, + Lord, grant me strength to fight. + + I do not pray that Thou + Shouldst grant me victory; + Enough to know that from my foe + I have no will to flee. + Beaten and bruised and banned, + Flung like a broken sword, + Grant me this thing for conquering-- + Let me die fighting, Lord! + + +_Theodosia Garrison._ + +From "The Earth Cry." + + + + +STABILITY + + +Whom do we wish for our friends and allies? On whom would we wish to +depend in a time of need? Those who are not the slaves of fortune, but +have made the most of both her buffets and her rewards. Those who +control their fears and rash impulses, and do not give way to sudden +emotion. Amid confusion and disaster men like these will stand, as +Jackson did at Bull Run, like a veritable stone wall. + + + Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice + And could of men distinguish, her election + Hath sealed thee for herself; for thou hast been + As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing, + A man that fortune's buffets and rewards + Hast ta'en with equal thanks; and bless'd are those + Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled + That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger + To sound what stop she please. Give me that man + That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him + In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, + As I do thee. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +THE BARS OF FATE + + +"There ain't no such beast," ejaculated a farmer as he gazed at the +rhinoceros at a circus. His incredulity did not of course do away with +the existence of the creature. But our incredulity about many of our +difficulties will do away with them. They exist chiefly in our +imaginations. + + + I stood before the bars of Fate + And bowed my head disconsolate; + So high they seemed, so fierce their frown. + I thought no hand could break them down. + + Beyond them I could hear the songs + Of valiant men who marched in throngs; + And joyful women, fair and free, + Looked back and waved their hands to me. + + I did not cry "Too late! too late!" + Or strive to rise, or rail at Fate, + Or pray to God. My coward heart, + Contented, played its foolish part. + + So still I sat, the tireless bee + Sped o'er my head, with scorn for me, + And birds who build their nests in air + Beheld me, as I were not there. + + From twig to twig, before my face, + The spiders wove their curious lace, + As they a curtain fine would see + Between the hindering bars and me. + + Then, sudden change! I heard the call + Of wind and wave and waterfall; + From heaven above and earth below + A clear command--"ARISE AND GO!" + + I upward sprang in all my strength, + And stretched my eager hands at length + To break the bars--no bars were there; + My fingers fell through empty air! + + +_Ellen M.H. Gates._ + +From "To the Unborn Peoples." + + + + +ULTIMATE ACT + + +It is well to have purposes we can carry out. It is also well to have +purposes so lofty that we cannot carry them out; for these latter are +the mighty inner fires which warm our being at its core and without +which our impulse to do even the lesser things would be feeble. + + + I had rather cut man's purpose deeper than + Achieving it be crowned as conqueror; + To will divinely is to accomplish more + Than a mere deed: it fills anew the wan + Aspect of life with blood; it draws upon + Sources beyond the common reach and lore + Of mortals, to replenish at its core + The God-impassioned energy of man. + And herewith all the worlds of deed and thought + Quicken again with meaning--pulse and thrill + With Deity--that had forgot His touch. + There is not any act avails so much + As this invisible wedding of the will + With Life--yea, though it seem to accomplish naught. + + +_Henry Bryan Binns._ + +From "The Free Spirit." + + + + +HE WHOM A DREAM HATH POSSESSED + + +The man possessed by a vision is not perplexed, troubled, restricted, as +the rest of us are. He wanders yet is not lost from home, sees a million +dawns yet never night descending, faces death and destruction and in +them finds triumph. + + + He whom a dream hath possessed knoweth no more of doubting, + For mist and the blowing of winds and the mouthing of words he scorns; + Not the sinuous speech of schools he hears, but a knightly shouting, + And never comes darkness down, yet he greeteth a million morns. + + He whom a dream hath possessed knoweth no more of roaming; + All roads and the flowing of waves and the speediest flight he knows, + But wherever his feet are set, his soul is forever homing, + And going, he comes, and coming he heareth a call and goes. + + He whom a dream hath possessed knoweth no more of sorrow, + At death and the dropping of leaves and the fading of suns he smiles, + For a dream remembers no past and scorns the desire of a morrow, + And a dream in a sea of doom sets surely the ultimate isles. + + He whom a dream hath possessed treads the impalpable marches, + From the dust of the day's long road he leaps to a laughing star, + And the ruin of worlds that fall he views from eternal arches, + And rides God's battlefield in a flashing and golden car. + + +_Sheamus O Sheel._ + +From "The Lyric Year." + + + + +SUCCESS + + +As necessity is the mother of invention, strong desire is the mother of +attainment. + + + If you want a thing bad enough + To go out and fight for it, + Work day and night for it, + Give up your time and your peace and your sleep for it + If only desire of it + Makes you quite mad enough + Never to tire of it, + Makes you hold all other things tawdry and cheap for it + If life seems all empty and useless without it + And all that you scheme and you dream is about it, + If gladly you'll sweat for it, + Fret for it, + Plan for it, + Lose all your terror of God or man for it, + If you'll simply go after that thing that you want, + With all your capacity, + Strength and sagacity, + Faith, hope and confidence, stern pertinacity, + If neither cold poverty, famished and gaunt, + Nor sickness nor pain + Of body or brain + Can turn you away from the thing that you want, + If dogged and grim you besiege and beset it, + _You'll get it!_ + + +_Berton Braley._ + +From "Things As They Are." + + + + +PLAY THE GAME + + +The Duke of Wellington said that the battle of Waterloo was won on the +cricket fields of Eton. English sport at its best is admirable; it asks +outward triumph if possible, but far more it asks that one do his best +till the very end and treat his opponent with courtesy and fairness. The +spirit thus instilled at school has again and again been carried in +after life into the large affairs of the nation. + + + There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night-- + Ten to make and the match to win-- + A bumping pitch and a blinding light, + An hour to play and the last man in. + And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat + Or the selfish hope of a season's fame, + But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote; + "Play up! Play up! And play the game!" + + The sand of the desert is sodden red-- + Red with the wreck of a square that broke; + The Gatling's jammed and the colonel dead, + And the regiment's blind with dust and smoke. + The river of death has brimmed his banks, + And England's far and Honor a name, + But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks, + "Play up! Play up! And play the game!" + + This is the word that year by year, + While in her place the School is set, + Every one of her sons must hear, + And none that hears it dare forget. + This they all with a joyful mind + Bear through life like a torch in flame, + And falling, fling to the host behind-- + "Play up! Play up! And play the game!" + + +_Henry Newbolt._ + +From "Admirals All, and Other Verses." + + + + +THE MAN WHO FRETS AT WORLDLY STRIFE + + +"Lord, what fools these mortals be!" exclaims Puck in _A Mid-summer +Night's Dream. _And well might the fairy marvel who sees folk vexing +themselves over matters that nine times out of ten come to nothing. Much +wiser is the man who smiles at misfortunes, even when they are real ones +and affect him personally. Charles Lamb once cheerfully helped to hiss +off the stage a play he himself had written. + + + The man who frets at worldly strife + Grows sallow, sour, and thin; + Give us the lad whose happy life + Is one perpetual grin: + He, Midas-like, turns all to gold-- + He smiles when others sigh, + Enjoys alike the hot and cold, + And laughs though wet or dry. + + There's fun in everything we meet,-- + The greatest, worst, and best; + Existence is a merry treat, + And every speech a jest: + + * * * * * + + So, come what may, the man's in luck + Who turns it all to glee, + And laughing, cries, with honest Puck, + "Good Lord! what fools ye be." + + +_Joseph Rodman Drake._ + + + + +SERENITY + + +Calmness of mind to face anything the future may have in store is +expressed in this quatrain. + + + Here's a sigh to those who love me + And a smile to those who hate; + And whatever sky's above me, + Here's a heart for every fate. + + +_Lord Byron._ + + + + +HERE'S HOPIN' + + +An optimist has been described as a man who orders oysters at a +restaurant and expects to find a pearl to pay the bill with. This of +course is not optimism, but brazen brainlessness. Yet somehow the pearls +come only to those who expect them. + + + Year ain't been the very best;-- + Purty hard by trouble pressed; + But the rough way leads to rest,-- + Here's hopin'! + + Maybe craps way short; the rills + Couldn't turn the silent mills; + But the light's behind the hills,-- + Here's hopin'! + + Where we planted roses sweet + Thorns come up an' pricked the feet; + But this old world's hard to beat,-- + Here's hopin'! + + P'r'aps the buildin' that we planned + 'Gainst the cyclone couldn't stand; + But, thank God we've got the _land_,-- + Here's hopin'! + + Maybe flowers we hoped to save + Have been scattered on a grave; + But the heart's still beatin' brave,-- + Here's hopin'! + + That we'll see the mornin' light-- + That the very darkest night + Can't hide heaven from our sight,-- + Here's hopin'! + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +From "The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +CLEON AND I + + +Toward the end of the yacht race in which the _America_ won her historic +cup the English monarch, who was one of the spectators, inquired: "Which +boat is first?" "The _America_ seems to be first, your majesty," replied +an aide. "And which is second?" asked the monarch. "Your majesty, there +seems to be no second." So it is in the race for happiness. The man who +is natural, who is open and kind of heart, is always first. The man who +is merely rich or sheltered or proud is not even a good second. + + + Cleon hath a million acres, ne'er a one have I; + Cleon dwelleth in a palace, in a cottage I; + Cleon hath a dozen fortunes, not a penny I; + Yet the poorer of the twain is Cleon, and not I. + + Cleon, true, possesses acres, but the landscape I; + Half the charm to me it yieldeth money can not buy, + Cleon harbors sloth and dullness, freshening vigor I; + He in velvet, I in fustian, richer man am I. + + Cleon is a slave to grandeur, free as thought am I; + Cleon fees a score of doctors, need of none have I; + Wealth-surrounded, care-environed, Cleon fears to die; + Death may come, he'll find me ready, happier man am I. + + Cleon sees no charm in nature, in a daisy I; + Cleon hears no anthems ringing in the sea and sky; + Nature sings to me forever, earnest listener I; + State for state, with all attendants, who would change? + Not I. + + +_Charles Mackay_. + + + + +THE PESSIMIST + + +Most of our ills and troubles are not very serious when we come to +examine the realities of them. Or perhaps we expect too much. An old +negro was complaining that the railroad would not pay him for his mule, +which it had killed--nay, would not even give him back his rope. "What +rope?" he was asked. "Why, sah," answered he, "de rope dat I tied de +mule on de track wif." + + + Nothing to do but work, + Nothing to eat but food, + Nothing to wear but clothes + To keep one from going nude. + + Nothing to breathe but air + Quick as a flash 'tis gone; + Nowhere to fall but off, + Nowhere to stand but on. + + Nothing to comb but hair, + Nowhere to sleep but in bed, + Nothing to weep but tears, + Nothing to bury but dead. + + Nothing to sing but songs, + Ah, well, alas! alack! + Nowhere to go but out, + Nowhere to come but back. + + Nothing to see but sights, + Nothing to quench but thirst, + Nothing to have but what we've got; + Thus thro' life we are cursed. + + Nothing to strike but a gait; + Everything moves that goes. + Nothing at all but common sense + Can ever withstand these woes. + + +_Ben King_. + +From "Ben King's Verse." + + + + +A PROBLEM TO BE SOLVED + + +There are irritating, troublesome people about us. Of what use is it to +be irritating in our turn or to add to the trouble? Most offenders have +their better side. Our wisest course is to find this and upon the basis +of it build up a better relationship. + + + There's a fellow in your office + Who complains and carps and whines + Till you'd almost do a favor + To his heirs and his assigns. + But I'll tip you to a secret + (And this chap's of course involved)-- + He's no foeman to be fought with; + He's a problem to be solved. + + There's a duffer in your district + Whose sheer cussedness is such + He has neither pride nor manners-- + No, nor gumption, overmuch. + 'Twould be great to up and tell him + Where to go. But be resolved-- + He's no foeman to be fought with, + Just a problem to be solved. + + This old earth's (I'm sometimes thinking) + One menagerie of freaks-- + Folks invested with abnormal + Lungs or brains or galls or beaks. + But we're not just shrieking monkeys + In a dim, vast cage revolved; + We're not foemen to be fought with, + Merely problems to be solved. + + +_St. Clair Adams_. + + + + +PROSPICE + + +Here the poet looks forward to death. He does not ask for an easy death; +he does not wish to creep past an experience which all men sooner or +later must face, and which many men have faced so heroically. He has +fought well in life; he wishes to make the last fight too. The poem was +written shortly after the death of Mrs. Browning, and the closing lines +refer to her. + + + Fear death?--to feel the fog in my throat, + The mist in my face, + When the snows begin, and the blasts denote + I am nearing the place, + The power of the night, the press of the storm, + The post of the foe; + Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form, + Yet the strong man must go: + For the journey is done and the summit attained, + And the barriers fall, + Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be gained, + The reward of it all. + I was ever a fighter, so--one fight more, + The best and the last! + I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forbore. + And bade me creep past. + No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers + The heroes of old, + Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears + Of pain, darkness and cold. + For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, + The black minute's at end, + And the elements' rage, the fiend-voices that rave, + Shall dwindle, shall blend, + Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain, + Then a light, then thy breast, + O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again, + And with God be the rest! + + +_Robert Browning_. + + + + +THE GREATNESS OF THE SOUL + + +Geologists tell us that in the long processes of the ages mountains have +been raised and leveled, continents formed and washed away. Astronomers +tell us that in space are countless worlds, many of them doubtless +inhabited--perhaps by creatures of a lower type than we, perhaps by +creatures of a higher. The magnitude of these changes and of these +worlds makes the imagination reel. But on one thing we can rely--the +greatness of the human soul. On one thing we can confidently build--the +men whose spirit is lofty, divine. + + + For tho' the Giant Ages heave the hill + And break the shore, and evermore + Make and break, and work their will; + Tho' world on world in myriad myriads roll + Round us, each with different powers, + And other forms of life than ours, + What know we greater than the soul? + On God and Godlike men we build our trust. + + + _Alfred Tennyson_. + + + + +HEINELET + + +What sheer perseverance can accomplish, even in matters of the heart, is +revealed in this little poem written in Heine's mood of mingled +seriousness and gayety. + + + He asked if she ever could love him. + She answered him, no, on the spot. + He asked if she ever could love him. + She assured him again she could not. + + He asked if she ever could love him. + She laughed till his blushes he hid. + He asked if she ever could love him. + By God, she admitted she did. + + +_Gamaliel Bradford_. + +From "Shadow Verses." + + + + +STAND FORTH! + + +The human spirit can triumph over difficulties, as flowers bloom along +the edge of the Alpine snow. + + + Stand forth, my soul, and grip thy woe, + Buckle the sword and face thy foe. + What right hast thou to be afraid + When all the universe will aid? + Ten thousand rally to thy name, + Horses and chariots of flame. + Do others fear? Do others fail? + _My soul must grapple and prevail_. + My soul must scale the mountainside + And with the conquering army ride-- + Stand forth, my soul! + + Stand forth, my soul, and take command. + 'Tis I, thy master, bid thee stand. + Claim thou thy ground and thrust thy foe, + Plead not thine enemy should go. + Let others cringe! My soul is free, + No hostile host can conquer me. + There lives no circumstance so great + Can make me yield, or doubt my fate. + My soul must know what kings have known. + Must reach and claim its rightful throne-- + Stand forth, my soul! + + I ask no truce, I have no qualms, + I seek no quarter and no alms. + Let those who will obey the sod, + My soul sprang from the living God. + 'Tis I, the king, who bid thee stand; + Grasp with thy hand my royal hand-- + Stand forth! + + +_Angela Morgan_. + +From "The Hour Has Struck." + + + + +[Illustration: WALT MASON] + + + + +LIONS AND ANTS + + + Once a hunter met a lion near the hungry critter's lair, and the + way that lion mauled him was decidedly unfair; but the hunter + never whimpered when the surgeons, with their thread, sewed up + forty-seven gashes in his mutilated head; and he showed the + scars in triumph, and they gave him pleasant fame, and he + always blessed the lion that had camped upon his frame. Once + that hunter, absent minded, sat upon a hill of ants, and about + a million bit him, and you should have seen him dance! And he + used up lots of language of a deep magenta tint, and + apostrophized the insects in a style unfit to print. And it's + thus with worldly troubles; when the big ones come along, we + serenely go to meet them, feeling valiant, bold and strong, but + the weary little worries with their poisoned stings and smarts, + put the lid upon our courage, make us gray, and break our + hearts. + + +_Walt Mason_. + +From "Walt Mason, His Book." + + + + +LIFE, NOT DEATH + + +Sometimes life is so unsatisfying that we think we should like to be rid +of it. But we really are not longing for death; we are longing for more +life. + + + Whatever crazy sorrow saith, + No life that breathes with human breath + Has ever truly longed for death. + + 'Tis life, whereof our nerves are scant, + Oh life, not death, for which we pant; + More life, and fuller, that I want. + + +_Alfred Tennyson_. + + + + +THE UNMUSICAL SOLOIST + + +In any sort of athletic contest a man who individually is good--perhaps +even of the very best--may be a poor member of the team because he +wishes to do all the playing himself and will not co-operate with his +fellows. Every coach knows how such a man hashes the game. The same +thing is true in business or in anything else where many people work +together; a really capable man often fails because he hogs the center of +the stage and wants to be the whole show. To seek petty, immediate +triumphs instead of earning and waiting for the big, silent approval of +one's own conscience and of those who understand, is a mark of +inferiority. It is also a barrier to usefulness, for an egotistical man +is necessarily selfish and a selfish man cannot co-operate. + + + Music hath charms--at least it should; + Even a homely voice sounds good + That sings a cheerful, gladsome song + That shortens the way, however long. + A screechy fife, a bass drum's beat + Is wonderful music to marching feet; + A scratchy fiddle or banjo's thump + May tickle the toes till they want to jump. + But one musician fills the air + With discords that jar folks everywhere. + A pity it is he ever was born-- + The discordant fellow who toots his own horn. + + He gets in the front where all can see-- + "Now turn the spot-light right on me," + He says, and sings in tones sonorous + His own sweet halleluiah chorus. + Refrain and verse are both the same-- + The pronoun I or his own name. + He trumpets his worth with such windy tooting + That louder it sounds than cowboys shooting. + This man's a nuisance wherever he goes, + For the world soon tires of the chap who blows. + Whether mighty in station or hoer of corn, + Unwelcome's the fellow who toots his own horn. + + The poorest woodchopper makes the most sound; + A poor cook clatters the most pans around; + The rattling spoke carries least of the load; + And jingling pennies pay little that's owed; + A rooster crows but lays no eggs; + A braggart blows but drives no pegs. + He works out of harmony with any team, + For others are skim milk and he is the cream. + "The world," so far as he can see, + "Consists of a few other folks and ME." + He richly deserves to be held in scorn-- + The ridiculous fellow who toots his own horn. + + +_Joseph Morris_. + + + + +ON DOWN THE ROAD + + +Hazlitt said that the defeat of the Whigs could be read in the shifting +and irresolute countenance of Charles James Fox, and the triumph of the +Tories in Pitt's "aspiring nose." The empires of the Montezumas are +conquered by men who, like Cortez, risk everything in the enterprise and +make retreat impossible by burning their ships behind them. + + + Hold to the course, though the storms are about you; + Stick to the road where the banner still flies; + Fate and his legions are ready to rout you-- + Give 'em both barrels--and aim for their eyes. + + Life's not a rose bed, a dream or a bubble, + A living in clover beneath cloudless skies; + And Fate hates a fighter who's looking for trouble, + So give 'im both barrels--and shoot for the eyes. + + Fame never comes to the loafers and sitters, + Life's full of knots in a shifting disguise; + Fate only picks on the cowards and quitters, + So give 'em both barrels--and aim for the eyes. + + +_Grantland Rice_. + +From "The Sportlight." + + + + +MEETIN' TROUBLE + + +Some students of biology planned a trick on their professor. They took +the head of one beetle, the body of another of a totally different +species, the wings of a third, the legs of a fourth. These members they +carefully pasted together. Then they asked the professor what kind of +bug the creature was. He answered promptly, "A humbug." Just such a +monstrosity is trouble--especially future trouble. Some things about it +are real, but the whole combined menace is only an illusion, not a thing +which actually exists at all. Face the trouble itself; give no heed to +that idea of it which invests it with a hundred dire calamities. + + + Trouble in the distance seems all-fired big-- + Sorter makes you shiver when you look at it a-comin'; + Makes you wanter edge aside, er hide, er take a swig + Of somethin' that is sure to set your worried head a-hummin'. + Trouble in the distance is a mighty skeery feller-- + But wait until it reaches you afore you start to beller! + + Trouble standin' in th' road and frownin' at you, black, + Makes you feel like takin' to the weeds along the way; + Wish to goodness you could turn and hump yerself straight back; + Know 'twill be awful when he gets you close at bay! + Trouble standin' in the road is bound to make you shy-- + But wait until it reaches you afore you start to cry! + + Trouble face to face with you ain't pleasant, but you'll find + That it ain't one-ha'f as big as fust it seemed to be; + Stand up straight and bluff it out! Say, "I gotter a mind + To shake my fist and skeer you off--you don't belong ter me!" + Trouble face to face with you? Though you mayn't feel gay, + Laugh at it as if you wuz--and it'll sneak away! + + +_Everard Jack Appleton_. + +From "The Quiet Courage." + + + + +PRESS ON + + +The spirit that has tamed this continent is the spirit which says, +"Press on." It appeals, not so much to men in the mass, as to +individuals. There is only one way for mankind to go forward. Each +individual must be determined that, come what will, he will never quail +or recede. + + + Press on! Surmount the rocky steps, + Climb boldly o'er the torrent's arch; + He fails alone who feebly creeps, + He wins who dares the hero's march. + Be thou a hero! Let thy might + Tramp on eternal snows its way, + And through the ebon walls of night + Hew down a passage unto day. + + Press on! If once and twice thy feet + Slip back and stumble, harder try; + From him who never dreads to meet + Danger and death they're sure to fly. + To coward ranks the bullet speeds, + While on their breasts who never quail, + Gleams, guardian of chivalric deeds, + Bright courage like a coat of mail. + + Press on! If Fortune play thee false + To-day, to-morrow she'll be true; + Whom now she sinks she now exalts, + Taking old gifts and granting new, + The wisdom of the present hour + Makes up the follies past and gone; + To weakness strength succeeds, and power + From frailty springs! Press on, press on! + + +_Park Benjamin_. + + + + +MY CREED + + +We all have a philosophy of life, whether or not we formulate it. Does +it end in self, or does it include our relations and our duties to our +fellows? General William Booth of the Salvation Army was once asked to +send a Christmas greeting to his forces throughout the world. His life +had been spent in unselfish service; over the cable he sent but one +word--OTHERS. + + + This is my creed: To do some good, + To bear my ills without complaining, + To press on as a brave man should + For honors that are worth the gaining; + To seek no profits where I may, + By winning them, bring grief to others; + To do some service day by day + In helping on my toiling brothers + + This is my creed: To close my eyes + To little faults of those around me; + To strive to be when each day dies + Some better than the morning found me; + To ask for no unearned applause, + To cross no river until I reach it; + To see the merit of the cause + Before I follow those who preach it. + + This is my creed: To try to shun + The sloughs in which the foolish wallow; + To lead where I may be the one + Whom weaker men should choose to follow. + To keep my standards always high, + To find my task and always do it; + This is my creed--I wish that I + Could learn to shape my action to it. + + +_S.E. Kiser._ + + + + +CO-OPERATION + + +"We must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately," +Benjamin Franklin is reported to have said at the signing of the +Declaration of Independence. + + + It ain't the guns nor armament, + Nor funds that they can pay, + But the close co-operation, + That makes them win the day. + + It ain't the individual, + Nor the army as a whole, + But the everlasting team-work + Of every bloomin' soul. + + +_J. Mason Knox_. + + + + +THE NOBLE NATURE + + +There is a deceptive glamour about mere bigness. Quality may accompany +quantity, but it need not. In fact good things are usually done up in +small parcels. "I could eat you at a mouthful," roared a bulky opponent +to the small and sickly Alexander H. Stephens. "If you did," replied +Stephens quietly, "you'd have more brains in your belly than ever you +had in your head." + + + It is not growing like a tree + In bulk, doth make Man better be; + Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, + To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere: + A lily of a day + Is fairer far in May, + Although it fall and die that night-- + It was the plant and flower of Light. + In small proportions we just beauties see; + And in short measures life may perfect be. + + +_Ben Jonson_. + + + + +DAYS OF CHEER + + +Edison says that genius is two parts inspiration, ninety-eight parts +perspiration. So happiness is two parts circumstance, ninety-eight parts +mental attitude. + + + "Feelin' fine," he used to say, + Come a clear or cloudy day, + Wave his hand, an' shed a smile, + Keepin' sunny all th' while. + Never let no bugbears grim + Git a wrastle-holt o' him, + Kep' a-smilin' rain or shine, + Tell you he was "feelin' fine!" + + "Feelin' fine," he used to say + Wave his hand an' go his way. + Never had no time to lose + So he said, fighting blues. + Had a twinkle in his eye + Always when a-goin' by, + Sort o' smile up into mine, + Tell me he was "feelin' fine!" + + "Feelin' fine," he'd allus say, + An' th' sunshine seemed to stay + Close by him, or else he shone + With some sunshine of his own. + Didn't seem no clouds could dim + Any happiness for him, + Allus seemed to have a line + Out f'r gladness--"feelin' fine!" + + "Feelin' fine," I've heard him say + Half a dozen times a day, + An' as many times I knowed + He was bearin' up a load. + But he never let no grim + Troubles git much holt on him, + Kep' his spirits jest like wine, + Bubblin' up an' "feelin' fine!" + + "Feelin' fine"--I hope he'll stay + All his three score that-a-way, + Lettin' his demeanor be + Sech as you could have or me + Ef we tried, an' went along + Spillin' little drops o' song, + Lettin' rosebuds sort o' twine + O'er th' thorns and "feelin' fine." + + +_James W. Foley_. + +From "Tales of the Trail." + + + + + +DE SUNFLOWER AIN'T DE DAISY + + +"Know yourself," said the Greeks. "Be yourself," bade Marcus Aurelius. +"Give yourself," taught the Master. Though the third precept is the +noblest, the first and second are admirable also. The second is violated +on all hands. Yet to be what nature planned us--to develop our own +natural selves--is better than to copy those who are wittier or wiser or +otherwise better endowed than we. Genuineness should always be preferred +to imitation. + + + De sunflower ain't de daisy, and de melon ain't de rose; + Why is dey all so crazy to be sumfin else dat grows? + Jess stick to de place yo're planted, and do de bes yo knows; + Be de sunflower or de daisy, de melon or de rose. + Don't be what yo ain't, jess yo be what yo is, + If yo am not what yo are den yo is not what you is, + If yo're jess a little tadpole, don't yo try to be de frog; + If yo are de tail, don't yo try to wag de dawg. + Pass de plate if yo can't exhawt and preach; + If yo're jess a little pebble, don't yo try to be de beach; + When a man is what he isn't, den he isn't what he is, + An' as sure as I'm talking, he's a-gwine to get his. + + +_Anonymous_. + + + + +THE DAFFODILS + + +The poet in lonely mood came suddenly upon a host of daffodils and was +thrilled by their joyous beauty. But delightful as the immediate scene +was, it was by no means the best part of his experience. For long +afterwards, when he least expected it, memory brought back the flowers +to the eye of his spirit, filled his solitary moments with thoughts of +past happiness, and took him once more (so to speak) into the free open +air and the sunshine. Just so for us the memory of happy sights we have +seen comes back again to bring us pleasure. + + + I wander'd lonely as a cloud + That floats on high o'er vales and hills, + When all at once I saw a crowd, + A host of golden daffodils, + Beside the lake, beneath the trees, + Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. + + Continuous as the stars that shine + And twinkle on the milky way, + They stretch'd in never-ending line + Along the margin of a bay: + Ten thousand saw I at a glance + Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. + + The waves beside them danced, but they + Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:-- + A Poet could not but be gay + In such a jocund company! + I gazed--and gazed--but little thought + What wealth the show to me had brought; + + For oft, when on my couch I lie + In vacant or in pensive mood, + They flash upon that inward eye + Which is the bliss of solitude; + And then my heart with pleasure fills, + And dances with the daffodils. + + +_William Wordsworth._ + + + +[Illustration: FRANK L. STANTON] + + + + +A LITTLE THANKFUL SONG + + +No man is without a reason to be thankful. If he lacks gratitude, the +fault lies at least partly with himself. + + + For what are we thankful for? For this: + For the breath and the sunlight of life + For the love of the child, and the kiss + On the lips of the mother and wife. + For roses entwining, + For bud and for bloom, + And hopes that are shining + Like stars in the gloom. + + For what are we thankful for? For this: + The strength and the patience of toil; + For ever the dreams that are bliss-- + The hope of the seed in the soil. + For souls that are whiter + From day unto day; + And lives that are brighter + From going God's way. + + For what are we thankful for? For all: + The sunlight--the shadow--the song; + The blossoms may wither and fall, + But the world moves in music along! + For simple, sweet living, + (Tis love that doth teach it) + A heaven forgiving + And faith that can reach it! + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +From "The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +TWO RAINDROPS + +(A FABLE) + + +An egotist is not only selfish; he is usually ridiculous as well, for he +sets us to wondering as to any possible ground for his exalted opinion +of himself. The real workers do not emphasize their superiority to other +people, do not even emphasize the differences, but are grateful that +they may share in humanity's privilege of rendering service. + + + Two little raindrops were born in a shower, + And one was so pompously proud of his power, + He got in his head an extravagant notion + He'd hustle right off and swallow the ocean. + A blade of grass that grew by the brook + Called for a drink, but no notice he took + Of such trifling things. He must hurry to be + Not a mere raindrop, but the whole sea. + A stranded ship needed water to float, + But he could not bother to help a boat. + He leaped in the sea with a puff and a blare-- + And nobody even knew he was there! + + But the other drop as along it went + Found the work to do for which it was sent: + It refreshed the lily that drooped its head, + And bathed the grass that was almost dead. + It got under the ships and helped them along, + And all the while sang a cheerful song. + It worked every step of the way it went, + Bringing joy to others, to itself content. + At last it came to its journey's end, + And welcomed the sea as an old-time friend. + "An ocean," it said, "there could not be + Except for the millions of drops like me." + + +_Joseph Morris,_ + + + + +MY WAGE + + +We may as well aim high as low, ask much as little. The world will not +miss what it gives us, and our reward will largely be governed by our +demands. + + + I bargained with Life for a penny, + And Life would pay no more, + However I begged at evening + When I counted my scanty store; + + For Life is a just employer, + He gives you what you ask, + But once you have set the wages, + Why, you must bear the task. + + I worked for a menial's hire, + Only to learn, dismayed, + That any wage I had asked of Life, + Life would have paid. + + +_Jessie B. Rittenhouse._ + +From "The Door of Dreams." + + + + + +THE GIFT + + +"Trust thyself," says Emerson; "every heart vibrates to that iron +string." This is wholesome and inspiring advice, but there is, as always, +another side to the question. Many a man falls into absurdities and +mistakes because he cannot get outside of himself and look at himself +from other people's eyes. We should cultivate the ability to see +everything, including ourselves, from more than one standpoint. + + + O wad some Pow'r the giftie gie us + To see oursels as ithers see us! + It wad frae mony a blunder free us, + And foolish notion; + What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, + And ev'n devotion! + + +_Robert Burns._ + + + + +PROMETHEUS UNBOUND + + +In the poem from which this excerpt is taken, Prometheus the Titan has +been cruelly tortured for opposing the malignant will of Jupiter. In the +end Prometheus wins a complete outward victory. Better still, by his +steadfastness and high purpose he has won a great inward triumph. The +spirit that has actuated him and the nature of his achievement are +expressed in the following lines. + + + To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite; + To forgive wrongs darker than death or night; + To defy Power, which seems omnipotent; + To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates + From its own wreck the thing it contemplates; + Neither to change, nor falter, nor repent; + This, like thy glory, Titan, is to be + Good, great and joyous, beautiful and free; + This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory. + + +_Percy Bysshe Shelley._ + + + + +VICTORY IN DEFEAT + + +The great, radiant souls of earth--the Davids, the Shakespeares, the +Lincolns--know grief and affliction as well as joy and triumph. But +adversity is never to them mere adversity; it + + "Doth suffer a sea-change + Into something rich and strange"; + +and in the crucible of character their suffering itself is transmuted +into song. + + + Defeat may serve as well as victory + To shake the soul and let the glory out. + When the great oak is straining in the wind, + The boughs drink in new beauty, and the trunk + Sends down a deeper root on the windward side. + Only the soul that knows the mighty grief + Can know the mighty rapture. Sorrows come + To stretch out spaces in the heart for joy. + + +_Edwin Markham._ + +From "The Shoes of Happiness, and Other Poems." + + + + +THE RICHER MINES + + +No man is so poor but that he is a stockholder. Yet many a man has no +real riches; his stocks draw dividends in dollars and cents only. + + + When it comes to buying shares + In the mines of earth, + May I join the millionaires + Who are rich in mirth. + + Let me have a heavy stake + In fresh mountain air-- + I will promise now to take + All that you can spare. + + When you're setting up your claim + In the Mines of Glee, + Don't forget to use my name-- + You can count on me. + + Nothing better can be won, + Freer from alloy, + Than a bouncing claim in "Con- + Solidated Joy." + + You can have your Copper Stocks + Gold and tin and coal-- + What I'd have within my box + Has to do with Soul. + +_John Kendrick Bangs._ + +From "Songs of Cheer." + + + + +BRAVE LIFE + + +To be absolutely without physical fear may not be the highest courage; +to shrink and quake, and yet stand at one's post, may be braver still. +So of success. It lies less in the attainment of some external end than +in holding yourself to your purposes and ideals; for out of high loyalty +and effort comes that intangible thing called character, which is no +mere symbol of success, but success itself. + + + I do not know what I shall find on out beyond the final fight; + I do not know what I shall meet beyond the last barrage of night; + Nor do I care--but this I know--if I but serve within the fold + And play the game--I'll be prepared for all the endless years may hold. + + Life is a training camp at best for what may wait beyond the years; + A training camp of toiling days and nights that lean to dreams and tears; + But each may come upon the goal, and build his soul above all Fate + By holding an unbroken faith and taking Courage for a mate. + + Is not the fight itself enough that man must look to some behest? + Wherein does Failure miss Success if all engaged but do their best? + Where does the Victor's cry come in for wreath of fame or laureled brow + If one he vanquished fought as well as weaker muscle would allow? + + If my opponent in the fray should prove to be a stronger foe-- + Not of his making--but because the Destinies ordained it so; + If he should win--and I should lose--although I did my utmost part, + Is my reward the less than his if he should strive with equal heart? + + Brave Life, I hold, is something more than driving upward to the peak; + Than smashing madly through the strong, and crashing onward through the + weak; + I hold the man who makes his fight against the raw game's crushing odds + Is braver than his brothers are who hold the favor of the gods. + + On by the sky line, faint and vague, in that Far Country all must know, + No laurel crown of fame may wait beyond the sunset's glow; + But life has given me the chance to train and serve within the fold, + To meet the test--and be prepared for all the endless years may hold. + + +_Grantland Rice._ + +From "The Sportlight." + + + + +A SONG OF TO-MORROW + + +A night's sleep and a new day--these are excellent things to look +forward to when one is weary or in trouble. + + + Li'l bit er trouble, + Honey, fer terday; + Yander come Termorrer-- + Shine it all away! + + Rainy Sky is sayin', + "Dis'll never do! + Fetch dem rainbow ribbons, + En I'll dress in blue!" + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +From "The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +THE GLAD SONG + + +Gladness begins with the first person, with you. But it may spread far, +like the ripples when you toss a stone in the water. + + + Sing a song, sing a song, + Ring the glad-bells all along; + Smile at him who frowns at you, + He will smile and then they're two. + + Laugh a bit, laugh a bit, + Folks will soon be catching it, + Can't resist a happy face; + World will be a merry place. + + Laugh a Bit and Sing a Song, + Where they are there's nothing wrong; + Joy will dance the whole world through, + But it must begin with you. + + +_Joseph Morris._ + + + + +PAINTING THE LILY + + +Many people are not content to let well enough alone, but spoil what +they have by striving for an unnecessary and foolish improvement. If +they have a rich title, they try to ornament it still further; if they +have refined gold, they try to gild it; if they have a lily, they try to +paint it into still purer color. + + + Therefore, to be possessed with double pomp, + To guard a title that was rich before, + To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, + To throw a perfume on the violet, + To smooth the ice, or add another hue + Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light + To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, + Is wasteful and ridiculous excess. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +A PRETTY GOOD WORLD + + +The world has its faults, but few of us would give it up till we have +to. + + + Pretty good world if you take it all round-- + Pretty good world, good people! + Better be on than under the ground-- + Pretty good world, good people! + Better be here where the skies are as blue + As the eyes of your sweetheart a-smilin' at you-- + Better than lyin' 'neath daisies and dew-- + Pretty good world, good people! + + Pretty good world with its hopes and its fears-- + Pretty good world, good people! + Sun twinkles bright through the rain of its tears-- + Pretty good world, good people! + Better be here, in the pathway you know-- + Where the thorn's in the garden where sweet roses grow, + Than to rest where you feel not the fall o' the snow-- + Pretty good world, good people! + + Pretty good world! Let us sing it that way-- + Pretty good world, good people! + Make up your mind that you're in it to stay-- + At least for a season, good people! + Pretty good world, with its dark and its bright-- + Pretty good world, with its love and its light; + Sing it that way till you whisper, "Good-night!"-- + Pretty good world, good people! + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +From "The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +ODE TO DUTY + + +In the first stanza the poet hails duty as coming from God. It is a +light to guide us and a rod to check. To obey it does not lead to +victory; to obey it _is_ victory--is to live by a high, noble law. In +the second stanza he admits that some people do right without driving +themselves to it--do it by instinct and "the genial sense of youth." In +stanza 3 he looks forward to a time when all people will be thus +blessed, but he thinks that as yet it is unsafe for most of us to lose +touch completely with stern, commanding duty. In stanzas 4 and 5 he +states that he himself has been too impatient of control, has wearied +himself by changing from one desire to another, and now wishes to +regulate his life by some great abiding principle. In stanza 6 he +declares that duty, though stern, is benignant; the flowers bloom in +obedience to it, and the stars keep their places. In the final stanza he +dedicates his life to its service. + + + Stern Daughter of the Voice of God! + O Duty! if that name thou love + Who art a light to guide, a rod + To check the erring, and reprove; + Thou who art victory and law + When empty terrors overawe; + From vain temptations dost set free, + And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity! + + There are who ask not if thine eye + Be on them; who, in love and truth + Where no misgiving is, rely + Upon the genial sense of youth: + Glad hearts! without reproach or blot, + Who do thy work, and know it not: + Oh! if through confidence misplaced + They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power! around them cast. + + Serene will be our days and bright + And happy will our nature be + When love is an unerring light, + And joy its own security. + And they a blissful course may hold + Ev'n now, who, not unwisely bold, + Live in the spirit of this creed; + Yet seek thy firm support, according to their need. + + I, loving freedom, and untried, + No sport of every random gust, + Yet being to myself a guide, + Too blindly have reposed my trust: + And oft, when in my heart was heard + Thy timely mandate, I deferr'd + The task, in smoother walks to stray; + But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may. + + Through no disturbance of my soul + Or strong compunction in me wrought, + I supplicate for thy control, + But in the quietness of thought: + Me this uncharter'd freedom tires; + I feel the weight of chance-desires: + My hopes no more must change their name; + I long for a repose that ever is the same. + + Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear + The Godhead's most benignant grace, + Nor know we anything so fair + As is the smile upon thy face; + Flowers laugh before thee on their beds, + And fragrance in thy footing treads; + Thou dost preserve the Stars from wrong; + And the most ancient Heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong. + + To humbler functions, awful Power! + I call thee: I myself commend + Unto thy guidance from this hour; + Oh let my weakness have an end! + Give unto me, made lowly wise, + The spirit of self-sacrifice; + The confidence of reason give; + And in the light of truth thy Bondman let me live. + + +_William Wordsworth._ + + + + +THE SYNDICATED SMILE + + +A ready and sincere friendliness is the one thing we can show to every +human being, whether we know him or not. The world is full of perplexed +and lonely people whom even a smile or a kind look will help. Yet that +which is so easy to give we too often reserve for a few, and those +perhaps the least appreciative. + + + I knew a girl who had a beau + And his name wasn't Adams-- + No child of hers would ever call + The present writer "daddums." + I didn't love the girl, but still + I found her most beguiling; + And so did all the other chaps-- + She did it with her smiling. + "I'm not a one-man girl," she said-- + "Of smiles my beau first took his; + But some are left; I'll syndicate + And pass them round like cookies." + + That syndicated smile! + When trouble seemed the most in style, + It heartened us-- + That indicated, + Syndicated + Smile. + + It's not enough to please your boss + Or fawn round folks with bankrolls; + Be just as friendly to the guys + Whose homespun round their shank rolls. + The best investment in the world + Is goodwill, twenty carat; + It costs you nothing, brings returns; + So get yours out and air it. + A niggard of good nature cheats + Himself and wrongs his fellows. + You'd serve mankind? Then be less close + With friendly nods and helloes. + + The syndicated smile! + If you have kept it all the while, + You've vindicated + The indicated, + Syndicated + Smile. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +FAIRY SONG + + +The great beneficent forces of life are not exhausted when once used, +but are recurrent. The sun rises afresh each new day. Once a year the +springtime returns and "God renews His ancient rapture." So it is with +our joys. They do not stay by us constantly; they pass from us and are +gone; but we need not trouble ourselves--they are sure to come back. + + + Shed no tear! O shed no tear! + The flower will bloom another year. + Weep no more! O weep no more! + Young buds sleep in the root's white core. + Dry your eyes! O dry your eyes, + For I was taught in Paradise + To ease my breast of melodies-- + Shed no tear. + + Overhead! look overhead, + 'Mong the blossoms white and red-- + Look up, look up--I flutter now + On this flush pomegranate bough. + See me! 'tis this silvery bill + Ever cures the good man's ill. + Shed no tear! O shed no tear! + The flowers will bloom another year. + Adieu, adieu--I fly, adieu, + I vanish in the heaven's blue-- + Adieu, adieu! + + +_John Keats._ + + + + +PRAISE THE GENEROUS GODS FOR GIVING + + +Some of us find joy in toil, some in art, some in the open air and the +sunshine. All of us find it in simply being alive. Life is the gift no +creature in his right mind would part with. As Milton asks, + + "For who would lose, + Though full of pain, this intellectual being, + These thoughts that wander through eternity, + To perish rather, swallowed up and lost + In the wide womb of uncreated night, + Devoid of sense and motion?" + + + Praise the generous gods for giving + In a world of wrath and strife, + With a little time for living, + Unto all the joy of life. + + At whatever source we drink it, + Art or love or faith or wine, + In whatever terms we think it, + It is common and divine. + + Praise the high gods, for in giving + This to man, and this alone, + They have made his chance of living + Shine the equal of their own. + + +_William Ernest Henley._ + + + + +COWARDS + + +We might as well accept the inevitable as the inevitable. There is no +escaping death or taxes. + + + Cowards die many times before their deaths: + The valiant never taste of death but once. + Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, + It seems to me most strange that men should fear; + Seeing that death, a necessary end, + Will come, when it will come. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +THE WORD + + +The Cumaean sibyl offered Tarquin the Proud nine books for what seemed +an exorbitant sum. He refused. She burned three of the books, and placed +the same price on the six as on the original nine. Again he refused. She +burned three more books, and offered the remainder for the sum she first +named. This time Tarquin accepted. The books were found to contain +prophecies and invaluable directions regarding Roman policy, but alas, +they were no longer complete. So it is with joy. To take it now is to +get it in its entirety. To defer until some other occasion is to get +less of it--at the same cost. + + + Today, whatever may annoy, + The word for it is Joy, just simple joy: + The joy of life; + The joy of children and of wife; + The joy of bright blue skies; + The joy of rain; the glad surprise + Of twinkling stars that shine at night; + The joy of winged things upon their flight; + The joy of noonday, and the tried, + True joyousness of eventide; + The joy of labor and of mirth; + The joy of air, and sea, and earth-- + The countless joys that ever flow from Him + Whose vast beneficence doth dim + The lustrous light of day, + And lavish gifts divine upon our way. + Whatever there be of Sorrow + I'll put off till To-morrow, + And when To-morrow comes, why, then + 'Twill be To-day, and Joy again! + + +_John Kendrick Bangs._ + +From "The Atlantic Monthly." + + + + +ENVOI + + +Franklin K. Lane stipulated that when he died his body should be +cremated and the ashes scattered from El Capitan over the beautiful +Yosemite Valley. He thus symbolized what many of us feel--the unity of +our deeper and finer selves with the eternal life and loveliness of +nature. + + + Oh seek me not within a tomb; + Thou shalt not find me in the clay! + I pierce a little wall of gloom + To mingle with the Day! + + I brothered with the things that pass, + Poor giddy Joy and puckered Grief; + I go to brother with the Grass + And with the sunning Leaf. + + Not Death can sheathe me in a shroud; + A joy-sword whetted keen with pain, + I join the armies of the Cloud + The Lightning and the Rain. + + Oh subtle in the sap athrill, + Athletic in the glad uplift, + A portion of the Cosmic Will, + I pierce the planet-drift. + + My God and I shall interknit + As rain and Ocean, breath and Air; + And oh, the luring thought of it + Is prayer! + + +_John G. Neihardt_ + +From "The Quest" (collected lyrics). + + + + +JAW + + +We all like a firm, straightforward chin provided it is not ruled by a +wagging, gossiping tongue. + + + This fellow's jaw is built so frail + That you could break it like a weed; + That fellow's chin retreats until + You'd think it in a wild stampede. + Defects like these but show how soon + The purpose droops, the spirits flag-- + We like a jaw that's made of steel, + Just so it's not inclined to wag. + + The lower jaw should be as strong + And changeless as a granite cliff; + Its very look should be a _thus_ + And not a _maybe, somehow, if;_ + Should mark a soul so resolute + It will not fear or cease or lag-- + We need a rugged mandible, + Provided we don't let it wag. + + Yes, with endurance, let it too + A tender modesty possess; + And to its grim strength let it add + The gracious power of gentleness. + Above all, let its might of deeds + Induce no loud or vulgar brag-- + We like to see a good, firm jaw, + But do not wish to hear it wag. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +THE CONQUEROR + + +Age is wise; it attempts nothing impossible. Youth is wiser; it believes +nothing impossible. Age conserves more; youth accomplishes more. Between +the two is an irreconcilable difference. + + "Crabbéd age and youth + Cannot live together," + +as Shakespeare says. And the sympathy of the world is with youth. It is +better so; for though many cherished things would be saved from +sacrifice if rash immaturity were more often checked, progress would be +stayed if life were dominated by sterile and repressive age. + + + Room for me, graybeards, room, make room! + Menace me not with your eyes of gloom; + Jostle me not from the place I seek, + For my arms are strong and your own are weak, + And if my plea to you be denied + I'll thrust your wearying forms aside. + Pity you? Yes, but I cannot stay; + I am the spirit of Youth; make way! + + Room for me, timid ones, room, make room! + Little I care for your fret and fume-- + I laugh at sorrow and jeer defeat; + To doubt and doubters I give the lie, + And fear is stilled as I swagger by, + And life's a fight and I seek the fray; + I am the spirit of Youth; make way! + + Room for me, mighty ones, room, make room! + I fear no power and dread no doom; + And you who curse me and you who bless + Alike must bow to my dauntlessness. + I topple the king from his golden throne, + I smash old idols of brass and stone, + I am not hampered by yesterday. + Room for the spirit of Youth; make way! + + Room for me, all of you, make me room! + Where the rifles clash and the cannon boom, + Where glory beckons or love or fame + I plunge me heedlessly in the game. + The old, the wary, the wise, the great, + They cannot stay me, for I am Fate, + The brave young master of all good play, + I am the spirit of Youth; make way! + + +_Berton Braley._ + +From "Things As They Are." + + + +[Illustration: BERTON BRALEY] + + + + +IS IT RAINING, LITTLE FLOWER? + + +"Sweet are the uses of adversity." They bring us benefits not otherwise +to be had. To mope because of them is foolish. Showers alternate with +sunshine, sorrows with pleasure, pain and weariness with comfort and +rest; but accept the one as necessary to the other, and you will enjoy +both. + + + Is it raining, little flower? + Be glad of rain. + Too much sun would wither thee, + 'Twill shine again. + The sky is very black, 'tis true, + But just behind it shines + The blue. + + Art thou weary, tender heart? + Be glad of pain; + In sorrow the sweetest things will grow + As flowers in the rain. + God watches and thou wilt have sun + When clouds their perfect work + Have done. + + +_Anonymous_. + + + + +GRADATIM + + +In the old fable the tortoise won the race from the hare, not by a +single burst of speed, but by plodding on steadily, tirelessly. In the +Civil War it was found that Lee's army could not be overwhelmed in a +single battle, but one Federal general perceived that it could be worn +down by time and the pressure of numbers. "I propose," said Grant, "to +fight it out on this line if it takes all summer." It took more than a +summer; it took nearly a year--but he did it. In the moral realm +likewise, "All things excellent are as difficult as they are rare." +Character is not attained over-night. The only way to develop moral +muscles is to exercise them patiently and long. + + + Heaven is not reached at a single bound; + But we build the ladder by which we rise + From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, + And we mount to its summit, round by round. + + I count this thing to be grandly true: + That a noble deed is a step towards God,-- + Lifting the soul from the common clod + To a purer air and a broader view. + + We rise by the things that are under feet; + By what we have mastered of good and gain; + By the pride deposed and the passion slain, + And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet. + + We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we trust, + When the morning calls us to life and light, + But our hearts grow weary, and, ere the night, + Our lives are trailing the sordid dust. + + We hope, we resolve, we aspire, we pray, + And we think that we mount the air on wings + Beyond the recall of sensual things, + While our feet still cling to the heavy clay. + + Wings for the angels, but feet for men! + We may borrow the wings to find the way-- + We may hope, and resolve, and aspire, and pray; + But our feet must rise, or we fall again. + + Only in dreams is a ladder thrown + From the weary earth to the sapphire walls; + But the dreams depart, and the vision falls, + And the sleeper wakes on his pillow of stone. + + Heaven is not reached at a single bound; + But we build the ladder by which we rise + From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, + And we mount to its summit, round by round. + + +_J.G. Holland._ + +From "Complete Poetical Writings." + + + + +RULES FOR THE ROAD + + +Ardor of sinew and spirit--what else do we need to make our journey +prosperous and happy? + + + Stand straight: + Step firmly, throw your weight: + The heaven is high above your head, + The good gray road is faithful to your tread. + + Be strong: + Sing to your heart a battle song: + Though hidden foemen lie in wait, + Something is in you that can smile at Fate. + + Press through: + Nothing can harm if you are true. + And when the night comes, rest: + The earth is friendly as a mother's breast. + + +_Edwin Markham._ + +From "The Gates of Paradise, and Other Poems." + + + + +LIFE + + +"What is life?" we ask. "Just one darned thing after another," the cynic +replies. Yes, a multiplicity of forces and interests, and each of them, +even the disagreeable, may be of real help to us. It's good for a dog, +says a shrewd philosopher, to be pestered with fleas; it keeps him from +thinking too much about being a dog. + + + What's life? A story or a song; + A race on any track; + A gay adventure, short or long, + A puzzling nut to crack; + A grinding task; a pleasant stroll; + A climb; a slide down hill; + A constant striving for a goal; + A cake; a bitter pill; + A pit where fortune flouts or stings; + A playground full of fun;-- + With many any of these things; + With others all in one. + What's life? To love the things we see; + The hills that touch the skies; + The smiling sea; the laughing lea; + The light in woman's eyes; + To work and love the work we do; + To play a game that's square; + To grin a bit when feeling blue; + With friends our joys to share; + To smile, though games be lost or won; + To earn our daily bread;-- + And when at last the day is done + To tumble into bed. + + +_Griffith Alexander,_ + +From "The Philadelphia Evening Public Ledger." + + + + +HOE YOUR ROW + + +We must not dream of harvests and neglect the toil that produces them. + + + De fiel's 'll soon be hummin' + Roun' de country high en low; + De harves' is a-comin': + Hoe yo' row! + Hoe yo' row! + + No time now fer de sleeper; + It's "Git up now, en go!" + It's de sower makes de reaper; + Hoe yo' row! + Hoe yo' row! + + It's sweet de birds is singin' + De songs you lovin' so; + But de harves' bells is ringin'; + Hoe yo' row! + Hoe yo' row! + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +From "The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +BORROWING TROUBLE + + +It is bad enough to cry over spilt milk. But many of us do worse; we cry +over milk that we think is going to be spilt. In line 1 sic=such; 2, +a'=all; 3, nae=no; 4, enow=enough; 5, hae=have; sturt=fret, trouble. + + + But human bodies are sic fools, + For a' their colleges an' schools, + That when nae real ills perplex them, + They mak enow themsels to vex them; + An' ay the less they hae to sturt them, + In like proportion less will hurt them. + + +_Robert Burns_ + + + + +UNDISMAYED + + +A convict explained to a visitor why he had been sent to the +penitentiary. "They can't put you in here for that!" the visitor +exclaimed. "They did," replied the convict. So smiling seems a futile +thing. Apparently it cannot get us anywhere--but it does. + + + He came up smilin'--used to say + He made his fortune that-a-way; + He had hard luck a-plenty, too, + But settled down an' fought her through; + An' every time he got a jolt + He jist took on a tighter holt, + Slipped back some when he tried to climb + But came up smilin' every time. + + He came up smilin'--used to git + His share o' knocks, but he had grit, + An' if they hurt he didn't set + Around th' grocery store an' fret. + He jist grabbed Fortune by th' hair + An' hung on till he got his share. + He had th' grit in him to stay + An' come up smilin' every day. + + He jist gripped hard an' all alone + Like a set bull-pup with a bone, + An' if he got shook loose, why then + He got up an' grabbed holt again. + He didn't have no time, he'd say, + To bother about yesterday, + An' when there was a prize to win + He came up smilin' an' pitched in. + + He came up smilin'--good fer him! + He had th' grit an' pluck an' vim, + So he's on Easy Street, an' durned + If I don't think his luck is earned! + No matter if he lost sometimes, + He's got th' stuff in him that climbs, + An' when his chance was mighty slim, + He came up smilin'--good fer him! + + +_James W. Foley._ + +From "Tales of the Trail." + + + + +A HERO + + +If defeat strengthens and sweetens character, it is not defeat at all, +but victory. + + + He sang of joy; whate'er he knew of sadness + He kept for his own heart's peculiar share: + So well he sang, the world imagined gladness + To be sole tenant there. + + For dreams were his, and in the dawn's fair shining, + His spirit soared beyond the mounting lark; + But from his lips no accent of repining + Fell when the days grew dark; + + And though contending long dread Fate to master, + He failed at last her enmity to cheat, + He turned with such a smile to face disaster + That he sublimed defeat. + + +_Florence Earle Coates._ + +From "Poems." + + + + +WILL + + +"I can resist anything but temptation," says a character in one of Oscar +Wilde's plays. Too many of us have exactly this strength of will. We +perhaps do not fall into gross crime, but because of our flabby +resolution our lives become purposeless, negative, negligible. No one +would miss us in particular if we were out of the way. + + + I + + O well for him whose will is strong! + He suffers, but he will not suffer long; + He suffers, but he cannot suffer wrong. + For him nor moves the loud world's random mock; + Nor all Calamity's hugest waves confound, + Who seems a promontory of rock, + That, compass'd round with turbulent sound, + In middle ocean meets the surging shock, + Tempest-buffeted, citadel-crown'd. + + + II + + But ill for him who, bettering not with time, + Corrupts the strength of heaven-descended Will, + And ever weaker grows thro' acted crime, + Or seeming-genial venial fault, + Recurring and suggesting still! + He seems as one whose footsteps halt, + Toiling in immeasurable sand, + And o'er a weary sultry land, + Far beneath a blazing vault, + Sown in a wrinkle of the monstrous hill + The city sparkles like a grain of salt. + + +_Alfred Tennyson._ + + + + +[Illustration: EVERARD JACK APPLETON] + + + + +FABLE + + +To be impressed by a thing merely because it is big is a human failing. +Yet our standard of judgment would be truer if we considered, instead, +the success of that thing in performing its own particular task. And +quality is better than quantity. The lioness in the old fable was being +taunted because she bore only one offspring at a time, not a numerous +litter. "It is true," she admitted; "but that one is a lion." + + + The mountain and the squirrel + Had a quarrel, + And the former called the latter "Little Prig"; + Bun replied, + "You are doubtless very big; + But all sorts of things and weather + Must be taken in together, + To make up a year + And a sphere. + And I think it no disgrace + To occupy my place. + If I'm not so large as you, + You are not so small as I, + And not half so spry. + I'll not deny you make + A very pretty squirrel track; + Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; + If I cannot carry forests on my back, + Neither can you crack a nut." + + +_Ralph Waldo Emerson._ + + + + +DUTY + + + When Duty comes a-knocking at your gate, + Welcome him in, for if you bid him wait, + He will depart only to come once more + And bring seven other duties to your door. + + +_Edwin Markham._ + +From "The Gates of Paradise, and Other Poems." + + + + +PRAYER FOR PAIN + + +"The thief steals from himself. The swindler swindles himself," says +Emerson. Apparent gain may be actual loss; material escape may be +spiritual imprisonment. Any one may idle; but the men who are not +content unless they climb the unscalable mountains or cross the +uncharted seas or bear the burdens that others shrink from, are the ones +who keep the heritage of the spirit undiminished. + + + I do not pray for peace nor ease, + Nor truce from sorrow: + No suppliant on servile knees + Begs here against to-morrow! + + Lean flame against lean flame we flash, + O, Fates that meet me fair; + Blue steel against blue steel we clash-- + Lay on, and I shall dare! + + But Thou of deeps the awful Deep, + Thou Breather in the clay, + Grant this my only prayer--Oh keep + My soul from turning gray! + + For until now, whatever wrought + Against my sweet desires, + My days were smitten harps strung taut, + My nights were slumbrous lyres. + + And howsoe'er the hard blow rang + Upon my battered shield, + Some lark-like, soaring spirit sang + Above my battlefield. + + And through my soul of stormy night + The zigzag blue flame ran. + I asked no odds--I fought my fight-- + Events against a man. + + But now--at last--the gray mist chokes + And numbs me. _Leave me pain! + Oh let me feel the biting strokes + That I may fight again!_ + + +_John G. Neihardt._ + +From "The Quest" (collected lyrics). + + + + +STEADFAST + + +No one ever has a trouble so great that some other person has not a +greater. The thought of the heroism shown by those more grievously +afflicted than we, helps us to bear our own ills patiently. + + + If I can help another bear an ill + By bearing mine with somewhat of good grace-- + Can take Fate's thrusts with not too long a face + And help him through his trials, then I WILL! + For do not braver men than I decline + To bow to troubles graver, far, than mine? + + Pain twists this body? Yes, but it shall not + Distort my soul, by all the gods that be! + And when it's done its worst, Pain's victory + Shall be an empty one! Whate'er my lot, + My banner, ragged, but nailed to the mast, + Shall fly triumphant to the very last! + + Others so much worse off than I have fought; + Have smiled--have met defeat with unbent head + They shame me into following where they led. + Can I ignore the lesson they have taught? + Strike hands with me! Dark is the way we go, + But souls-courageous line it--that I know! + + +_Everard Jack Appleton._ + +From "The Quiet Courage." + + + + +IF + + + If I were fire I'd burn the world away. + If I were wind I'd turn my storms thereon, + If I were water I'd soon let it drown. + +_Cecco Angolieri._ + + + If I were fire I'd seek the frozen North + And warm it till it blossomed fairly forth + And in the sweetness of its smiling mien + Resembled some soft southern garden scene. + And when the winter came again I'd seek + The chilling homes of lowly ones and meek + And do my small but most efficient part + To bring a wealth of comfort to the heart. + + If I were wind I'd turn my breath upon + The calm-bound mariner until, anon, + The eager craft on which he sailed should find + The harbor blest towards which it hath inclined. + And in the city streets, when summer's days + Were withering the souls with scorching rays, + I'd seek the fevered brow and aching eyes + And take to them a touch of Paradise. + + If I were water it would be my whim + To seek out all earth's desert places grim, + And turn each arid acre to a fair + Lush home of flowers and oasis rare. + Resolved in dew, I'd nestle in the rose. + As summer rain I'd ease the harvest woes, + And where a tear to pain would be relief, + A tear I'd be to kill the sting of grief. + + If I were gold, I'd seek the poor man's purse. + I'd try to win my way into the verse + Of some grand singer of Man's Brotherhood, + And prove myself so pure, so fraught with good. + That all the world would bless me for the cup + Of happiness I'd brought for all to sup. + And when at last my work of joy was o'er + I'd be content to die, and be no more! + + +_John Kendrick Bangs._ + +From "Songs of Cheer." + + + + +THE GIFTS OF GOD + + +Why are we never entirely satisfied? Why are we never at absolute peace +or rest? Many are the answers that have been made to this question. The +answer here given by the poet is that so richly is man endowed with +qualities and attributes that if contentment were added to them, he +would be satisfied with what he has, and would not strive for that which +is higher still--the fulfilment of his spiritual cravings. + + + When God at first made Man, + Having a glass of blessings standing by; + Let us (said He) pour on him all we can: + Let the world's riches, which disperséd lie, + Contract into a span. + + So strength first made a way; + Then beauty flow'd, then wisdom, honor, pleasure + When almost all was out, God made a stay, + Perceiving that alone, of all His treasure, + Rest in the bottom lay. + + For if I should (said He) + Bestow this jewel also on My creature, + He would adore My gifts instead of Me, + And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature. + So both should losers be. + + Yet let him keep the rest, + But keep them with repining restlessness: + Let him be rich and weary, that at least, + If goodness lead him not, yet weariness + May toss him to My breast. + + +_George Herbert._ + + + + +A PHILOSOPHER + + +"The web of our life is of mingled yarn, good and ill together," says +Shakespeare. It behooves us therefore to find the good and to make the +best of the ill. Two men were falling from an aeroplane. "I'll bet you +five dollars," said one, "that I hit the ground first." + + + To take things as they be-- + Thet's my philosophy. + No use to holler, mope, or cuss-- + If they was changed they might be wuss. + + If rain is pourin' down, + An' lightnin' buzzin' roun', + I ain't a-fearin' we'll be hit, + But grin thet I ain't out in it. + + If I got deep in debt-- + It hasn't happened yet-- + And owed a man two dollars, Gee! + Why I'd be glad it wasn't three. + + If some one come along, + And tried to do me wrong, + Why I should sort of take a whim + To thank the Lord I wasn't him. + + I never seen a night + So dark there wasn't light + Somewheres about if I took care + To strike a match and find out where. + + +_John Kendrick Bangs._ + +From "Songs of Cheer." + + + + +THE LIFE WITHOUT PASSION + + +A person may feel deeply without shouting his emotion to the skies, or +be strong without seizing occasions to exhibit his strength. In truth we +distrust the power which makes too much a display of itself. Let it +exert itself only to the point of securing the ends that are really +necessary. Restraint, self-control are in truth more mighty than might +unshackled, just as a self-possessed opponent is more dangerous than a +frenzied one. Moreover, there is a moral side to the question. A good +quality, if abused or allowed free sway, becomes a force for evil and +does its owner more harm than if he had not possessed it in the first +place. + + + They that have power to hurt, and will do none, + That do not do the thing they most do show, + Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, + Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow,-- + + They rightly do inherit heaven's graces, + And husband nature's riches from expense; + They are the lords and owners of their faces, + Others, but stewards of their excellence. + + The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, + Though to itself it only live and die; + But if that flower with base infection meet, + The basest weed outbraves his dignity: + + For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; + Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE + + +"I'd rather be right than President," said Henry Clay. It is to men who +are animated by this spirit that the greatest satisfaction in life +comes. For true blessedness does not lie far off and above us. It is +close at hand. Booker T. Washington once told a story of a ship that had +exhausted its supply of fresh water and signaled its need to a passing +vessel. The reply was, "Send down your buckets where you are." Thinking +there was some misunderstanding, the captain repeated his signal, only +to be answered as before. This time he did as he was bidden and secured +an abundance of fresh water. His ship was opposite the mouth of a mighty +river which still kept its current unmingled with the waters of the +ocean. + + + How happy is he born and taught + That serveth not another's will; + Whose armor is his honest thought + And simple truth his utmost skill! + + Whose passions not his masters are, + Whose soul is still prepared for death, + Not tied unto the world with care + Of public fame or private breath; + + Who envies none that chance doth raise + Or vice; who never understood + How deepest wounds are given by praise + Nor rules of state, but rules of good; + + Who hath his life from rumors freed, + Whose conscience is his strong retreat; + Whose state can neither flatterers feed, + Nor ruin make accusers great; + + Who God doth late and early pray + More of his grace than gifts to lend; + And entertains the harmless day + With a well-chosen book or friend; + + --This man is freed from servile bands + Of hope to rise or fear to fall; + Lord of himself, though not of lands; + And having nothing, yet hath all. + + +_Sir Henry Wotton._ + + + + +ESSENTIALS + + +The things here named are essential to a happy and successful life. They +may not be the only essentials. + + + Roll up your sleeves, lad, and begin; + Disarm misfortune with a grin; + Let discontent not wag your chin-- + Let gratitude. + + Don't try to find things all askew; + Don't be afraid of what is new; + Nor banish as unsound, untrue, + A platitude. + + If folks don't act as you would choose + Remember life is varied; use + Your common sense; don't get the blues; + Show latitude. + + Sing though in quavering sharps and flats, + Love though the folk you love are cats, + Work though you're worn and weary--that's + The attitude. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +THE STONE REJECTED + + +The story here poetically retold of the great Florentine sculptor shows +how much a lofty spirit may make of unpromising material. + + + For years it had been trampled in the street + Of Florence by the drift of heedless feet-- + The stone that star-touched Michael Angelo + Turned to that marble loveliness we know. + + You mind the tale--how he was passing by + When the rude marble caught his Jovian eye, + That stone men had dishonored and had thrust + Out to the insult of the wayside dust. + He stooped to lift it from its mean estate, + And bore it on his shoulder to the gate, + Where all day long a hundred hammers rang. + And soon his chisel round the marble sang, + And suddenly the hidden angel shone: + It had been waiting prisoned in the stone. + + Thus came the cherub with the laughing face + That long has lighted up an altar-place. + + +_Edwin Markham._ + +From "The Gates of Paradise, and Other Poems." + + + + +GOOD DEEDS + + +The influence of good deeds usually extends far beyond the limits we can +see or trace; but as well not have the power to do them as not use it. + + + How far that little candle throws his beams! + So shines a good deed in a naughty world. + Heaven doth with us as we with torches do; + Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues + Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike + As if we had them not. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +YOU MAY COUNT THAT DAY + + +A class of little settlement girls besought Mrs. George Herbert Palmer, +one insufferable summer morning, to tell them how to be happy. "I'll +give you three rules," she said, "and you must keep them every day for a +week. First, commit something good to memory each day. Three or four +words will do, just a pretty bit of poem, or a Bible verse. Do you +understand?" A girl jumped up. "I know; you want us to learn something +we'd be glad to remember if we went blind." Mrs. Palmer was relieved; +these children understood. She gave the three rules--memorize something +good each day, see something beautiful each day, do something helpful +each day. When the children reported at the end of the week, not a +single day had any of them lost. But hard put to it to obey her? Indeed +they had been. One girl, kept for twenty-four hours within squalid +home-walls by a rain, had nevertheless seen two beautiful things--a +sparrow taking a bath in the gutter, and a gleam of sunlight on a baby's +hair. + + + If you sit down at set of sun + And count the acts that you have done, + And, counting, find + One self-denying deed, one word + That eased the heart of him who heard-- + One glance most kind, + That fell like sunshine where it went-- + Then you may count that day well spent. + + But if, through all the livelong day, + You've cheered no heart, by yea or nay-- + If, through it all + You've nothing done that you can trace + That brought the sunshine to one face-- + No act most small + That helped some soul and nothing cost-- + Then count that day as worse than lost. + + +_George Eliot_. + + + + +SADNESS AND MERRIMENT + +(ADAPTED FROM "THE MERCHANT OF VENICE") + + +In this passage Antonio states that he is overcome by a sadness he +cannot account for. Salarino tells him that the mental attitude is +everything; that mirth is as easy as gloom; that nature in her +freakishness makes some men laugh at trifles until their eyes become +mere slits, yet leaves others dour and unsmiling before jests that would +convulse even the venerable Nestor. Gratiano maintains that Antonio is +too absorbed in worldly affairs, and that he must not let his spirits +grow sluggish or irritable. + + + _ANT._ In sooth, I know not why I am so sad: + It wearies me; you say it wearies you; + But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, + What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, + I am to learn. + + _Salar_. Then let's say you are sad + Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy + For you to laugh and leap, and say you are merry, + Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus, + Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time: + Some that will evermore peep through their eyes + And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper, + And other of such vinegar aspect + That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, + Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. + + _Gra_. You look not well, Signior Antonio; + You have too much respect upon the world: + They lose it that do buy it with much care: + Believe me, you are marvelously changed. + + _Ant_. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano + A stage where every man must play a part, + And mine a sad one. + + _Gra_. Let me play the fool: + With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come, + And let my liver rather heat with wine + Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. + Why should a man whose blood is warm within + Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? + Sleep when he wakes, and creep into a jaundice + By being peevish? Fare ye well awhile: + I'll end my exhortation after dinner. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +APPRECIATION + + + Life's a bully good game with its kicks and cuffs-- + Some smile, some laugh, some bluff; + Some carry a load too heavy to bear + While some push on with never a care, + But the load will seldom heavy be + When I appreciate you and you appreciate me. + + He who lives by the side of the road + And helps to bear his brother's load + May seem to travel lone and long + While the world goes by with a merry song, + But the heart grows warm and sorrows flee + When I appreciate you and you appreciate me. + + When I appreciate you and you appreciate me, + The road seems short to victory; + It buoys one up and calls "Come on," + And days grow brighter with the dawn; + There is no doubt or mystery + When I appreciate you and you appreciate me. + + It's the greatest thought in heaven or earth-- + It helps us know our fellow's worth; + There'd be no wars or bitterness, + No fear, no hate, no grasping; yes, + It makes work play, and the careworn free + When I appreciate you and you appreciate me. + + +_William Judson Kibby,_ + + + + +KEEP SWEET + + +Even the direst catastrophes may be softened by our attitude to them. +Charles II said to those who had gathered about his deathbed: "You'll +pardon any little lapses, gentlemen. I've never done this thing before." + + + Don't be foolish and get sour when things don't just come your way-- + Don't you be a pampered baby and declare, "Now I won't play!" + Just go grinning on and bear it; + Have you heartache? Millions share it, + If you earn a crown, you'll wear it-- + Keep sweet. + + Don't go handing out your troubles to your busy fellow-men-- + If you whine around they'll try to keep from meeting you again; + Don't declare the world's "agin" you, + Don't let pessimism win you, + Prove there's lots of good stuff in you-- + Keep sweet. + + If your dearest hopes seem blighted and despair looms into view, + Set your jaw and whisper grimly, "Though they're false, yet I'll be true." + Never let your heart grow bitter; + With your lips to Hope's transmitter, + Hear Love's songbirds bravely twitter, + "Keep sweet." + + Bless your heart, this world's a good one, and will always help a man; + Hate, misanthropy, and malice have no place in Nature's plan. + Help your brother there who's sighing. + Keep his flag of courage flying; + Help him try--'twill keep you trying-- + Keep sweet. + + +_Strickland W. Gillilan._ + + + + +MORALITY + + +We can't always, even when accomplishing, have the ardor of +accomplishment; we can only hold to the purpose formed in more inspired +hours. After a work is finished, even though it be a good work which our +final judgment will approve, we are likely to be oppressed for a time by +the anxieties we have passed through; the comfort of effort has left us, +and we recall our dreams, our intentions, beside which our actual +achievement seems small. In such moments we should remember that just +after the delivery of the Gettysburg Address Lincoln believed it an +utter failure. Yet the address was a masterpiece of commemorative +oratory. + + + We cannot kindle when we will + The fire which in the heart resides; + The spirit bloweth and is still, + In mystery our soul abides. + But tasks in hours of insight will'd + Can be through hours of gloom fulfill'd + + With aching hands and bleeding feet + We dig and heap, lay stone on stone; + We bear the burden and the heat + Of the long day and wish 'twere done. + Not till the hours of light return, + All we have built do we discern. + + +_Matthew Arnold_ + + + + +A HYMN TO HAPPINESS + + +A man who owed Artemus Ward two hundred dollars fell into such hard +circumstances that Artemus offered to knock off half the debt. "I won't +let you outdo me in generosity," said the man; "I'll knock off the other +half." Similarly, when we resolve to live down our causes of gloom, fate +comes to our aid and removes most of them altogether. + + + Let us smile along together, + Be the weather + What it may. + Through the waste and wealth of hours, + Plucking flowers + By the way. + Fragrance from the meadows blowing, + Naught of heat or hatred knowing, + Kindness seeking, kindness sowing, + Not to-morrow, but to-day. + + Let us sing along, beguiling + Grief to smiling + In the song. + With the promises of heaven + Let us leaven + The day long, + Gilding all the duller seemings + With the roselight of our dreamings, + Splashing clouds with sunlight's gleamings, + Here and there and all along. + + Let us live along, the sorrow + Of to-morrow + Never heed. + In the pages of the present + What is pleasant + Only read. + Bells but pealing, never knelling, + Hearts with gladness ever swelling. + Tides of charity up welling + In our every dream and deed. + + Let us hope along together, + Be the weather + What it may, + Where the sunlight glad is shining, + Not repining + By the way. + Seek to add our meed and measure + To the old Earth's joy and treasure, + Quaff the crystal cup of pleasure, + Not to-morrow, but to-day. + + +_James W. Foley_. + +From "The Voices of Song." + + + + +OPPORTUNITY + + +Procrastination is not only the thief of time; it is also the grave of +opportunity. + + + In an old city by the storied shores + Where the bright summit of Olympus soars, + A cryptic statue mounted towards the light-- + Heel-winged, tip-toed, and poised for instant flight. + + "O statue, tell your name," a traveler cried, + And solemnly the marble lips replied: + "Men call me Opportunity: I lift + My winged feet from earth to show how swift + My flight, how short my stay-- + How Fate is ever waiting on the way." + + "But why that tossing ringlet on your brow?" + "That men may seize me any moment: _Now_, + NOW is my other name: to-day my date: + O traveler, to-morrow is too late!" + + +_Edwin Markham._ + +From "The Gates of Paradise, and Other Poems." + + + + +TO A YOUNG MAN + + +"Jones write a book! Impossible! I knew his father." This attitude +towards distinction of any sort, whether in authorship or in the field +of action, is characteristic of many of us. We think transcendent +ability is entirely above and apart from the things of ordinary life. +Yet genius itself has been defined as common sense in an uncommon +degree. The great men are human. Shakespeare remembered this when he +said, "I think the king is but a man as I am." We should take heart at +the thought that since the great are like us, we may develop ourselves +until we are like them. + + + The great were once as you. + They whom men magnify to-day + Once groped and blundered on life's way, + Were fearful of themselves, and thought + By magic was men's greatness wrought. + They feared to try what they could do; + Yet Fame hath crowned with her success + The selfsame gifts that you possess. + + The great were young as you, + Dreaming the very dreams you hold, + Longing yet fearing to be bold, + Doubting that they themselves possessed + The strength and skill for every test, + Uncertain of the truths they knew, + Not sure that they could stand to fate + With all the courage of the great. + + Then came a day when they + Their first bold venture made, + Scorning to cry for aid. + They dared to stand to fight alone, + Took up the gauntlet life had thrown, + Charged full-front to the fray, + Mastered their fear of self, and then + Learned that our great men are but men. + + Oh, Youth, go forth and do! + You, too, to fame may rise; + You can be strong and wise. + Stand up to life and play the man-- + You can if you'll but think you can; + The great were once as you. + You envy them their proud success? + 'Twas won with gifts that you possess. + + +_Edgar A. Guest._ + + + + +SLOGAN + + +Some men want ideal conditions with pay in advance before they will +work. But the world does not want such men, and has little place for +them. + + + Don't prate about what is your right, + But bare your fists and show your might; + Life is another man to fight + Catch as catch can. + + Don't talk of Life as scurvy Fate, + Who gave you favors just too late, + Or Luck who threw you smiles for bait + Before he ran. + + Don't whine and wish that you were dead, + But wrestle for your daily bread, + And afterward let it be said + "He was a man." + + +_Jane M'Lean._ + + + + +SMILES + + +Smiles bring out the latent energies within us, as water reveals the +bright colors in the stone it flows over. + + + Smile a little, smile a little, + As you go along, + Not alone when life is pleasant, + But when things go wrong. + Care delights to see you frowning, + Loves to hear you sigh; + Turn a smiling face upon her, + Quick the dame will fly. + + Smile a little, smile a little, + All along the road; + Every life must have its burden, + Every heart its load. + Why sit down in gloom and darkness, + With your grief to sup? + As you drink Fate's bitter tonic + Smile across the cup. + + Smile upon the troubled pilgrims + Whom you pass and meet; + Frowns are thorns, and smiles are blossoms + Oft for weary feet. + Do not make the way seem harder + By a sullen face, + Smile a little, smile a little, + Brighten up the place. + + Smile upon your undone labor; + Not for one who grieves + O'er his task, waits wealth or glory; + He who smiles achieves. + Though you meet with loss and sorrow + In the passing years, + Smile a little, smile a little, + Even through your tears. + + +_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._ + +From "Poems of Power." + + + +[Illustration: ELLA WHEELER WILCOX] + + + + +SIT DOWN, SAD SOUL + + +"A watched pot never boils." Though the pot be the pot of happiness, the +proverb still holds true. + + + Sit down, sad soul, and count + The moments flying: + Come,--tell the sweet amount + That's lost by sighing! + How many smiles--a score? + Then laugh, and count no more; + For day is dying. + + Lie down, sad soul, and sleep, + And no more measure + The flight of Time, nor weep + The loss of leisure; + But here, by this lone stream, + Lie down with us and dream + Of starry treasure. + + We dream: do thou the same: + We love--forever; + We laugh; yet few we shame, + The gentle, never. + Stay, then, till Sorrow dies; + _Then_--hope and happy skies + Are thine forever! + + +_Bryan Waller Procter._ + + + + +SONG OF ENDEAVOR + + +Don Quixote discovered that there are no eggs in last year's +bird's-nests. Many of us waste our time in regrets for the past, without +seeming to perceive that hope lies only in endeavor for the future. + + + 'Tis not by wishing that we gain the prize, + Nor yet by ruing, + But from our falling, learning how to rise, + And tireless doing. + + The idols broken, nor our tears and sighs, + May yet restore them. + Regret is only for fools; the wise + Look but before them. + + Nor ever yet Success was wooed with tears; + To notes of gladness + Alone the fickle goddess turns her ears, + She hears not sadness. + + The heart thrives not in the dull rain and mist + Of gloomy pining. + The sweetest flowers are the flowers sun-kissed, + Where glad light's shining. + + Look not behind thee; there is only dust + And vain regretting. + The lost tide ebbs; in the next flood thou must + Learn, by forgetting. + + For the lost chances be ye not distressed + To endless weeping; + Be not the thrush that o'er the empty nest + Is vigil keeping. + + But in new efforts our regrets to-day + To stillness whiling, + Let us in some pure purpose find the way + To future smiling. + + +_James W. Foley._ + +From "The Voices of Song." + + + + +KEEP A-GOIN'! + + +Some men fail and quit. Some succeed and quit. The wise refuse to quit, +whether they fail or succeed. + + + Ef you strike a thorn or rose, + Keep a-goin'! + Ef it hails, or ef it snows, + Keep a-goin! + 'Taint no use to sit an' whine, + When the fish ain't on yer line; + Bait yer hook an' keep a-tryin'-- + Keep a-goin'! + + When the weather kills yer crop, + Keep a-goin'! + When you tumble from the top, + Keep a-goin'! + S'pose you're out of every dime, + Bein' so ain't any _crime;_ + Tell the world you're feelin' _prime_-- + Keep a-goin'! + + When it looks like all is up, + Keep a-goin'! + Drain the sweetness from the cup, + Keep a-goin'! + See the wild birds on the wing, + Hear the bells that sweetly ring, + When you feel like sighin' _sing--_ + Keep a-goin'! + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +From "The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +WHEN EARTH'S LAST PICTURE IS PAINTED + + +What is it that a human being wants? Most of us have something that we +like to do more than anything else. We are not free to do it as we wish. +We are handicapped by the need to earn a living, by physical weariness, +by the carpings and scoffs of the envious, by the limited time we have +at our disposal. But underneath all this is _the spirit of work_--the +desire to take up our task for its own sake alone, to give our whole +selves to it, to carry it through, not in some partial way, but in +accordance with the fulness of our dream. We want to be free from +distractions and interruptions; if we are driven at all, we want it to +be by our own inner promptings, not by obligation or necessity. Of +course these favorable, these ideal conditions belong to heaven, not to +earth. Kipling here explains what they will mean to the artist, the +painter; but in doing so he expresses the longings of the true workman +of whatsoever sort--he sums up the true spirit of work. + + + When Earth's last picture is painted and the tubes are twisted and dried, + When the oldest colors have faded, and the youngest critic has died, + We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it--lie down for an aeon or two, + Till the Master of All Good Workmen shall set us to work anew. + + And those that were good will be happy: they shall sit in a golden chair; + They shall splash at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comets' hair. + They shall find real saints to draw from--Magdalene, Peter, and Paul; + They shall work for an age at a sitting and never be tired at all! + + And only the Master shall praise us, and only the Master shall blame; + And no one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame, + But each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star, + Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of Things as They are! + + +_Rudyard Kipling._ + +From "Rudyard Kipling's Verse, 1885-1918." + + + + +INDEX BY AUTHORS + + + +A + +ADAMS, ST. CLAIR. Born in Arkansas, 1883. University education; European + travel; has resided at one time or another in nearly all sections of + America. Miscellaneous literary and editorial work. _A Problem to Be + Solved; Essentials; Good Intentions; It Won't Stay Blowed; Jaw; Never + Trouble Trouble; Ownership; The Rectifying Years; The Syndicated + Smile; Tit for Tat; Wanted--a Man_. + +ALEXANDER, GRIFFITH. Born at Liverpool, Eng., Jan. 15, 1868. Educated + in public schools; came to the United States 1887; been connected with + newspapers in great variety of capacities; President of the American + Press Humorists. _Gray Days; Life; The Grumpy Guy_. + +ANONYMOUS. _De Sunflower Ain't de Daisy; Hope; I'm Glad; Is It Raining, + Little Flower?; Keep On Keepin' On; Playing the Game; To the Men Who + Lose_. + +APPLETON, EVERARD JACK. Born at Charleston, W. Va., Mar. 24, 1872. Very + little schooling, but had advantages of home literary influences and a + good library; at seventeen went into newspaper work in his home town; + later went to Cincinnati, and worked on the daily _Tribune_, then on + the _Commercial Gazette_; later connected with the Cincinnati + _Times-Star_. For five years he wrote daily column of verse and humor; + besides his newspaper work, he has written over one hundred and fifty + stories, hundreds of poems, many songs, and innumerable jokes, + jingles, cheer-up wall cards, and the like. Author of two books of + poetry, "The Quiet Courage" and "With the Colors." With such intense + work his health broke down, and for a number of years he has been a + chronic invalid, but his cheer and his faith are as bright as ever. + _Hold Fast; Meetin' Trouble; Steadfast; The Fighting Failure; The One; + The Woman Who Understands; Unafraid; What Dark Days Do_. + + +ARNOLD, MATTHEW. Born at Laleham, Middlesex, Eng., Dec. 24, 1822; died +at Liverpool, Apr. 15, 1888. Educated at Winchester, Rugby, and Oxford. +Became Lord Lansdowne's secretary 1847; became inspector of schools +1851; appointed Professor of Poetry at Oxford 1857; continental tours to +inspect foreign educational systems 1859 and 1865; assigned a pension of +£250 by Gladstone 1883; lecture trips to America 1883 and 1886; retired +as inspector of schools 1886. Among his works are "Empedocles on Etna, +and Other Poems," "Essays in Criticism" (first and second series), +"Culture and Anarchy," "Literature and Dogma," "Discourses in America," +and "On the Study of Celtic Literature." _Morality_; _Self-Dependence_. + + + +B + +BANGS, JOHN KENDRICK. Born at Yonkers, N.Y., May 27, 1862; died Jan. 21, + 1922. Received Ph.B. degree from Columbia 1883; associate editor of + _Life_ 1884-8; has since served in various editorial capacities on + _Harper's Magazine, Harper's Weekly_, and the _Metropolitan Magazine_. + Among his books are "The Idiot," "A House Boat on the Styx," "The + Bicyclers, and Other Farces," "Songs of Cheer," "Line o' Cheer for + Each Day o' the Year," "The Foothills of Parnassus," "A Quest for + Song," and "The Cheery Way." _A Philosopher_; _A Smiling Paradox_; + _If_; _The Kingdom of Man_; _The Richer Mines_; _The Word_; _To + Melancholy_. + +BARBAULD, ANNA LETITIA AIKIN. Born at Kibworth-Harcourt, Leicestershire, + Eng., June 20, 1743; died at Stoke-Newington, Mar. 9, 1825. Poet and + essayist. _Life and Death_. + +BENÉT, WILLIAM ROSE. Born at Fort Hamilton, New York Harbor, Feb. 2, 1886. + Graduated from Albany, N.Y., Academy 1904; Ph.B. from Sheffield + Scientific School of Yale University 1907. Reader for _Century + Magazine_ 1907-11; assistant editor of the same 1911-14. 2d Lieutenant + U.S. Air Service 1914-18. Assistant editor of the _Nation's Business_ + 1919. His books are "Merchants from Cathay," "The Falconer of God," + "The Great White Wall," and "The Burglar of the Zodiac." _His Ally_; + _Mistress Fate_. + +BENJAMIN, PARK. Born at Demerara, British Guiana, Aug. 14, 1809; died at + New York City, Sept. 12, 1864. Connected with various periodicals. + _Press On_. + +BINNS, HENRY BRYAN. _Ultimate Act_. + +BRADFORD, GAMALIEL. Born at Boston, Mass., Oct. 9, 1863; privately + tutored till 1882; entered Harvard College 1882 but was obliged to + leave almost immediately because of ill health. Contributor of essays + and poems to various magazines; has a remarkable insight into the + characters of historical figures, and in a few pages reveals their + inner souls. Among his books are "Types of American Character," "A + Pageant of Life," "The Private Tutor," "Between Two Masters," "Matthew + Porter," "Lee, the American," "Confederate Portraits," "Union + Portraits," "A Naturalist of Souls," and "Portraits of American + Women." _God; Heinelet; The Joy of Living_. + +BRALEY, BERTON. Born at Madison, Wis., Jan. 29, 1882. Graduated from the + University of Wisconsin 1905; reporter on the Butte, Mont., _Inter + Mountain_ 1905-6; later with the Butte _Evening News_ and the + Billings, Mont., _Gazette_; with the New York _Evening Mail_ 1909; + associate editor of _Puck_ 1910; free lance writer since 1910; special + correspondent in Northern Europe 1915-16; in France, England, and + Germany 1918-19. Among his books are "Sonnets of a Freshman," "Songs + of a Workaday World," "Things as They Are," "A Banjo at Armageddon," + "In Camp and Trench," and "Buddy Ballads." _Opportunity; Playing the + Game; Start Where You Stand; Success; The Conqueror_. + +BRANCH, ANNA HEMPSTEAD. Born at New London, Conn. Graduated at Adelphi + Academy, Brooklyn, 1893, from Smith College 1897, and from the + American Academy of Dramatic Art, New York, 1900. Among her books are + "The Heart of the Road," "The Shoes That Danced," "Rose of the Wind," + and "Nimrod, and Other Poems." _Gladness_. + +BROWNING, ELIZABETH BARRETT. Born at Coxhoe Hall, Durham, Eng., Mar. 6, + 1806; died at Florence, Italy, June 30, 1861. A semi-invalid all her + life. Married Robert Browning 1846, and resided in Italy for the + remainder of her life. Author of "Casa Guidi Windows," "Aurora Leigh," + and "Sonnets from the Portuguese." _Cares_. + +BROWNING, ROBERT. Born at Camberwell, Eng., May 7, 1812; died at Venice, + Italy, Dec. 12, 1889. Educated at home and at London University; well + trained in music. Travel in Russia 1833; considered diplomatic career; + trip to Italy 1838; married Elizabeth Barrett 1846, and during her + life time resided chiefly at Florence, Italy. After her death in 1861, + he lived in London and Venice. Among his works are "Pauline," + "Paracelsus," "Strafford," "Sordello," "A Blot in the 'Scutcheon," + "Colombe's Birthday," "Dramatis Personae," "A Soul's Tragedy," "Luna," + "Men and Women," "The Ring and the Book," "Fifine at the Fair," "The + Inn-Album," "Dramatic Idyls," and "Asolando." _Man, Bird, and God; + Pippa's Song; Prospice; Rabbi Ben Ezra_. + +BURNS, ROBERT. Born at Alloway, near Ayr, Scotland, Jan. 25, 1759; died + at Dumfries, Scotland, July 21, 1796. Received little education; + drudgery on a farm at Mt. Oliphant 1766-77; on a farm at Lochlea + 1777-84, during which time there was a period of loose living and bad + companionship; at the death of his father he and his brother Gilbert + rented Mossgiel farm near Mauchline, where many of his best poems were + written; winter of 1786-7 he visited Edinburgh, and was received into + the best society; winter of 1787-8 revisited Edinburgh but rather + coolly received by Edinburgh society; 1788 married Jean Armour, by + whom he had previously had several children. Took farm at Ellisland + 1788; became an excise officer 1789. Removed to Dumfries 1791; later + years characterized by depression and poverty. Some of his best-known + poems are "The Holy Fair," "The Cotter's Saturday Night," and "Tam + O'Shanter"; wrote many of the most popular songs in the English + language. _A Man's a Man for A' That; Borrowing Trouble; The Gift_. + +BYRON, LORD (George Gordon Byron). Born at London, Jan. 22, 1788; died + at Missolonghi, Greece, Apr. 19, 1824, and buried in parish church at + Hucknell, near Newstead. Born with a deformed foot; much petted as a + child; inherited title and estate at death of his granduncle, William, + fifth Lord Byron, 1798. Studied at Harrow and at Cambridge University, + receiving M.A. degree 1808. Traveled in Portugal, Spain, Greece, and + Turkey 1809-11. In 1815 married Anna Milbanke, who left him 1816. In + 1816 met Miss Clairmont at Geneva, who bore him an illegitimate + daughter, Allegra, 1817; in 1819 met Teresa, Countess Guiccioli, at + Venice, and remained with her during his stay in Italy. Joined the + Greek insurgents 1823, and died of a fever in their cause of freedom + from the Turks. Among his works are "Hours of Idleness," "English + Bards and Scotch Reviewers," "Childe Harold," "The Giaour," "The + Corsair," "The Prisoner of Chillon," "Cain," "Manfred," and "Don + Juan." _Serenity_. + + + +C + +CARLYLE, THOMAS. Born at Ecclefechan, Dumfriesshire, Scotland, Dec. 4, + 1795; died at Chelsea, London, Feb. 4, 1881. Educated at Annan Grammar + School and Edinburgh University; mathematical tutor at Annan 1814; + teacher at Kirkcaldy 1816; went to Edinburgh to study law 1819; tutor + in Buller family 1822-4; married Jane Welsh 1826; lived successively + at Comely Bank, Edinburgh, and Craigenputtoch 1828-34; moved to + Chelsea 1834; and remained there the rest of his life. Elected Lord + Rector of Edinburgh University 1865. Among his works are "Life of + Schiller," "Sartor Resartus," "The French Revolution," "Chartism," + "Heroes, Hero Worship, and the Heroic in History," "Life and Letters + of Oliver Cromwell," "Life of Sterling," "Latter-Day Pamphlets," and + "Frederick the Great." _To-Day_. + +CLOUGH, ARTHUR HUGH. Born at Liverpool, Eng., Jan. 1, 1819; died at + Florence, Italy, Nov. 13, 1861. Went to school at Rugby and Oxford; + accepted headship of University Hall, London, 1849; came to America + 1852; health began to fail 1859. _Say Not the Struggle Nought + Availeth_. + +COATES, FLORENCE EARLE. Born at Philadelphia, Pa.; educated at private + schools and at the Convent of the Sacred Heart, France; studied also + at Brussels. President of the Browning Society of Philadelphia + 1895-1903 and 1907-8; a founder of the Contemporary Club, + Philadelphia, 1886; member of the Society of Mayflower Descendants, + and Colonial Dames of America. Among her books are "Mine and Thine," + "Lyrics of Life," and "The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems." _A Hero; + Courage; Per Aspera_. + +COOKE, EDMUND VANCE. Born at Port Dover, Canada, June 5, 1866. Educated + principally at common schools. He began to give lecture entertainments + 1893, and has been for years one of the most popular lyceum men before + the public. Frequent contributor of poems, stories, and articles to + the leading magazines. His poem "How Did You Die?" has attained a + nation-wide popularity. Among his books are "Just Then Something + Happened," "The Story Club," "Told to the Little Tot," "Chronicles of + the Little Tot," "I Rule the House," "Impertinent Poems," "Little, + Songs for Two," "Rimes to be Read," "The Uncommon Commoner," and "A + Patch of Pansies." _How Did You Die?; Laugh a Little Bit_. + +CROSBY, ERNEST HOWARD. Born at New York City, Nov. 4, 1856; died there + Jan. 3, 1907. Graduated from University of New York 1876, and from + Columbia Law School 1878; lawyer in New York 1878-89; judge of + international court at Alexandria, Egypt, 1889-94; returned to New + York 1894, and interested himself in social reform. Among his books + are "Plain Talk in Psalm and Parable," "Captain Jenks, Hero," "Swords + and Plowshares," "Tolstoi and His Message," and "Labor and Neighbor." + _Life and Death_. + + + +D + +DEKKER, THOMAS. Born at London, about 1570; died about 1641. Little is + known of his life; imprisoned several times; had literary quarrels + with Ben Jonson. Lived in the great period of the English drama (the + age of Shakespeare); wrote many of his plays in collaboration with + other writers of the period. Among his best-known plays are "The + Shoe-makers' Holiday" and "Old Fortunatus." _The Happy Heart_. + +DRAKE, JOSEPH RODMAN. Born at New York City, Aug. 7, 1795; died there + Sept. 21, 1820. Author of "The Culprit Fay" and "The American Flag." + _The Man Who Frets at Worldly Strife_. + + + +E + +ELIOT, GEORGE (Mary Ann Evans Lewes Cross). Born at Arbury Farm, + Warwickshire, Eng., Nov. 22, 1819; died at Chelsea, London, Dec. 22, + 1880. Educated at Nuneaton and Coventry; assistant editor of the + _Westminster Review_ 1851-3. Lived with George Henry Lewes from 1854 + until his death in 1878; married John Walter Cross in 1880. Among her + books (mostly novels) are "Adam Bede," "The Mill on the Floss," "Silas + Marner," "Romola," "Felix Holt," "The Spanish Gypsy," "Middlemarch," + "Daniel Deronda," and "Impressions of Theophrastus Such." _You May + Count That Day_. + +EMERSON, RALPH WALDO. Born at Boston, Mass., May 25, 1803; died at + Concord, Mass., Apr. 27, 1882. Graduated at Harvard College 1821, + working his way; taught school; began to study for the ministry 1823; + licensed to preach 1826; trip to the South for his health 1827-8; + Unitarian minister in Boston 1829-32; European travel 1832-3; settled + at Concord 1834; lectured extensively for over thirty years. + Contributed to the _Dial_ 1840-4; visited Europe 1847-8 and 1872-3. + Lectured at Harvard 1868-70. Some of his works are "Nature," "The + American Scholar," "Essays" (first and second series), "Representative + Men," "English Traits," "The Conduct of Life," and "Society and + Solitude." _Duty; Fable_. + + + +F + +FOLEY, JAMES WILLIAM. Born at St. Louis, Mo., Feb. 4, 1874. Educated at + the University of South Dakota. Member of Masonic Order and Past Grand + Master of Masons. Had early ranch experience; knew Theodore Roosevelt + during his ranching days. Began newspaper work on the Bismarck, N. + Dak., _Tribune_ 1892. During the Great War he served seventeen months + in army camps as an entertainer and inspirational lecturer, traveling + fifty thousand miles and addressing a quarter of a million men. For + fifteen years he has been lecturing and writing. His work includes + books of verse, humorous sketches, and plays. At present associate + editor of the Pasadena, Cal., _Evening Post._ Among his books are + "Boys and Girls," "Tales of the Trail," "Friendly Rhymes," "Voices of + Song," "Letters of William Green," and "Songs of Schooldays." _A Hymn + to Happiness; A Toast to Merriment; Days of Cheer; Friends of Mine; + One of These Days; Song of Endeavor; Undismayed_. + +FOSS, SAM WALTER. Born at Candia, N.H., June 19, 1858; died in 1911. + Graduated from Brown University 1882; editor 1883-93; general writer + 1893-8; librarian at Somerville, Mass., from 1898; lecturer and reader + of his own poems. Among his books are "Back Country Poems," "Whiffs + from Wild Meadows," "Dreams in Homespun," "Songs of War and Peace," + and "Songs of the Average Man." _The Firm of Grin and Barrett_, 118; + _The House by the Side of the Road_, 2. + +FOWLER, ELLEN THORNEYCROFT (The Honorable Mrs. Alfred Felkin). Elder + daughter of 1st Viscount Wolverhampton; married to Alfred Laurence + Felkin 1903. Among her books are "Verses Grave and Gay," "Verses Wise + and Otherwise," "Cupid's Garden," "Concerning Isabel Carnaby," "A + Double Thread," "The Farringdons," "Love's Argument," "Place and + Power," "Miss Fallowfield's Fortune," "The Wisdom of Folly," "Her + Ladyship's Conscience," and "Ten Degrees Backward." _The Wisdom of + Folly_, 61. + + + +G + +GARRISON, THEODOSIA. Born at Newark, N.J., 1874. Educated at private + schools at Newark. Married Joseph Garrison of Newark 1898; married + Frederick J. Faulks of Newark 1911. Among her books are "The Joy of + Life, and Other Poems," "Earth Cry, and Other Poems," and "The + Dreamers." _A Prayer_, 156; _One Fight More_, 145. + +GATES, ELLEN M. HUNTINGTON. Born at Torrington, Conn., 1834; died at + New York City, Oct. 12, 1920. Schooling at Hamilton, N.Y. Among her + books are "Treasures of Kurium," "The Dark," "To the Unborn Peoples," + and "The Marble House." _The Bars of Fate_, 158; _Your Mission_, 120. + +GILLILAN, STRICKLAND W. Born at Jackson, Ohio, Oct. 9, 1869. Attended + Ohio University to junior year; began newspaper work on the Jackson, + Ohio, _Herald_ 1887; and has since been on the staffs of many + newspapers and magazines in various capacities. Writer of humorous + verse, and popular lyceum lecturer. Among his books are "Including + Finnigan," "Including You and Me," and "A Sample Case of Humor." _Keep + Sweet_, 220. + +GILMAN, CHARLOTTE PERKINS. Born at Hartford, Conn., July 3, 1860. + Excellent home instruction; school attendance scant; real education + reading and thinking, mainly in natural science, history, and + sociology. Writer and lecturer on humanitarian topics, especially + along lines of educational and legal advancement. _The Forerunner_, a + monthly magazine, entirely written by her, published for seven years + from 1910. Among her publications are "In This Our World," "Women and + Economics," "Concerning Children," "The Home," "Human Work," "The + Yellow Wallpaper," "The Man-made World," "Moving the Mountain," "What + Diantha Did," and "The Crux." _Resolve; The Lion Path_. + +GLAENZER, RICHARD BUTLER. Born at Paris, France, Dec. 15, 1876. Educated + at the Hill School and Yale. Interior decorator, poet, and essayist. + At present scenario writer at Hollywood, California. Author of "Beggar + and King" and "Literary Snapshots." _Man or Manikin_. + +GOETHE, JOHANN WOLFGANG VON. Born at Frankfort-on-the-Main, Germany, + Aug. 28, 1749; died at Weimar, Mar. 22, 1832. Famous poet, dramatist, + and prose writer. Among his well-known works are "The Sorrows of Young + Werther," "Wilhelm Meister," "Hermann and Dorothea," and "Faust." + _Lose the Day Loitering_. + +GRAY, THOMAS. Born at London, Dec. 26, 1716; died at Cambridge, July 30, + 1771. Educated at Eton and Cambridge; went with Horace Walpole on trip + to Continent 1739-41; became professor of modern history at Cambridge + 1768, but did not teach. A man singularly retiring and shy throughout + his life. Among his well-known poems are "Ode on a Distant Prospect of + Eton College," "Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard," "The Progress + of Poetry," "The Bard," "The Fatal Sisters," and "The Descent of + Odin." _Opening Paradise_. + +GUEST, EDGAR ALBERT. Born at Birmingham, Eng., Aug. 20, 1881; brought to + the United States 1891; educated in grammar and high schools of + Detroit, Mich. Connected with the Detroit _Free Press_ since 1895; + syndicates a daily poem in several hundred newspapers. His books are + "A Heap o' Livin'," "Just Folks," "Over Here," "Path to Home," and + "When Day is Done." _Can't; How Do You Tackle Your Work?; It Couldn't + Be Done; See It Through; There Will Always Be Something to Do; The + Things That Haven't Been Done Before; The World Is Against Me; To a + Young Man_. + + + +H + +HENLEY, WILLIAM ERNEST. Born at Gloucester, Eng., Aug. 23, 1849; died + July 11, 1903. Educated at the Crypt Grammar School at Gloucester. + Afflicted with physical infirmity, and in hospital at Edinburgh + 1874--an experience which gave the material for his "Hospital + Sketches." Went to London 1877; edited _London_ (a magazine of art) + 1882-6; the _Scots Observer_ (which became the _National Observer_) + 1888-93; and the _New Review_ 1893-8. Besides three plays which he + wrote in collaboration with Robert Louis Stevenson, he is the author + of "Views and Reviews," "Hospital Sketches," "London Voluntaries" and + "Hawthorn and Lavenden" _Invictus_, 5; _Praise the Generous Gods for + Giving_, 194; _Thick Is the Darkness_, 151. + +HERBERT, GEORGE. Born at Montgomery Castle, Wales, Apr. 3, 1593; died at + Bemerton, near Salisbury, Eng., Feb., 1633. Graduated from Cambridge + 1613; took M.A. degree 1616. He was in high favor at court; appointed + by the King as rector to Bemerton Church in 1630, and there wrote the + religious poems for which he is remembered. _The Gifts of God_, 211. + +HOLLAND, JOSIAH GILBERT. Born at Belchertown, Mass., July 24, 1819; died + at New York City, Oct. 21, 1881. Editor of the _Springfield + Republican_ 1849-66; editor-in-chief of _Scribner's Monthly_ (which + later became the _Century Magazine_). Among his poems are "Kathrina" + and "Bitter-Sweet." _Gradatim_, 200. + +HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL. Born at Cambridge, Mass., Aug. 29, 1809; died + there Oct. 7, 1894. Physician; professor of anatomy and physiology in + the medical school of Harvard University 1847-82. Some of his + best-known poems are "Bill and Joe," "The Deacon's Masterpiece," and + "The Chambered Nautilus." Of his three novels "Elsie Venner" is the + best known. His "Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table," "Professor at the + Breakfast-Table," "Poet at the Breakfast-Table," and "Over the + Tea-Cups" all appeared originally in the _Atlantic Monthly_. _The + Chambered Nautilus_, 30. + +HUNT, JAMES HENRY LEIGH. Born at Southgate, Eng., Oct. 19, 1784; died + at Putney, Eng., Aug. 28, 1859. Imprisoned for radical political + views; writer of popular poems and essays, _Abou Ben Adhem_, 133. + + + +I + +INGALLS, JOHN JAMES. Born at Middleton, Mass., Dec. 29, 1833; died at + Las Vegas, N. Mex., Aug. 16, 1900. Educated at Williams College; + admitted to the bar 1857; moved to Kansas; member of the state senate + 1861; U.S. senator from Kansas 1873-91. _Opportunity_, 54. + + + +J + +JONSON, BEN. Born at Westminster, Eng., about 1573; died Aug. 6, 1637. + Went to school at St. Martin's-in-the-Fields and Westminster. + Shakespeare played one of the roles in his comedy "Every Man in His + Humour" 1598. He went to France as the tutor of the son of Sir Walter + Raleigh 1613; was in the favor of the court, from which he received a + pension. Attacked with palsy 1626, and later with dropsy, and confined + to his bed most of his later years. Well-known plays besides the one + cited above are "Epicoene," "The Alchemist," "Volpone," "Bartholomew + Fair," and "Cataline"; author of the lyric "Drink to Me Only With + Thine Eyes," and a volume of criticism "Timber." _The Noble Nature_, + 177. + + + +K + +KEATS, JOHN. Born at London, Oct. 29, 1795; died at Rome, Feb. 23, 1821. + Went to Enfield School; apprenticed to a druggist 1811-15; student in + London hospitals 1815-17; passed examination at Apothecaries Hall + 1816, but never practised. Walking trip to Scotland 1818; his health + rapidly failed, and he sailed to Naples in Sept. 1820, and then went + to Rome, where, until his death, he was attended by his friend Severn. + Among his well-known poems are "On First Looking into Chapman's + Homer," "Endymion," "The Eve of St. Agnes," "Isabella," "La Belle Dame + Sans Merci," "Ode to Psyche," "Ode to a Grecian Urn," "Ode to a + Nightingale," "Ode on Melancholy," "Lamia," "Ode to Autumn," and + "Hyperion." _Fairy Song_, 193. + +KIBBY, WILLIAM JUDSON. Born at Knoxville, Tenn., Mar. 12, 1876. Educated + in Knoxville Public Schools; graduate of the Sheldon School. Character + analyst and industrial psychologist; newspaper and magazine + contributor. President of the Lion's Club of New York; thirty-second + degree Mason. _Appreciation_, 219; _Helpin' Out_, 96. + +KING, BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, JR. Born at St. Joseph, Mich., Mar. 17, 1857; + died at Bowling Green, Ky., Apr. 7, 1894. At an early age showed a + remarkable talent in music; a public entertainer on the piano and + reciter of his own verse. His poems collected in "Ben King's Verse." + _If I Should Die_, 13; _The Pessimist_, 166. + +KIPLING, RUDYARD. Born at Bombay, India, Dec. 30, 1865. Educated in + England at United Service College; returned to India 1880; assistant + editor of _Civil and Military Gazette_ 1882-89; returned to England + 1889; resided in the United States for several years; has traveled in + Japan and Australasia. Received the Noble Prize for Literature 1907; + honorary degrees from McGill University, Durham, Oxford, and + Cambridge. Among his books are "Departmental Ditties," "Plain Tales + from the Hills," "Under the Deodars," "Phantom' Rickshaw," "Wee Willie + Winkle," "Life's Handicap," "The Light That Failed," "Barrack-Room + Ballads," "The Jungle Book," "The Second Jungle Book," "The Seven + Seas," "Captains Courageous," "The Day's Work," "Kim," "Just So + Stories," "Puck of Pook's Hill," "Actions and Reactions," "Rewards and + Fairies," "Fringes of the Fleet," and "Sea Warfare." _If_, 4; _When + Earth's Last Picture Is Painted_, 230. + +KISER, SAMUEL ELLSWORTH. Born at Shippenville, Pa. Educated in Pennsylvania + and Ohio. Began newspaper work in Cleveland, and from 1900 until 1914 + was editorial and special writer for the Chicago _Record-Herald_. + Noted for his humorous sketches, which have been widely syndicated. + His poem "Unsubdued" is, like Henley's "Invictus," a splendid + portrayal of undaunted courage in the face of defeat. Among his books + are "Georgie," "Charles the Chauffeur," "Love Sonnets of an Office + Boy," "Ballads of the Busy Days," "Sonnets of a Chorus Girl," "The + Whole Glad Year," and "The Land of Little Care." _A Little Prayer; + December 31; Faith; It May Be; My Creed; The Fighter; Unsubdued_. + +KNOX, J. MASON. _Co-operation_. + + + +L + +LONGFELLOW, HENRY WADSWORTH. Born at Portland, Me., Feb. 27, 1807; died + at Cambridge, Mass., Mar. 24, 1882. Graduated from Bowdoin College + 1825; traveled in Europe 1826-9; professor of modern languages at + Bowdoin 1829-34; again visited Europe 1835-6; professor of modern + languages and belles lettres at Harvard College 1836-54; European + travel 1868-9. Some of his best-known poems are "A Psalm of Life," + "The Village Blacksmith," "The Wreck of the Hesperus," "The Skeleton + in Armor," "The Bridge," "Evangeline," "The Building of the Ship," + "Hiawatha," "The Courtship of Miles Standish," and "Tales of a Wayside + Inn"; author of two novels, "Hyperion" and "Kavanagh"; translator of + Dante's "Divine Comedy." _A Psalm of Life; The Arrow and the Song_. + +LOVELACE, RICHARD. Born in Kent, 1618; died at London, 1658. Educated + at Oxford; imprisoned for support of the royalist cause 1642 and 1648; + released from prison after the execution of King Charles I, but his + estate had been ruined and he died in poverty. _To Althea from + Prison_. + + + +M + +MACKAY, CHARLES. Born at Perth, Eng., Mar. 27, 1814; died at London, + Dec. 24, 1889. Editor of the Glasgow _Argus_ 1844-47 and of the + _Illustrated London News_ 1852-59; New York correspondent of the + London _Times_ during the Civil War. _Clear the Way; Cleon and I_. + +M'LEAN, JANE. _Slogan_. + +MALLOCH, DOUGLAS. Born at Muskegon, Mich., May 5, 1877. Common school + education; reporter on the Muskegon _Daily Chronicle_ 1886-1903; + member of the editorial staff of the _American Lumberman_ from 1903; + associate editor from 1910; contributes verse relating to the forest + and lumber camps to various magazines; is called "The Poet of the + Woods," He is author of "In Forest Land," "Resawed Fables," "The + Woods," "The Enchanted Garden," and "Tote-Road and Trail." _Be the + Best of Whatever You Are; To-Day_. + +MALONE, WALTER. Born in De Soto Co., Miss., Feb. 10, 1866; died May 18, + 1915. Received the degree of Ph.B. from the University of Mississippi + 1887; practised law at Memphis, Tenn., 1887-97; literary work in New + York City 1897-1900; then resumed law practice at Memphis; became + Judge of second Circuit Court, Shelby Co., Tenn., 1905, and served + till his death. Annual exercises held in the Capleville schools in his + honor. An excellent edition of his poems, issued under the direction + of his sister, Mrs. Ella Malone Watson of Capleville, Tenn., is + published by the John P. Morton Co., of Louisville, Ky. _Opportunity_. + +MARKHAM, EDWIN. Born at Oregon City, Ore., Apr. 23, 1852. Went to + California 1857; worked at farming and black-smithing, and herded + cattle and sheep, during boyhood. Educated at San José Normal School + and two Western colleges; special student in ancient and modern + literature and Christian sociology; principal and superintendent of + schools in California until 1899. Mr. Markham is one of the most + distinguished of American poets and lecturers. His poem "The Man with + the Hoe" in his first volume of poems is world-famous, and has been + heralded by many as "the battle-cry of the next thousand years." He + has sounded in his work the note of universal brotherhood and + humanitarian interest, and has been credited as opening up a new + school of American poetry appealing to the social conscience, where + Whitman appealed only to the social consciousness. His books are "The + Man with the Hoe, and Other Poems," "Lincoln, and Other Poems," "The + Shoes of Happiness, and Other Poems," and "Gates of Paradise, and + Other Poems." His book "California the Wonderful" is a volume of + beautiful prose giving a historical, social, and literary study of the + state. _A Creed; Duty; Opportunity; Preparedness; Rules for the Road; + The Stone Rejected; Two at a Fireside; Victory in Defeat_. + +MASON, WALT. Born at Columbus, Ontario, May 4, 1862. Self-educated. Came + to the United States 1880; was connected with the Atchison _Globe_ + 1885-7; later with Lincoln, Neb., _State Journal_; editorial + paragrapher of the _Evening News_, Washington, 1893; with the Emporia, + Kan., _Gazette_ since 1907. Writes a daily prose poem which is + syndicated in over two hundred newspapers, and is believed to have the + largest audience of any living writer. Among his books are "Rhymes of + the Range," "Uncle Walt," "Walt Mason's Business Prose Poems," + "Rippling Rhymes," "Horse Sense," "Terse Verse," and "Walt Mason, His + Book." _Lions and Ants; The Has-Beens; The Welcome Man_. + +MILLER, JOAQUIN. Born in Indiana, Nov. 11, 1841; died Feb. 17, 1913. He + went to Oregon 1854; was afterwards a miner in California; studied + law; was a judge in Grant County, Oregon, 1866-70. For a while he was + a journalist in Washington, D.C.; returned to California 1887. He is + the author of various books of verse, and is called "The Poet of the + Sierras." _Columbus; To Those Who Fail_. + +MILTON, JOHN. Born at London, Dec. 9, 1608; died there Nov. 8, 1674. + Attended St. Paul's School; at Cambridge 1625-32. At Horton, writing + and studying, 1632-38. In 1638 went to Italy; met Galileo in Florence. + During the great Civil War wrote pamphlets against the Royalists; was + made Latin Secretary to the new Commonwealth 1649; became totally + blind 1652. Until his third marriage in 1663, his domestic life had + been rendered unhappy by the undutifulness of his three daughters. + Among his works are "L'Allegro," "Il Penseroso," "Comus," "Lycidas," + "Paradise Lost," "Paradise Regained," and "Samson Agonistes." _The + Inner Light_. + +MORGAN, ANGELA. Born at Washington, D.C. Educated under private tutors + and at public schools; took special work at Columbia University. Began + early as a newspaper writer, first with the Chicago _American_; then + with the Chicago _Journal_, and New York and Boston papers. She is a + member of the Poetry Society of America, The MacDowell Club, Three + Arts, and the League of American Pen Women. She is one of the most + eloquent readers before the public to-day; was a delegate to the + Congress of Women at The Hague 1915, at which she read her poem + "Battle Cry of the Mothers." Her four books of poems are "The Hour Has + Struck," "Utterance, and Other Poems," "Forward, March!" and "Hail, + Man!" and a fifth is soon to be published. Her book of fiction "The + Imprisoned Splendor" contains well-known stories ("What Shall We Do + with Mother?" "The Craving," "Such Is the Love of Woman," and "The + Making of a Man"), some of which appeared previously in magazines. A + novel is shortly to be published. _A Song of Life; A Song of + Thanksgiving; Grief; Know Thyself; Stand Forth!; When Nature Wants a + Man; Work_. + +MORRIS, JOSEPH. Born in Ohio 1889. College and university education; + professor of English and lecturer on literary subjects; newspaper and + magazine contributor; connected with publishing houses since 1917 in + various editorial capacities. _A Lesson from History; Borrowed + Feathers; Can You Sing a Song?; If You Can't Go Over or Under, Go + Round; Philosophy for Croakers; Swellitis; The Glad Song; The + Unmusical Soloist; Two Raindrops_. + + + +N + +NEIHARDT, JOHN GNEISENAU. Born near Sharpsburg, Ill., Jan. 8, 1881. + Completed the scientific course at the Nebraska Normal College 1897; + received the degree of Litt.D. from the University of Nebraska 1917. + Declared Poet Laureate of Nebraska by a joint resolution of the + Legislature, Apr. 1921, in recognition of the significance of the + American epic cycle upon which he has been working for eight years. + Winner of the prize of five hundred dollars offered by the Poetry + Society of America for the best volume of poetry ("The Song of Three + Friends") published by an American in 1919. Has been literary critic + of the Minneapolis _Journal_ since 1912. Among his books are "The + Divine Enchantment," "The Lonesome Trail," "A Bundle of Myrrh," + "Man-Song," "The River and I," "The Dawn-Builder," "The Stranger at + the Gate," "Death of Agrippina," "Life's Lure," "The Song of Hugh + Glass," "The Quest," "The Song of Three Friends," "The Splendid + Wayfaring," and "Two Mothers." _Battle Cry_, 148; _Envoi_, 196; _Let + Me Live Out My Years_, 127; _Prayer for Pain_, 208. + +NETTE, JEAN. _Challenge_, 119. + +NEWBOLT, SIR HENRY. Born at Bilston, Eng., June 6, 1862. Educated at + Oxford; practised law until 1899; editor of _Monthly Review_ 1900-04; + Vice-President of the Royal Society of Literature; created a Knight + 1915. Among his books are "Taken from the Enemy," "Mordred," "Admirals + All," "The Island Race," "The Old Country," "The Book of Cupid," + "Poems Old and New," and "The New June." _Play the Game_, 162. + +NOYES, ALFRED. Born in Staffordshire, Eng., Sept. 16, 1880. Educated at + Oxford; received honorary degree of Litt.D. from Yale 1913; gave the + Lowell Lectures in America on "The Sea in English Poetry" 1913; + elected to Professorship of Modern Poetry at Princeton 1914; + temporarily attached to the foreign office 1916. Among his books are + "Collected Poems" (three volumes), "The Elfin Artist," "The New + Morning," "The Lord of Misrule," "A Belgian Christmas Eve," "The + Wine-Press," "Tales of the Mermaid Tavern," "Sherwood," "The Enchanted + Island," "Drake," "Beyond the Desert," "Walking Shadows," "Open + Boats," "The Golden Hynde." "The Flower of Old Japan," and "A Salute + from the Fleet." _The New Duckling_, 34. + + + +O + +O SHEEL, SHEAMUS. Born at New York City, Sept. 19, 1886. Educated in the + New York City grammar and high schools; took special work in English + and history at Columbia 1906-8. Member of the Poetry Society of + America and the Gaelic Society. Interested in political and civic + reforms. Among his books are "Blossomy Bough" and "The Light Feet of + Goats." _He Whom a Dream Hath Possessed_. + + + +P + +PROCTER, BRYAN WALLER ("Barry Cornwall"). Born at Leeds, Eng., Nov. 21, + 1787; died Oct. 5, 1874. Educated at Harrow; schoolmate of Byron and + Sir Robert Peel; called to the bar 1831; commissioner of lunacy + 1832-61. Among his books are "Dramatic Scenes, and Other Poems," "A + Sicilian Story," "Flood of Thessaly," and "English Songs." _Sit Down, + Sad Soul_. + + + +R + +RICE, GRANTLAND. Born at Nashville, Tenn., Nov. 1, 1880. Attended + Vanderbilt University. Worked as sporting writer on the Atlanta + _Journal_; came to New York City in 1911. His sporting column, "The + Sportlight," is said to be more widely syndicated and more widely read + than any other writing on topics of sport in the United States. Irvin + S. Cobb says that it often reaches the height of pure literature, and + as a writer of homely, simple American verse Grantland Rice is held by + many to be the logical successor to James Whitcomb Riley. He is author + of "Songs of the Stalwart" and editor of the _American Golfer_. _Brave + Life_; "_Might Have Been_"; _On Being Ready_; _On Down the Road_; _The + Answer_; _The Call of the Unbeaten_; _The Game_; _The Trainers_. + +RILEY, JAMES WHITCOMB. Born at Greenfield, Ind., 1849; died at Indianapolis, + Ind., July 22, 1916. Public school education; received honorary degree + of M.A. from Yale 1902; Litt.D. from Wabash College 1903 and from the + University of Pennsylvania 1904, and LL.D. from Indiana University + 1907. Began contributing poems to Indiana papers 1873; known as the + "Hoosier Poet," and much of his verse in the middle Western and + Hoosier dialect. Among his books are "The Old Swimmin' Hole," + "Afterwhiles," "Old Fashioned Roses," "Pipes o' Pan at Zekesbury," + "Neighborly Poems," "Green Fields and Running Brooks," "Poems Here at + Home," "Child-Rhymes," "Love Lyrics," "Home Folks," "Farm-Rhymes," "An + Old Sweetheart of Mine," "Out to Old Aunt Mary's," "A Defective Santa + Claus," "Songs o' Cheer," "Boys of the Old Glee Club," "Raggedy Man," + "Little Orphan Annie," "Songs of Home," "When the Frost Is on the + Punkin," "All the Year Round," "Knee-Deep in June," "A Song of Long + Ago," and "Songs of Summer." His complete works are issued by the + Bobbs-Merrill Company in the "Biographical Edition of James Whitcomh + Riley" 1913. _Just Be Glad_, 14; _My Philosophy_, 57. + +RITTENHOUSE, JESSIE BELLE. Born at Mt. Morris, N.Y. Graduate of Genesee + Wesleyan Seminary, Lima, N.Y.; teacher of Latin and English in a + private school at Cairo, Ill., and at Ackley Institute for Girls, + Grand Haven, Mich., 1893-4; active newspaper work and reviewer until + 1900; contributor to New York _Times_ Review of Books and _The + Bookman_; lecturer on modern poetry in extension courses of Columbia + University. Her books are "The Little Book of Modern Verse," "The + Little Book of Modern American Verse," "Second Book of Modern Verse," + "The Younger American Poets," and "The Door of Dreams." _My Wage_, + 183. + + + +S + +SERVICE, ROBERT WILLIAM. Born at Preston, Eng., Jan. 10, 1874. Educated + at Hillhead Public School, Glasgow; served apprenticeship with the + Commercial Bank of Scotland, Glasgow; emigrated to Canada and settled + on Vancouver Island; for a while engaged in farming, and later + traveled up and down the Pacific coast, following many occupations; + finally joined the staff of the Canadian Bank of Commerce in Victoria, + B.C., 1905; was later transferred to White Horse, Yukon Territory, and + then to Dawson; he spent eight years in the Yukon, much of it in + travel. In Europe during the Great War; in Paris 1921. Among his books + are "The Spell of the Yukon," "Ballads of a Cheerchako," "Rhymes of a + Rolling Stone," "Rhymes of a Red Cross Man," and "Ballads of a + Bohemian." _The Quitter_, 8. + +SHAKESPEARE, WILLIAM. Born at Stratford on Avon, Apr. 23, 1564; died + there Apr. 23, 1616, and buried in Stratford church. Probably attended + Stratford Grammar School; married Anne Hathaway, who was eight years + his senior, Nov., 1582; a daughter, Susanna, born May 1, 1583; twins, + Hamnet and Judith, born 1585. About 1585 went to London, and became + connected with the theater as actor, reviser of old plays, etc. His + son Hammet died 1596; his father applied for a coat of arms 1596. + Bought New Place at Stratford 1597; coat of arms granted 1599; + shareholder in Globe theater 1599. His father died 1601; his daughter + Susanna married to John Hall, a physician at Stratford, 1607; his + mother died 1608. Retired from theatre and returned to Stratford about + 1611. His daughter Judith married to Thomas Quinney, a vintner, 1616; + his wife died 1623; last descendant, Lady Bernard, died 1670. Folio + edition of his plays 1623. Characterized by surpassing ability in both + comedy and tragedy, extraordinary insight into human character, and + supreme mastery of language. Besides his plays, which are too well + known to require listing, he wrote "Sonnets," "Venus and Adonis" and + "The Rape of Lucrece." _A Good Name_, 109; _Cowards_, 194; _Good + Deeds_, 216; _Having Done and Doing_, 52; _Opportunity_, 54; _Order + and the Bees_, 75; _Painting the Lily_, 188; _Polonius's Advice to + Laertes_, 49; _Sadness and Merriment_, 218; _Sleep and the Monarch_, + 142; _Stability_, 157; _The Belly and the Members_, 152; _The Life + Without Passion_, 213. + +SHELLEY, PERCY BYSSHE. Born at Field Place, Sussex, Eng., Aug. 4, 1792; + drowned off Vireggio, Italy, July 8, 1822. Educated at Eton 1804-10; + expelled from Oxford for publication of pamphlet "The Necessity of + Atheism" 1811. Married Harriet Westbrook 1811; left her 1814, and went + to Switzerland with Mary Godwin; returned to England 1815; received + £1000 a year from his grandfather's estate 1815. Harriet drowned + herself 1816, and he formally married Mary the next month. They went + to Italy 1818; he was drowned on a voyage to welcome Leigh Hunt to + Italy; his body burned on a funeral pyre in the presence of Byron, + Hunt, and Trelawney. Some of his well-known poems are "Queen Mab," + "Alastor," "The Revolt of Islam," "Prometheus Unbound," "Adonais," "To + a Skylark," and "Ode to the West Wind"; he also wrote a poetical + tragedy, "The Cenci." _Prometheus Unbound_, 184. + +SILL, EDWARD ROWLAND. Born at Windsor, Conn., 1841; died at Cleveland, + Ohio, Feb. 27, 1887. Graduated from Yale 1861; professor of English at + University of California 1874-82. _Faith_, 112; _Life_, 99; + _Opportunity_, 56. + +SOUTHWELL, ROBERT. Born about 1561; executed at Tyburn, Feb. 21, 1595. + Educated at Paris; received into the Society of Jesus 1578; returned + to England 1586; became chaplain to the Countess of Arundel 1589; + betrayed to the authorities 1592; imprisoned for three years and + finally executed. _Times Go by Turns_, 122. + +STANTON, FRANK LEBBY. Born at Charleston, S.C., Feb. 22, 1857. Common + school education; served apprenticeship as printer; identified with + the Atlanta press for years, especially with the Atlanta + _Constitution_ in which his poems have been a feature, and have won + for him a unique place among modern verse writers. Some of his books + are "Songs of the Soil," "Comes One With a Song," "Songs from Dixie + Land," "Up from Georgia," and "Little Folks Down South." _A Hopeful + Brother_, 67; _A Little Thankful Song_, 181; _A Poor Unfortunate_, + 137; _A Pretty Good World_, 189; _A Song of To-Morrow_, 187; _Here's + Hopin'_, 164; _Hoe Your Row_, 203; _Just Whistle_, 38; _Keep A-Goin'!_ + 229; _This World_, 133. + +STEVENSON, ROBERT LOUIS. Born at Edinburgh, Nov. 13, 1850; died at Apia, + Samoa, Dec. 4, 1894. Early education irregular because of poor + health; went to Italy with his parents 1863; at Edinburgh University + 1867-73, at first preparing for engineering but later taking up law; + admitted to the bar 1875 but never practised. Various trips to the + Continent between 1873-79; visited America 1879-80; resided in + Switzerland, France, and England 1882-7; came to America again 1887-8; + voyages in Pacific 1888-91; at Vailima, Samoa, 1891-94. A conspicuous + example of a man always in poor health yet courageous and optimistic + throughout his life. Among his books are "A Lodging for the Night," + "Travels with a Donkey," "Virginibus Puerisque," "New Arabian Nights," + "Treasure Island," "A Child's Garden of Verse," "The Strange Case of + Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," "Kidnapped," "The Master of Ballantrae," + "Father Damien," "Ebb Tide," and "Weir of Hermiston." _The Celestial + Surgeon_. + + + +T + +TEICHNER, MIRIAM. Born at Detroit, Mich., 1888. Educated in public + schools there; graduated from Central High School; took special + courses in English and economics at the University of Michigan. Member + of staff of Detroit _News_ after leaving school, writing a daily + column of verse and humor; came to New York City as special feature + writer of the New York _Globe_ 1915; in Germany for the Detroit _News_ + and Associated Newspapers writing of post-war social and economic + conditions 1921. _Awareness_; _Submission_; _The Struggle_; _Victory_. + +TENNYSON, ALFRED LORD. Born at Somersby, Lincolnshire, Eng., Aug. 6, 1809; + died at Aldworth House, near Haslemere, Surrey, Oct. 6, 1892. Student + at Cambridge 1828-31, but did not take a degree; trip to the Pyrenees + with Arthur Hallam 1832; granted a pension of £200 by Peel 1845; after + residing successively at Twickenham and Aldworth, he settled at + Farringford, the Isle of Wight, 1853. Became poet laureate 1850; + raised to the peerage 1884. Some of his well-known poems are "The Lady + of Shalott," "The Palace of Art," "The Lotus Eaters," "A Dream of Fair + Women," "Oenone," "Morte d'Arthur," "Dora," "Ulysses," "Locksley + Hall," "The Princess," "In Memoriam," "Maud," "Ode on the Death of the + Duke of Wellington," "Charge of the Light Brigade," "Idylls of the + King," "Enoch Arden," and the plays "Queen Mary" and "Becket." _Life, + not Death_; _Ring Out, Wild Bells_; _The Greatness of the Soul_; + _Ulysses_; _Will_. + + + +V + +VAN DYKE, HENRY. Born at Germantown, Pa., Nov. 10, 1852; graduated at + Polytechnical Institute of Brooklyn 1869; A.B. degree from Princeton + 1873; M.A. degree from there 1876; graduated from Princeton + Theological Seminary 1877; studied at University of Berlin 1877-9; has + received honorary degrees from Princeton, Harvard, Yale, Union, + Wesleyan, Pennsylvania, and Oxford. Pastor of United Congregational + Church, Newport, R.I., 1879-82, and of the Brick Presbyterian Church, + New York, 1883-1900; professor of English literature at Princeton from + 1900; U.S. minister to the Netherlands and Luxemburg 1913-17. Author + of "The Poetry of Tennyson," "Sermons to Young Men," "Little Rivers," + "The Other Wise Man," "The First Christmas Tree," "The Builders, and + Other Poems," "The Lost Word," "Fisherman's Luck," "The Toiling of + Felix, and Other Poems," "The Blue Flower," "Music, and Other Poems," + "Out-of-Doors in the Holy Land," "The Mansion," and "The Unknown + Quantity." _Four Things, 3; Work_, 65. + + + +W + +WHITTIER, JOHN GREENLEAF. Born at Haverhill, Mass., Dec. 17, 1807; died + at Hampton Falls, N.H., Sept. 7, 1892. Of Quaker ancestory; father a + poor farmer; as a boy he injured his health by hard work on the farm. + Taught school; attended Haverhill Academy for two terms 1827-8; edited + Haverhill _Gazette_ 1830; returned to the farm in broken health 1832. + Member of Massachusetts Legislature 1835-6. An ardent opponent of + slavery; edited the Pennsylvania _Freeman_ 1838-40; several times + attacked by mobs because of his views on slavery. Leading writer for + the Washington _National Era _1847-57; contributed to the _Atlantic + Monthly_ 1857. Some of his well-known poems are "Maud Muller," "The + Barefoot Boy," "Barbara Freitchie," "Snow-Bound," and "The Eternal + Goodness." _My Triumph_, 90. + +WIDDEMER, MARGARET. Born at Doylestown, Pa.; educated at home; graduated + at the Drexel Institute Library School 1909. Began writing in + childhood; her first published poem "The Factories" was widely quoted; + married Robert Haven Schauffler 1919. Among her books are "The + Rose-Garden Husband," "Winona of the Camp Fire," "Factories, with + Other Lyrics," "Why Not?" "The Wishing-Ring Man," "The Old Road to + Paradise," and "The Board Walk." _To Youth After Pain_, 103. + +WILCOX, ELLA WHEELER. Born at Johnston Centre, Wis., 1855; died at her + home in Connecticut, Oct. 31, 1919. Educated "Poems of Pleasure," + "Kingdom of Love," "Poems of Passion," "Poems of Progress," "Poems of + Sentiment," "New Thought Common Sense," "Picked Poems," "Gems from + Wilcox," "Faith," "Love," "Hope," "Cheer," and "The World and I." + _Life_, 139; _Smiles_, 226; _Solitude_, 16; _The Disappointed_, 126; + _Will_, 107; _Wishing_, 86; _Worth While_, 28. + +WORDSWORTH, WILLIAM. Born at Cockermouth, Cumberland, Eng., Apr. 7, 1770; + died at Rydal Mount, Apr. 23, 1850. Educated at Hawkshead grammar + school and Cambridge University, where he graduated 1791. Traveled on + Continent 1790; in France 1791-2, where he sympathized with the French + republicans. Received £900 legacy 1795, and settled with his sister + Dorothy at Racedown, Dorsetshire; to be near Coleridge he removed to + Alfoxden 1797; went to Continent 1798; returned to England 1799, and + settled at Grasmere in the lake district; married Mary Hutchison 1802; + settled at Allan Bank 1808; removed to Grasmere 1811. Appointed + distributer of stamps 1813, and settled at Rydal Mount; traveled in + Scotland 1814 and 1832; on the Continent 1820 and 1837. Given a + pension of £300 by Peel 1842; became poet laureate 1843. Some of his + well-known poems are "The Excursion," "Tintern Abbey," "Yarrow + Revisited," "The Prelude," "Intimations of Immortality," and "We Are + Seven." _Ode to Duty_, 190; _The Daffodils_, 180; _The Rainbow_, 117. + +WOTTON, SIR HENRY. Born at Bocton Malherbe, Kent, Eng., 1568; died at + Eton, 1639. Educated at Winchester and Oxford; on the Continent + 1588-95; became the secretary of the Earl of Essex 1595; English + ambassador to Venice, Germany, etc.; became provost of Eton College + 1624. _Character of a Happy Life_, 214. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of It Can Be Done, by Joseph Morris + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IT CAN BE DONE *** + +***** This file should be named 10763-8.txt or 10763-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/7/6/10763/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Anne Folland and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: + https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL + + diff --git a/old/10763-8.zip b/old/10763-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..98e86ae --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10763-8.zip diff --git a/old/10763.txt b/old/10763.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6d68513 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10763.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12036 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of It Can Be Done, by Joseph Morris + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: It Can Be Done + Poems of Inspiration + +Author: Joseph Morris + +Release Date: January 21, 2004 [EBook #10763] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IT CAN BE DONE *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Anne Folland and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + +IT CAN BE DONE + +POEMS OF INSPIRATION + + +COLLECTED BY + +JOSEPH MORRIS and ST. CLAIR ADAMS + + + + +FOREWORD + + +This is a volume of inspirational poems. Its purpose is to bring men +courage and resolution, to cheer them, to fire them with new confidence +when they grow dispirited, to strengthen their faith that THINGS CAN BE +DONE. It is better for this purpose than the entire works of any one +poet, for it takes the cream of many and has greater diversity than any +one writer can show. + +It is made up chiefly of very recent poems--not such as were written for +anthologies of poetical "gems," but such as speak directly to the heart, +always in very simple language, often in the phrases of shop or office +or street. Included, however, with the poems of the day are a few of the +fine old pieces that have been of comfort to men through the ages. + +Besides the poems themselves, the volume contains helps to their +understanding and enjoyment. The pieces are introduced by short +comments; these serve the same purpose as the strain played by the +pianist before the singer begins to sing; they create a mood, give a +point of view, throw light on the meaning of what follows. Also the +lives of the authors are briefly summarized; this is in answer to our +natural interest in the writer of a poem we like, and in the case of +living poets it brings together facts hardly to be found anywhere else. + +Finally, the book is not one to be read and then cast aside. It is to be +kept as a constant companion and an unfailing recourse in weariness or +gloom. Human companions are not always in the mood to cheer us, and may +talk upon themes we dislike. But this book will converse or be silent, +it is never out of sorts or discouraged, and so far from being wed to +some single topic, it will speak to us at any time on any subject we +desire. + +To many authors and publishers acknowledgment is due for generous +permission to use copyright material. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +Abou Ben Adhem............................. _Leigh Hunt_ +Answer, The................................ _Grantland Rice_ +Appreciation............................... _William Judson Kibby_ +Arrow and the Song, The.................... _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ +Awareness.................................. _Miriam Teichner_ + +Bars of Fate, The.......................... _Ellen M.H. Gates_ +Battle Cry................................. _John G. Neihardt_ +Belly and the Members, The................. _William Shakespeare_ +Be the Best of Whatever You Are............ _Douglas Malloch_ +Borrowed Feathers.......................... _Joseph Morris_ +Borrowing Trouble.......................... _Robert Burns_ +Brave Life................................. _Grantland Rice_ + +Call of the Unbeaten, The.................. _Grantland Rice_ +Can't...................................... _Edgar A. Guest_ +Can You Sing a Song?....................... _Joseph Morris_ +Cares...................................... _Elizabeth Barrett Browning_ +Celestial Surgeon, The..................... _Robert Louis Stevenson_ +Challenge.................................. _Jean Nette_ +Chambered Nautilus, The.................... _Oliver Wendell Holmes_ +Character of a Happy Life.................. _Sir Henry Wotton_ +Clear the Way.............................. _Charles Mackay_ +Cleon and I................................ _Charles Mackay_ +Columbus................................... _Joaquin Miller_ +Conqueror, The............................. _Berton Braley_ +Co-operation............................... _J. Mason Knox_ +Courage.................................... _Florence Earle Coates +Cowards.................................... _William Shakespeare_ +Creed, A................................... _Edwin Markham_ + +Daffodils, The............................. _William Wordsworth_ +Days of Cheer.............................. _James W. Foley_ +December 31................................ _S.E. Kiser_ +De Sunflower Ain't de Daisy................ _Anonymous_ +Disappointed, The.......................... _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ +Duty....................................... _Ralph Waldo Emerson_ +Duty....................................... _Edwin Markham_ + +Envoi...................................... _John G. Neihardt_ +Essentials................................. _St. Clair Adams_ + +Fable...................................... _Ralph Waldo Emerson_ +Fairy Song................................. _John Keats_ +Faith...................................... _S.E. Kiser_ +Faith...................................... _Edward Rowland Sill_ +Fighter, The............................... _S.E. Kiser_ +Fighting Failure, The...................... _Everard Jack Appleton_ +Firm of Grin and Barrett, The.............. _Sam Walter Foss_ +Four Things................................ _Henry Van Dyke_ +Friends of Mine............................ _James W. Foley_ + +Game, The.................................. _Grantland Rice _ +Gifts of God, The.......................... _George Herbert_ +Gift, The.................................. _Robert Burns_ +Gladness................................... _Anna Hempstead Branch_ +Glad Song, The............................. _Joseph Morris_ +God........................................ _Gamaliel Bradford_ +Good Deeds................................. _William Shakespeare_ +Good Intentions............................ _St. Clair Adams_ +Good Name, A............................... _William Shakespeare_ +Gradatim................................... _G. Holland_ +Gray Days.................................. _Griffith Alexander_ +Greatness of the Soul, The................. _Alfred Tennyson_ +Grief...................................... _Angela Morgan_ +Grumpy Guy, The............................ _Griffith Alexander_ + +Happy Heart, The........................... _Thomas Dekker_ +Has-Beens, The............................. _Walt Mason_ +Having Done and Doing...................... _William Shakespeare_ +Heinelet................................... _Gamaliel Bradford _ +Helpin' Out................................ _William Judson Kibby_ +Here's Hopin'.............................. _Frank L. Stanton_ +Hero, A.................................... _Florence Earle Coates_ +He Whom a Dream Hath Possessed............. _Sheamus O Sheel_ +His Ally................................... _William Rose Benet_ +Hoe Your Row............................... _Frank L. Stanton_ +Hold Fast.................................. _Everard Jack Appleton_ +Hope....................................... _Anonymous_ +Hopeful Brother, A......................... _Frank L. Stanton_ +House by the Side of the Road, The......... _Sam Walter Foss_ +How Did You Die?........................... _Edmund Vance Cooke_ +How Do You Tackle Your Work?............... _Edgar A. Guest_ +Hymn to Happiness, A....................... _James W. Foley_ + +If......................................... _John Kendrick Bangs_ +If......................................... _Rudyard Kipling_ +If I Should Die............................ _Ben King_ +If You Can't Go Over or Under, Go Round.... _Joseph Morris_ +I'm Glad................................... _Anonymous_ +Inner Light, The........................... _John Milton_ +Invictus................................... _William Ernest Henley_ +Is It Raining, Little Flower?.............. _Anonymous_ +It Couldn't Be Done........................ _Edgar A. Guest_ +It May Be.................................. _S.E. Riser_ +It Won't Stay Blowed....................... _St. Clair Adams_ + +Jaw........................................ _St. Clair Adams_ +Joy of Living, The......................... _Gamaliel Bradford_ +Just Be Glad............................... _James Whitcomb Riley_ +Just Whistle............................... _Frank L. Stanton_ + +Keep A-Goin'!.............................. _Frank L. Stanton_ +Keep On Keepin' On......................... _Anonymous_ +Keep Sweet................................. _Strickland W. Gillilan_ +Kingdom of Man, The........................ _John Kendrick Bangs_ +Know Thyself............................... _Angela Morgan_ + +Laugh a Little Bit......................... _Edmund Vance Cooke_ +Lesson from History, A..................... _Joseph Morris_ +Let Me Live Out My Years................... _John G. Neihardt_ +Life....................................... _Griffith Alexander_ +Life....................................... _Edward Rowland Sill_ +Life....................................... _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ +Life and Death............................. _Anna Barbauld_ +Life and Death............................. _Ernest H. Crosby_ +Life, not Death............................ _Alfred Tennyson_ +Life Without Passion....................... _William Shakespeare_ +Lion Path, The............................. _Charlotte Perkins Gilman_ +Lions and Ants............................. _Walt Mason_ +Little Prayer, A........................... _S.E. Kiser_ +Little Thankful Song, A.................... _Frank L. Stanton_ +Lose the Day Loitering..................... _Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ + +Man, Bird, and God......................... _Robert Browning_ +Man or Manikin............................. _Richard Butler Glaenzer_ +Man's a Man for A' That, A................. _Robert Burns_ +Man Who Frets at Worldly Strife, The....... _Joseph Rodman Drake_ +Meetin' Trouble............................ _Everard Jack Appleton_ +"Might Have Been".......................... _Grantland Rice_ +Mistress Fate.............................. _William Rose Benet_ +Morality................................... _Matthew Arnold_ +My Creed................................... _S.E. Kiser_ +My Philosophy.............................. _James Whitcomb Riley_ +My Triumph................................. _John Greenleaf Whittier_ +My Wage.................................... _Jessie B. Rittenhouse_ + +Never Trouble Trouble...................... _St. Clair Adams_ +New Duckling, The.......................... _Alfred Noyes_ +Noble Nature, The.......................... _Ben Jonson_ + +Ode to Duty................................ _William Wordsworth_ +On Being Ready............................. _Grantland Rice_ +On Down the Road........................... _Grantland Rice_ +One Fight More............................. _Theodosia Garrison_ +One of These Days.......................... _James W. Foley_ +One, The................................... _Everard Jack Appleton_ +Opening Paradise........................... _Thomas Gray_ +Opportunity................................ _Berton Braley_ +Opportunity................................ _John James Ingalls_ +Opportunity................................ _Walter Malone_ +Opportunity................................ _Edwin Markham_ +Opportunity................................ _William Shakespeare_ +Opportunity................................ _Edward Rowland Sill_ +Order and the Bees......................... _William Shakespeare_ +Ownership.................................. _St. Clair Adams_ + +Painting the Lily.......................... _William Shakespeare_ +Per Aspera................................. _Florence Earle Coates_ +Pessimist, The............................. _Ben King_ +Philosopher, A............................. _John Kendrick Bangs_ +Philosophy for Croakers.................... _Joseph Morris_ +Pippa's Song............................... _Robert Browning_ +Playing the Game........................... _Anonymous_ +Playing the Game........................... _Berton Braley_ +Play the Game.............................. _Henry Newbolt_ +Polonius's Advice to Laertes............... _William Shakespeare_ +Poor Unfortunate, A........................ _Frank L. Stanton_ +Praise the Generous Gods for Giving........ _William Ernest Henley_ +Prayer, A.................................. _Theodosia Garrison_ +Prayer for Pain............................ _John G. Neihardt_ +Preparedness............................... _Edwin Markham_ +Press On................................... _Park Benjamin _ +Pretty Good World, A....................... _Frank L. Stanton_ +Problem to Be Solved, A.................... _St. Clair Adams_ +Prometheus Unbound......................... _Percy Bysshe Shelley_ +Prospice................................... _Robert Browning_ +Psalm of Life, A........................... _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ + +Quitter, The............................... _Robert W. Service_ + +Rabbi Ben Ezra............................. _Robert Browning_ +Rainbow, The............................... _William Wordsworth_ +Rectifying Years, The...................... _St. Clair Adams_ +Resolve.................................... _Charlotte Perkins Gilman_ +Richer Mines, The.......................... _John Kendrick Bangs_ +Ring Out, Wild Bells....................... _Alfred Tennyson_ +Rules for the Road......................... _Edwin Markham_ + +Sadness and Merriment...................... _William Shakespeare_ +Say Not the Struggle Nought Availeth....... _Arthur Hugh Clough_ +See It Through............................. _Edgar A. Guest_ +Self-Dependence............................ _Matthew Arnold_ +Serenity................................... _Lord Byron_ +Sit Down, Sad Soul......................... _Bryan Waller Procter_ +Sleep and the Monarch...................... _William Shakespeare_ +Slogan..................................... _Jane M'Lean_ +Smiles..................................... _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ +Smiling Paradox, A......................... _John Kendrick Bangs_ +Solitude................................... _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ +Song of Endeavor........................... _James W. Foley_ +Song of Life, A............................ _Angela Morgan_ +Song of Thanksgiving, A.................... _Angela Morgan_ +Song of To-morrow, A....................... _Frank L. Stanton_ +Stability.................................. _William Shakespeare_ +Stand Forth!............................... _Angela Morgan_ +Start Where You Stand...................... _Bert on Braley_ +Steadfast.................................. _Everard Jack Appleton_ +Stone Rejected, The........................ _Edwin Markham_ +Struggle, The.............................. _Miriam Teichner_ +Submission................................. _Miriam Teichner_ +Success.................................... _Berton Braley_ +Swellitis.................................. _Joseph Morris_ +Syndicated Smile, The...................... _St. Clair Adams_ + +There Will Always Be Something to Do....... _Edgar A. Guest_ +Thick Is the Darkness...................... _William Ernest Henley_ +Things That Haven't Been Done Before, The.. _Edgar A. Guest_ +This World................................. _Frank L. Stanton_ +Times Go by Turns.......................... _Robert Southwell_ +Tit for Tat................................ _St. Clair Adams_ +To Althea from Prison...................... _Richard Lovelace_ +Toast to Merriment, A...................... _James W. Foley_ +To a Young Man............................. _Edgar A. Guest_ +To-day..................................... _Thomas Carlyle_ +To-day..................................... _Douglas Malloch_ +To Melancholy.............................. _John Kendrick Bangs_ +To the Men Who Lose........................ _Anonymous_ +To Those Who Fail.......................... _Joaquin Miller_ +To Youth After Pain........................ _Margaret Widdemer_ +Trainers, The.............................. _Grantland Rice_ +Two at a Fireside.......................... _Edwin Markham_ +Two Raindrops.............................. _Joseph Morris_ + +Ultimate Act............................... _Henry Bryan Binns_ +Ulysses.................................... _Alfred Tennyson_ +Unafraid................................... _Everard Jack Appleton_ +Undismayed................................. _James W. Foley_ +Unmusical Soloist, The..................... _Joseph Morris_ +Unsubdued.................................. _S.E. Kiser_ + +Victory.................................... _Miriam Teichner_ +Victory in Defeat.......................... _Edwin Markham_ + +Wanted--a Man.............................. _St. Clair Adams_ +Welcome Man, The........................... _Walt Mason_ +What Dark Days Do.......................... _Everard Jack Appleton_ +When Earth's Last Picture Is Painted....... _Rudyard Kipling_ +When Nature Wants a Man.................... _Angela Morgan_ +Will....................................... _Alfred Tennyson_ +Will....................................... _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ +Wisdom of Folly, The....................... _Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler_ +Wishing.................................... _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ +Woman Who Understands, The................. _Everard Jack Appleton_ +Word, The.................................. _John Kendrick Bangs_ +Work....................................... _Angela Morgan_ +Work....................................... _Henry Van Dyke_ +World Is Against Me, The................... _Edgar A. Guest_ +Worth While................................ _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ + +You May Count That Day..................... _George Eliot_ +Your Mission............................... _Ellen M.H. Gates_ + + + + + +IT CAN BE DONE + + + + +BE THE BEST OF WHATEVER YOU ARE + + +We all dream of great deeds and high positions, away from the pettiness +and humdrum of ordinary life. Yet success is not occupying a lofty place +or doing conspicuous work; it is being the best that is in you. Rattling +around in too big a job is much worse than filling a small one to +overflowing. Dream, aspire by all means; but do not ruin the life you +must lead by dreaming pipe-dreams of the one you would like to lead. +Make the most of what you have and are. Perhaps your trivial, immediate +task is your one sure way of proving your mettle. Do the thing near at +hand, and great things will come to your hand to be done. + + + If you can't be a pine on the top of the hill + Be a scrub in the valley--but be + The best little scrub by the side of the rill; + Be a bush if you can't be a tree. + + If you can't be a bush be a bit of the grass, + And some highway some happier make; + If you can't be a muskie then just be a bass-- + But the liveliest bass in the lake! + + We can't all be captains, we've got to be crew, + There's something for all of us here. + There's big work to do and there's lesser to do, + And the task we must do is the near. + + If you can't be a highway then just be a trail, + If you can't be the sun be a star; + It isn't by size that you win or you fail-- + Be the best of whatever you are! + + +_Douglas Malloch._ + + + + +THE HOUSE BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD + + +This poem has as its keynote friendship and sympathy for other people. +It is a paradox of life that by hoarding love and happiness we lose +them, and that only by giving them away can we keep them for ourselves. +The more we share, the more we possess. We of course find in other +people weaknesses and sins, but our best means of curing these are +through a wise and sympathetic understanding. + + + Let me live in a house by the side of the road, + Where the race of men go by-- + The men who are good and the men who are bad, + As good and as bad as I. + I would not sit in the scorner's seat, + Or hurl the cynic's ban;-- + Let me live in a house by the side of the road + And be a friend to man. + + I see from my house by the side of the road, + By the side of the highway of life, + The men who press with the ardor of hope, + The men who are faint with the strife. + But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears-- + Both parts of an infinite plan;-- + Let me live in my house by the side of the road + And be a friend to man. + + I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead + And mountains of wearisome height; + And the road passes on through the long afternoon + And stretches away to the night. + But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice, + And weep with the strangers that moan, + Nor live in my house by the side of the road + Like a man who dwells alone. + + Let me live in my house by the side of the road + Where the race of men go by-- + They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong, + Wise, foolish--so am I. + Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat + Or hurl the cynic's ban?-- + Let me live in my house by the side of the road + And be a friend to man. + + +_Sam Walter Foss._ + +From "Dreams in Homespun." + + + + +FOUR THINGS + + +What are the qualities of ideal manhood? Various people have given +various answers to this question. Here the poet states what qualities he +thinks indispensable. + + + Four things a man must learn to do + If he would make his record true: + To think without confusion clearly; + To love his fellow-men sincerely; + To act from honest motives purely; + To trust in God and Heaven securely. + + +_Henry Van Dyke._ + +From "Collected Poems." + + + + +IF + + +The central idea of this poem is that success comes from self-control +and a true sense of the values of things. In extremes lies danger. A man +must not lose heart because of doubts or opposition, yet he must do his +best to see the grounds for both. He must not be deceived into thinking +either triumph or disaster final; he must use each wisely--and push on. +In all things he must hold to the golden mean. If he does, he will own +the world, and even better, for his personal reward he will attain the +full stature of manhood. + + + If you can keep your head when all about you + Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, + If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, + But make allowance for their doubting too; + If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, + Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, + Or being hated don't give way to hating, + And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: + + If you can dream--and not make dreams your master; + If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim, + If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster + And treat those two imposters just the same; + If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken + Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, + Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, + And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: + + If you can make one heap of all your winnings + And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, + And lose, and start again at your beginnings + And never breathe a word about your loss; + If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew + To serve your turn long after they are gone, + And so hold on when there is nothing in you + Except the Will which says to them; "Hold on!" + + If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, + Or walk with Kings--nor lose the common touch, + If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, + If all men count with you, but none too much; + If you can fill the unforgiving minute + With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, + Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, + And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son! + + +_Rudyard Kipling._ + +From "Rudyard Kipling's Verse, 1885-1918." + + + + +INVICTUS + + +Triumph in spirit over adverse conditions is the keynote of this poem of +courage undismayed. It rings with the power of the individual to guide +his own destiny. + + + Out of the night that covers me, + Black as the Pit from pole to pole, + I thank whatever gods may be + For my unconquerable soul. + + In the fell clutch of circumstance + I have not winced nor cried aloud. + Under the bludgeonings of chance + My head is bloody, but unbowed. + + Beyond this place of wrath and tears + Looms but the Horror of the shade, + And yet the menace of the years + Finds, and shall find, me unafraid. + + It matters not how strait the gate, + How charged with punishments the scroll, + I am the master of my fate: + I am the captain of my soul. + + +_William Ernest Henley._ + + + + +IT COULDN'T BE DONE + + +After a thing has been done, everybody is ready to declare it easy. But +before it has been done, it is called impossible. One reason why people +fear to embark upon great enterprises is that they see all the +difficulties at once. They know they could succeed in the initial tasks, +but they shrink from what is to follow. Yet "a thing begun is half +done." Moreover the surmounting of the first barrier gives strength and +ingenuity for the harder ones beyond. Mountains viewed from a distance +seem to be unscalable. But they can be climbed, and the way to begin is +to take the first upward step. From that moment the mountains are less +high. As Hannibal led his army across the foothills, then among the +upper ranges, and finally over the loftiest peaks and passes of the +Alps, or as Peary pushed farther and farther into the solitudes that +encompass the North Pole, so can you achieve any purpose whatsoever if +you heed not the doubters, meet each problem as it arises, and keep ever +with you the assurance _It Can Be Done_. + + + Somebody said that it couldn't be done, + But he with a chuckle replied + That "maybe it couldn't," but he would be one + Who wouldn't say so till he'd tried. + So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin + On his face. If he worried he hid it. + He started to sing as he tackled the thing + That couldn't be done, and he did it. + + Somebody scoffed: "Oh, you'll never do that; + At least no one ever has done it"; + But he took off his coat and he took off his hat, + And the first thing we knew he'd begun it. + With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin, + Without any doubting or quiddit, + He started to sing as he tackled the thing + That couldn't be done, and he did it. + + There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done, + There are thousands to prophesy failure; + There are thousands to point out to you one by one, + The dangers that wait to assail you. + But just buckle in with a bit of a grin, + Just take off your coat and go to it; + Just start to sing as you tackle the thing + That "cannot be done," and you'll do it. + + +_Edgar A. Guest._ + +From "The Path to Home." + + + + +THE WELCOME MAN + + + There's a man in the world who is never turned down, wherever + he chances to stray; he gets the glad hand in the populous + town, or out where the farmers make hay; he's greeted with + pleasure on deserts of sand, and deep in the aisles of the + woods; wherever he goes there's the welcoming hand--he's The + Man Who Delivers the Goods. The failures of life sit around and + complain; the gods haven't treated them white; they've lost + their umbrellas whenever there's rain, and they haven't their + lanterns at night; men tire of the failures who fill with their + sighs the air of their own neighborhoods; there's one who is + greeted with love-lighted eyes--he's The Man Who Delivers the + Goods. One fellow is lazy, and watches the clock, and waits for + the whistle to blow; and one has a hammer, with which he will + knock, and one tells a story of woe; and one, if requested to + travel a mile, will measure the perches and roods; but one does + his stunt with a whistle or smile--he's The Man Who Delivers + the Goods. One man is afraid that he'll labor too hard--the + world isn't yearning for such; and one man is always alert, on + his guard, lest he put in a minute too much; and one has a + grouch or a temper that's bad, and one is a creature of moods; + so it's hey for the joyous and rollicking lad--for the One Who + Delivers the Goods! + + +_Walt Mason._ + +From "Walt Mason, His Book." + + + + +THE QUITTER + + +In the famous naval duel between the _Bonhomme Richard_ and the +_Serapis_, John Paul Jones was hailed by his adversary to know whether +he struck his colors. "I have not yet begun to fight," was his answer. +When the surrender took place, it was not Jones's ship that became the +prize of war. Everybody admires a hard fighter--the man who takes +buffets standing up, and in a spirit of "Never say die" is always ready +for more. + + + When you're lost in the wild and you're scared as a child, + And death looks you bang in the eye; + And you're sore as a boil, it's according to Hoyle + To cock your revolver and die. + But the code of a man says fight all you can, + And self-dissolution is barred; + In hunger and woe, oh it's easy to blow-- + It's the hell served for breakfast that's hard. + + You're sick of the game? Well now, that's a shame! + You're young and you're brave and you're bright. + You've had a raw deal, I know, but don't squeal. + Buck up, do your damnedest and fight! + It's the plugging away that will win you the day, + So don't be a piker, old pard; + Just draw on your grit; it's so easy to quit-- + It's the keeping your chin up that's hard. + + It's easy to cry that you're beaten and die, + It's easy to crawfish and crawl, + But to fight and to fight when hope's out of sight, + Why, that's the best game of them all. + And though you come out of each grueling bout, + All broken and beaten and scarred-- + Just have one more try. It's dead easy to die, + It's the keeping on living that's hard. + + +_Robert W. Service._ + +From "Rhymes of a Rolling Stone." + + + +[Illustration: ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE] + + + + +FRIENDS OF MINE + + +We like to be hospitable. To what should we be more hospitable than a +glad spirit or a kind impulse? + + + Good-morning, Brother Sunshine, + Good-morning, Sister Song, + I beg your humble pardon + If you've waited very long. + I thought I heard you rapping, + To shut you out were sin, + My heart is standing open, + Won't you + walk + right + in? + + Good-morning, Brother Gladness, + Good-morning, Sister Smile, + They told me you were coming, + So I waited on a while. + I'm lonesome here without you, + A weary while it's been, + My heart is standing open, + Won't you + walk + right + in? + + Good-morning, Brother Kindness, + Good-morning, Sister Cheer, + I heard you were out calling, + So I waited for you here. + Some way, I keep forgetting + I have to toil or spin + When you are my companions, + Won't you + walk + right + in? + + +_James W. Foley._ + +From "The Voices of Song." + + + + +THE WOMAN WHO UNDERSTANDS + + +"Is this the little woman that made this great war?" was Lincoln's +greeting to Harriet Beecher Stowe. Often a woman is responsible for +events by whose crash and splendor she herself is obscured. Often too +she shapes the career of husband or brother or son. A man succeeds and +reaps the honors of public applause, when in truth a quiet little woman +has made it all possible--has by her tact and encouragement held him to +his best, has had faith in him when his own faith has languished, has +cheered him with the unfailing assurance, "You can, you must, you will." + + +_Somewhere she waits to make you win, your soul in her firm, white hands-- +Somewhere the gods have made for you, the Woman Who Understands!_ + + As the tide went out she found him + Lashed to a spar of Despair, + The wreck of his Ship around him-- + The wreck of his Dreams in the air; + Found him and loved him and gathered + The soul of him close to her heart-- + The soul that had sailed an uncharted sea, + The soul that had sought to win and be free-- + The soul of which _she_ was part! + And there in the dusk she cried to the man, + "Win your battle--you can, you can!" + + Broken by Fate, unrelenting, + Scarred by the lashings of Chance; + Bitter his heart--unrepenting-- + Hardened by Circumstance; + Shadowed by Failure ever, + Cursing, he would have died, + But the touch of her hand, her strong warm hand, + And her love of his soul, took full command, + Just at the turn of the tide! + Standing beside him, filled with trust, + "Win!" she whispered, "you must, you must!" + + Helping and loving and guiding, + Urging when that were best, + Holding her fears in hiding + Deep in her quiet breast; + This is the woman who kept him + True to his standards lost, + When, tossed in the storm and stress of strife, + He thought himself through with the game of life + And ready to pay the cost. + Watching and guarding, whispering still, + "Win you can--and you will, you will!" + + This is the story of ages, + This is the Woman's way; + Wiser than seers or sages, + Lifting us day by day; + Facing all things with a courage + Nothing can daunt or dim, + Treading Life's path, wherever it leads-- + Lined with flowers or choked with weeds, + But ever with him--with him! + Guidon--comrade--golden spur-- + The men who win are helped by _her_! + +_Somewhere she waits, strong in belief, your soul in her firm, white hands: +Thank well the gods, when she comes to you--the Woman Who Understands!_ + + +_Everard Jack Appleton._ + +From "The Quiet Courage." + + + + +WANTED--A MAN + + +Business and the world are exacting in their demands upon us. They make +no concessions to half-heartedness, incompetence, or plodding mediocrity. +But for the man who has proved his worth and can do the exceptional +things with originality and sound judgment, they are eagerly watchful +and have rich rewards. + + + You say big corporations scheme + To keep a fellow down; + They drive him, shame him, starve him too + If he so much as frown. + God knows I hold no brief for them; + Still, come with me to-day + And watch those fat directors meet, + For this is what they say: + + "In all our force not one to take + The new work that we plan! + In all the thousand men we've hired + Where shall we find a man?" + + The world is shabby in the way + It treats a fellow too; + It just endures him while he works, + And kicks him when he's through. + It's ruthless, yes; let him make good, + Or else it grabs its broom + And grumbles: "What a clutter's here! + We can't have this. Make room!" + + And out he goes. It says, "Can bread + Be made from mouldy bran? + The men come swarming here in droves, + But where'll I find a man?" + + Yes, life is hard. But all the same + It seeks the man who's best. + Its grudging makes the prizes big; + The obstacle's a test. + Don't ask to find the pathway smooth, + To march to fife and drum; + The plum-tree will not come to you; + Jack Horner, hunt the plum. + + The eyes of life are yearning, sad, + As humankind they scan. + She says, "Oh, there are men enough, + But where'll I find a man?" + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +IF I SHOULD DIE + + +A man whose word is as good as his bond is a man the world admires. It +is related of Fox that a tradesman whom he long had owed money found him +one day counting gold and asked for payment. Fox replied: "No; I owe +this money to Sheridan. It is a debt of honor. If an accident should +happen to me, he has nothing to show." The tradesman tore his note to +pieces: "I change my debt into a debt of honor." Fox thanked him and +handed over the money, saying that Sheridan's debt was not of so long +standing and that Sheridan must wait. But most of us know men who are +less scrupulous than Fox. + + + If I should die to-night + And you should come to my cold corpse and say, + Weeping and heartsick o'er my lifeless clay-- + If I should die to-night, + And you should come in deepest grief and woe-- + And say: "Here's that ten dollars that I owe," + I might arise in my large white cravat + And say, "What's that?" + + If I should die to-night + And you should come to my cold corpse and kneel, + Clasping my bier to show the grief you feel, + I say, if I should die to-night + And you should come to me, and there and then + Just even hint 'bout payin' me that ten, + I might arise the while, + But I'd drop dead again. + + +_Ben King._ + +From "Ben King's Verse." + + + + +JUST BE GLAD + + +Misfortunes overtake us, difficulties confront us; but these things must +not induce us to give up. A Congressman who had promised Thomas B. Reed +to be present at a political meeting telegraphed at the last moment: +"Cannot come; washout on the line." "No need to stay away," said Reed's +answering telegram; "buy another shirt." + + + O heart of mine, we shouldn't + Worry so! + What we've missed of calm we couldn't + Have, you know! + What we've met of stormy pain, + And of sorrow's driving rain, + We can better meet again, + If it blow! + + We have erred in that dark hour + We have known, + When our tears fell with the shower, + All alone!-- + Were not shine and shower blent + As the gracious Master meant?-- + Let us temper our content + With His own. + + For, we know, not every morrow + Can be sad; + So, forgetting all the sorrow + We have had, + Let us fold away our fears, + And put by our foolish tears, + And through all the coming years + Just be glad. + + +_James Whitcomb Riley._ + +From the Biographical Edition Of the +Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley. + + + + +OPPORTUNITY + + +"I lack only one of having a hundred," said a student after an +examination; "I have the two naughts." And all he did lack was a one, +_rightly placed_. The world is full of opportunities. Discernment to +perceive, courage to undertake, patience to carry through, will change +the whole aspect of the universe for us and bring positive achievement +out of meaningless negation. + + + With doubt and dismay you are smitten + You think there's no chance for you, son? + Why, the best books haven't been written + The best race hasn't been run, + The best score hasn't been made yet, + The best song hasn't been sung, + The best tune hasn't been played yet, + Cheer up, for the world is young! + + No chance? Why the world is just eager + For things that you ought to create + Its store of true wealth is still meagre + Its needs are incessant and great, + It yearns for more power and beauty + More laughter and love and romance, + More loyalty, labor and duty, + No chance--why there's nothing but chance! + + For the best verse hasn't been rhymed yet, + The best house hasn't been planned, + The highest peak hasn't been climbed yet, + The mightiest rivers aren't spanned, + Don't worry and fret, faint hearted, + The chances have just begun, + For the Best jobs haven't been started, + The Best work hasn't been done. + + +_Berton Braley._ + +From "A Banjo at Armageddon." + + + + +SOLITUDE + + +Said an Irishman who had several times been kicked downstairs: "I begin +to think they don't want me around here." So it is with our sorrows, our +struggles. Life decrees that they belong to us individually. If we try +to make others share them, we are shunned. But struggling and weary +humanity is glad enough to share our joys. + + + Laugh, and the world laughs with you; + Weep, and you weep alone; + For the sad old earth + Must borrow its mirth, + It has trouble enough of its own. + + Sing, and the hills will answer; + Sigh, it is lost on the air; + The echoes bound + To a joyful sound, + But shrink from voicing care. + + Rejoice, and men will seek you; + Grieve, and they turn and go; + They want full measure + Of all your pleasure, + But they do not want your woe. + + Be glad, and your friends are many; + Be sad, and you lose them all; + There are none to decline + Your nectared wine, + But alone you must drink life's gall. + + Feast, and your halls are crowded; + Fast, and the world goes by; + Succeed and give, + And it helps you live, + But it cannot help you die. + + There is room in the halls of pleasure + For a long and lordly train; + But one by one + We must all file on + Through the narrow aisles of pain. + + +_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._ + +From "How Salvator Won." + + + + +UNSUBDUED + + +"An artist's career," said Whistler, "always begins to-morrow." So does +the career of any man of courage and imagination. The Eden of such a man +does not lie in yesterday. If he has done well, he forgets his +achievements and dreams of the big deeds ahead. If he has been thwarted, +he forgets his failures and looks forward to vast, sure successes. If +fate itself opposes him, he defies it. Farragut's fleet was forcing an +entrance into Mobile Bay. One of the vessels struck something, a +terrific explosion followed, the vessel went down. "Torpedoes, sir." +They scanned the face of the commander-in-chief. But Farragut did not +hesitate. "Damn the torpedoes," said he. "Go ahead." + + + I have hoped, I have planned, I have striven, + To the will I have added the deed; + The best that was in me I've given, + I have prayed, but the gods would not heed. + + I have dared and reached only disaster, + I have battled and broken my lance; + I am bruised by a pitiless master + That the weak and the timid call Chance. + + I am old, I am bent, I am cheated + Of all that Youth urged me to win; + But name me not with the defeated, + To-morrow again, I begin. + + +_S.E. Kiser._ + +From "Poems That Have Helped Me." + + + + +WORK + +"A SONG OF TRIUMPH" + + +When Captain John Smith was made the leader of the colonists at +Jamestown, Va., he discouraged the get-rich-quick seekers of gold by +announcing flatly, "He who will not work shall not eat." This rule made +of Jamestown the first permanent English settlement in the New World. +But work does more than lead to material success. It gives an outlet +from sorrow, restrains wild desires, ripens and refines character, +enables human beings to cooperate with God, and when well done, brings +to life its consummate satisfaction. Every man is a Prince of +Possibilities, but by work alone can he come into his Kingship. + + + Work! + Thank God for the might of it, + The ardor, the urge, the delight of it-- + Work that springs from the heart's desire, + Setting the brain and the soul on fire-- + Oh, what is so good as the heat of it, + And what is so glad as the beat of it, + And what is so kind as the stern command, + Challenging brain and heart and hand? + + Work! + Thank God for the pride of it, + For the beautiful, conquering tide of it. + Sweeping the life in its furious flood, + Thrilling the arteries, cleansing the blood, + Mastering stupor and dull despair, + Moving the dreamer to do and dare. + Oh, what is so good as the urge of it, + And what is so glad as the surge of it, + And what is so strong as the summons deep, + Rousing the torpid soul from sleep? + + Work! + Thank God for the pace of it, + For the terrible, keen, swift race of it; + Fiery steeds in full control, + Nostrils a-quiver to greet the goal. + Work, the Power that drives behind, + Guiding the purposes, taming the mind, + Holding the runaway wishes back, + Reining the will to one steady track, + Speeding the energies faster, faster, + Triumphing over disaster. + Oh, what is so good as the pain of it, + And what is so great as the gain of it? + And what is so kind as the cruel goad, + Forcing us on through the rugged road? + + Work! + Thank God for the swing of it, + For the clamoring, hammering ring of it, + Passion and labor daily hurled + On the mighty anvils of the world. + Oh, what is so fierce as the flame of it? + And what is so huge as the aim of it? + Thundering on through dearth and doubt, + Calling the plan of the Maker out. + Work, the Titan; Work, the friend, + Shaping the earth to a glorious end, + Draining the swamps and blasting the hills, + Doing whatever the Spirit wills-- + Rending a continent apart, + To answer the dream of the Master heart. + Thank God for a world where none may shirk-- + Thank God for the splendor of work! + + +_Angela Morgan._ + +From "The Hour Has Struck." + + + + +HOW DID YOU DIE? + + +Grant at Ft. Donelson demanded unconditional and immediate surrender. At +Appomattox he offered as lenient terms as victor ever extended to +vanquished. Why the difference? The one event was at the beginning of +the war, when the enemy's morale must be shaken. The other was at the +end of the conflict, when a brave and noble adversary had been rendered +helpless. In his quiet way Grant showed himself one of nature's +gentlemen. He also taught a great lesson. No honor can be too great for +the man, be he even our foe, who has steadily and uncomplainingly done +his very best--and has failed. + + + Did you tackle that trouble that came your way + With a resolute heart and cheerful? + Or hide your face from the light of day + With a craven soul and fearful? + Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce, + Or a trouble is what you make it, + And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts, + But only how did you take it? + + You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that! + Come up with a smiling face. + It's nothing against you to fall down flat, + But to lie there--that's disgrace. + The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce + Be proud of your blackened eye! + It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts; + It's how did you fight--and why? + + And though you be done to the death, what then? + If you battled the best you could, + If you played your part in the world of men, + Why, the Critic will call it good. + Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce, + And whether he's slow or spry, + It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts, + But only how did you die? + + +_Edmund Vance Cooke._ + +From "Impertinent Poems." + + + + +A LESSON FROM HISTORY + + +To break the ice of an undertaking is difficult. To cross on broken ice, +as Eliza did to freedom, or to row amid floating ice, as Washington did +to victory, is harder still. This poem applies especially to those who +are discouraged in a struggle to which they are already committed. + + + Everything's easy after it's done; + Every battle's a "cinch" that's won; + Every problem is clear that's solved-- + The earth was round when it _revolved!_ + But Washington stood amid grave doubt + With enemy forces camped about; + He could not know how he would fare + Till _after_ he'd crossed the Delaware. + + Though the river was full of ice + He did not think about it twice, + But started across in the dead of night, + The enemy waiting to open the fight. + Likely feeling pretty blue, + Being human, same as you, + But he was brave amid despair, + And Washington crossed the Delaware! + + So when you're with trouble beset, + And your spirits are soaking wet, + When all the sky with clouds is black, + Don't lie down upon your back + And look at _them_. Just do the thing; + Though you are choked, still try to sing. + If times are dark, believe them fair, + And you will cross the Delaware! + + +_Joseph Morris._ + + + + +RABBI BEN EZRA + +(SELECTED VERSES) + + +To some people success is everything, and the easier it is gained the +better. To Browning success is nothing unless it is won by painful +effort. What Browning values is struggle. Throes, rebuffs, even failure +to achieve what we wish, are to be welcomed, for the effects of vigorous +endeavor inweave themselves into our characters; moreover through +struggle we lift ourselves from the degradation into which the indolent +fall. In the intervals of strife we may look back dispassionately upon +what we have gone through, see where we erred and where we did wisely, +watch the workings of universal laws, and resolve to apply hereafter +what we have hitherto learned. + + + Then, welcome each rebuff + That turns earth's smoothness rough, + Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand but go! + Be our joys three-parts pain! + Strive, and hold cheap the strain; + Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the throe! + + For thence,--a paradox + Which comforts while it mocks,-- + Shall life succeed in that it seems to fail: + What I aspired to be, + And was not, comforts me: + A brute I might have been, but would not sink i' the scale. + + So, still within this life, + Though lifted o'er its strife, + Let me discern, compare, pronounce at last, + "This rage was right i' the main, + That acquiescence vain: + The Future I may face now I have proved the Past." + + For more is not reserved + To man, with soul just nerved + To act to-morrow what he learns to-day: + Here, work enough to watch + The Master work, and catch + Hints of the proper craft, tricks of the tool's true play. + + +_Robert Browning._ + + + + +TO MELANCHOLY + + +The last invitation anybody would accept is "Come, let us weep +together." If we keep melancholy at our house, we should be careful to +have it under lock and key, so that no one will observe it. + + + Melancholy, + Melancholy, + I've no use for you, by Golly! + Yet I'm going to keep you hidden + In some chamber dark, forbidden, + Just as though you were a prize, sir, + Made of gold, and I a miser-- + Not because I think you jolly, + Melancholy! + Not for that I mean to hoard you, + Keep you close and lodge and board you + As I would my sisters, brothers, + Cousins, aunts, and old grandmothers, + But that you shan't bother others + With your sniffling, snuffling folly, + Howling, + Yowling, + Melancholy. + + +_John Kendrick Bangs._ + +From "Songs of Cheer." + + + + +THE LION PATH + + +Admiral Dupont was explaining to Farragut his reasons for not taking his +ironclads into Charleston harbor. "You haven't given me the main reason +yet," said Farragut. "What's that?" "You didn't think you could do it." +So the man who thinks he can't pass a lion, can't. But the man who +thinks he can, can. Indeed he oftentimes finds that the lion isn't +really there at all. + + + I dare not!-- + Look! the road is very dark-- + The trees stir softly and the bushes shake, + The long grass rustles, and the darkness moves + Here! there! beyond--! + There's something crept across the road just now! + And you would have me go--? + Go _there_, through that live darkness, hideous + With stir of crouching forms that wait to kill? + Ah, _look_! See there! and there! and there again! + Great yellow, glassy eyes, close to the ground! + Look! Now the clouds are lighter I can see + The long slow lashing of the sinewy tails, + And the set quiver of strong jaws that wait--! + Go there? Not I! Who dares to go who sees + So perfectly the lions in the path? + + Comes one who dares. + Afraid at first, yet bound + On such high errand as no fear could stay. + Forth goes he, with lions in his path. + And then--? + He dared a death of agony-- + Outnumbered battle with the king of beasts-- + Long struggles in the horror of the night-- + Dared, and went forth to meet--O ye who fear! + Finding an empty road, and nothing there-- + And fences, and the dusty roadside trees-- + Some spitting kittens, maybe, in the grass. + + +_Charlotte Perkins Gilman._ + +From "In This Our World." + + + + +THE ANSWER + + +Bob Fitzsimmons lacked the physical bulk of the men he fought, was +ungainly in build and movement, and not infrequently got himself floored +in the early rounds of his contests. But many people consider him the +best fighter for his weight who ever stepped into the prize ring. Not a +favorite at first, he won the popular heart by making good. Of course he +had great natural powers; from any position when the chance at last came +he could dart forth a sudden, wicked blow that no human being could +withstand. But more formidable still was the spirit which gave him cool +and complete command of all his resources, and made him most dangerous +when he was on the verge of being knocked out. + + + When the battle breaks against you and the crowd forgets to cheer + When the Anvil Chorus echoes with the essence of a jeer; + When the knockers start their panning in the knocker's nimble way + With a rap for all your errors and a josh upon your play-- + There is one quick answer ready that will nail them on the wing; + There is one reply forthcoming that will wipe away the sting; + There is one elastic come-back that will hold them, as it should-- + Make good. + + No matter where you finish in the mix-up or the row, + There are those among the rabble who will pan you anyhow; + But the entry who is sticking and delivering the stuff + Can listen to the yapping as he giggles up his cuff; + The loafer has no come-back and the quitter no reply + When the Anvil Chorus echoes, as it will, against the sky; + But there's one quick answer ready that will wrap them in a hood-- + Make good. + + +_Grantland Rice._ + +From "The Sportlight." + + + + +THE WORLD IS AGAINST ME + + +Babe Ruth doesn't complain that opposing pitchers try to strike him out; +he swings at the ball till he swats it for four bases. Ty Cobb doesn't +complain that whole teams work wits and muscles overtime to keep him +from stealing home; he pits himself against them all and comes galloping +or hurdling or sliding in. What other men can do any man can do if he +works long enough with a brave enough heart. + + + "The world is against me," he said with a sigh. + "Somebody stops every scheme that I try. + The world has me down and it's keeping me there; + I don't get a chance. Oh, the world is unfair! + When a fellow is poor then he can't get a show; + The world is determined to keep him down low." + + "What of Abe Lincoln?" I asked. "Would you say + That he was much richer than you are to-day? + He hadn't your chance of making his mark, + And his outlook was often exceedingly dark; + Yet he clung to his purpose with courage most grim + And he got to the top. Was the world against him? + + "What of Ben Franklin? I've oft heard it said + That many a time he went hungry to bed. + He started with nothing but courage to climb, + But patiently struggled and waited his time. + He dangled awhile from real poverty's limb, + Yet he got to the top. Was the world against him? + + "I could name you a dozen, yes, hundreds, I guess, + Of poor boys who've patiently climbed to success; + All boys who were down and who struggled alone, + Who'd have thought themselves rich if your fortune they'd known; + Yet they rose in the world you're so quick to condemn, + And I'm asking you now, was the world against them?" + + +_Edgar A. Guest._ + +From "Just Folks." + + + + +SAY NOT THE STRUGGLE NOUGHT AVAILETH + + +In any large or prolonged enterprise we are likely to take too limited a +view of the progress we are making. The obstacles do not yield at some +given point; we therefore imagine we have made no headway. The poet here +uses three comparisons to show the folly of accepting this hasty and +partial evidence. A soldier may think, from the little part of the +battle he can see, that the day is going against him; but by holding his +ground stoutly he may help his comrades in another quarter to win the +victory. Successive waves may seem to rise no higher on the land, but +far back in swollen creek and inlet is proof that the tide is coming in. +As we look toward the east, we are discouraged at the slowness of +daybreak; but by looking westward we see the whole landscape illumined. + + + Say not the struggle nought availeth, + The labor and the wounds are vain, + The enemy faints not, nor faileth, + And as things have been they remain. + + If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars; + It may be, in yon smoke conceal'd, + Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers, + And, but for you, possess the field. + + For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, + Seem here no painful inch to gain, + Far back, through creeks and inlets making, + Comes silent, flooding in, the main. + + And not by eastern windows only, + When daylight comes, comes in the light, + In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly, + But westward, look, the land is bright. + + +_Arthur Hugh Clough._ + + + + +WORTH WHILE + + +A little boy whom his mother had rebuked for not turning a deaf ear to +temptation protested, with tears, that he had no deaf ear. But +temptation, even when heard, must somehow be resisted. Yea, especially +when heard! We deserve no credit for resisting it unless it comes to our +ears like the voice of the siren. + + + It is easy enough to be pleasant, + When life flows by like a song, + But the man worth while is one who will smile, + When everything goes dead wrong. + For the test of the heart is trouble, + And it always comes with the years, + And the smile that is worth the praises of earth, + Is the smile that shines through tears. + + It is easy enough to be prudent, + When nothing tempts you to stray, + When without or within no voice of sin + Is luring your soul away; + But it's only a negative virtue + Until it is tried by fire, + And the life that is worth the honor on earth, + Is the one that resists desire. + + By the cynic, the sad, the fallen, + Who had no strength for the strife, + The world's highway is cumbered to-day, + They make up the sum of life. + But the virtue that conquers passion, + And the sorrow that hides in a smile, + It is these that are worth the homage on earth + For we find them but once in a while. + + +_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._ + +From "Poems of Sentiment." + + + + +HOPE + + +Gloom and despair are really ignorance in another form. They fail to +reckon with the fact that what appears to be baneful often turns out to +be good. Lincoln lost the senatorship to Douglas and thought he had +ended his career; had he won the contest, he might have remained only a +senator. Life often has surprise parties for us. Things come to us +masked in gloom and black; but Time, the revealer, strips off the +disguise, and lo, what we have is blessings. + + + Never go gloomy, man with a mind, + Hope is a better companion than fear; + Providence, ever benignant and kind, + Gives with a smile what you take with a tear; + All will be right, + Look to the light. + Morning was ever the daughter of night; + All that was black will be all that is bright, + Cheerily, cheerily, then cheer up. + + Many a foe is a friend in disguise, + Many a trouble a blessing most true, + Helping the heart to be happy and wise, + With love ever precious and joys ever new. + Stand in the van, + Strike like a man! + This is the bravest and cleverest plan; + Trusting in God while you do what you can. + Cheerily, cheerily, then cheer up. + + +_Anonymous._ + + + + +I'M GLAD + + + I'm glad the sky is painted blue; + And the earth is painted green; + And such a lot of nice fresh air + All sandwiched in between. + + +_Anonymous._ + + + + +THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS + + +The nautilus is a small mollusk that creeps upon the bottom of the sea, +though it used to be supposed to swim, or even to spread a kind of sail +so that the wind might drive it along the surface. What interests us in +this poem is the way the nautilus _grows_. Just as a tree when sawed +down has the record of its age in the number of its rings, so does the +nautilus measure its age by the ever-widening compartments of its shell. +These it has successively occupied. The poet, looking upon the now empty +shell, thinks of human life as growing in the same way. We advance from +one state of being to another, each nobler than the one which preceded +it, until the spirit leaves its shell altogether and attains a glorious +and perfect freedom. + + + This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, + Sailed the unshadowed main,-- + The venturous bark that flings + On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings + In gulfs enchanted, where the Siren sings, + And coral reefs lie bare, + Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair. + + Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl; + Wrecked is the ship of pearl! + And every chambered cell, + Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell, + As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell, + Before thee lies revealed,-- + Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed! + + Year after year beheld the silent toil + That spread his lustrous coil; + Still, as the spiral grew, + He left the past year's dwelling for the new, + Stole with soft step its shining archway through, + Built up its idle door, + Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more. + + Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, + Child of the wandering sea, + Cast from her lap, forlorn! + From thy dead lips a clearer note is born + Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn! + While on mine ear it rings, + Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:-- + + Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, + As the swift seasons roll! + Leave thy low-vaulted past! + Let each new temple, nobler than the last, + Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, + Till thou at length art free, + Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea! + + +_Oliver Wendell Holmes._ + + + + +PIPPA'S SONG + + +This little song vibrates with an optimism that embraces the whole +universe. A frequent error in quoting it is the substitution of the word +_well_ for _right_. Browning is no such shallow optimist as to believe +that all is well with the world, but he does maintain that things are +right with the world, for in spite of its present evils it is slowly +working its way toward perfection, and in the great scheme of things it +may make these evils themselves an instrument to move it toward its +ultimate goal. + + + The year's at the spring + And day's at the morn; + Morning's at seven; + The hillside's dew-pearled; + The lark's on the wing; + The snail's on the thorn; + God's in his heaven-- + All's right with the world. + + +_Robert Browning._ + + + + +OWNERSHIP + + +The true value of anything lies, not in the object itself or in its +legal possession, but in our attitude to it. We may own a thing in fee +simple, yet derive from it nothing but vexation. For those who have +little, as indeed for those who have much, there are no surer means of +happiness than enjoying that which they do not possess. Emerson shows us +that two harvests may be gathered from every field--a material one by +the man who raised the crop, and an esthetic or spiritual one by +whosoever can see beauty or thrill with an inner satisfaction. + + + They ride in Packards, those swell guys, + While I can't half afford a Ford; + Choice fillets fill a void for them, + We've cheese and prunes the place I board; + They've smirking servants hanging round, + You'd guess by whom my shoes are shined. + But all the same I'm rich as they, + For ownership's a state of mind. + + _They_ own, you say? Pshaw, they possess! + And what a fellow has, has him! + The rich can't stop and just enjoy + Their lawns and shrubs and house-fronts trim. + They're tied indoors and foot the bills; + I stroll or stray, as I'm inclined-- + Possession was not meant for use, + But ownership's a state of mind. + + The folks who have must try to keep + Against the thieves who swarm and steal; + They dare not stride, they mince along-- + Their pavement's a banana peel. + Who owns, the jeweler or I, + Yon gems by window-bars confined? + Possession lies in locks and keys; + True ownership's a state of mind. + + I own my office (I've a boss, + But so have all men--so has he); + The business is not mine, but yet + I own the whole blamed company; + Stockholders are less proud than I + When competition's auld lang syned. + What care I that the profit's theirs? + I have what counts--an owner's mind. + + The pretty girls I meet are mine + (I do not choose to tell them so); + I own the flowers, the trees, the birds; + I own the sunshine and the snow; + I own the block, I own the town-- + The smiles, the songs of humankind. + For ownership is how you feel; + It's just a healthy state of mind. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +A SMILING PARADOX + + +Good nature or ill is like the loaves and fishes. The more we give away, +the more we have. + + + I've squandered smiles to-day, + And, strange to say, + Altho' my frowns with care I've stowed away, + To-night I'm poorer far in frowns than at the start; + While in my heart, + Wherein my treasures best I store, + I find my smiles increased by several score. + + +_John Kendrick Bangs._ + +From "Songs of Cheer." + + + + +THE NEW DUCKLING + + +There are people who, without having anything exceptional in their +natures or purposes or visions, yet try to be different for the sake of +being different. They are not content to be what they are; they wish to +be "utterly other." Of course they are hollow, artificial, insincere; +moreover they are nuisances. Their very foundations are wrong ones. Be +_yourself_ unless you're a fool; in that case, of course, try to be +somebody else. + + + "I want to be new," said the duckling. + "O ho!" said the wise old owl, + While the guinea-hen cluttered off chuckling + To tell all the rest of the fowl. + + "I should like a more elegant figure," + That child of a duck went on. + "I should like to grow bigger and bigger, + Until I could swallow a swan. + + "I _won't_ be the bond slave of habit, + I _won't_ have these webs on my toes. + I want to run round like a rabbit, + A rabbit as red as a rose. + + "I _don't_ want to waddle like mother, + Or quack like my silly old dad. + I want to be utterly other, + And _frightfully_ modern and mad." + + "Do you know," said the turkey, "you're quacking! + There's a fox creeping up thro' the rye; + And, if you're not utterly lacking, + You'll make for that duck-pond. Good-bye!" + + But the duckling was perky as perky. + "Take care of your stuffing!" he called. + (This was horribly rude to a turkey!) + "But you aren't a real turkey," he bawled. + + "You're an Early-Victorian Sparrow! + A fox is more fun than a sheep! + I shall show that _my_ mind is not narrow + And give him my feathers--to keep." + + Now the curious end of this fable, + So far as the rest ascertained, + Though they searched from the barn to the stable, + Was that _only his feathers remained._ + + So he _wasn't_ the bond slave of habit, + And he _didn't_ have webs on his toes; + And _perhaps_ he runs round like a rabbit, + A rabbit as red as a rose. + + +_Alfred Noyes._ + +From "Collected Poems." + + + + +CAN YOU SING A SONG? + + +Nothing lifts the spirit more than a song, especially the _inward_ song +of a worker who can sound it alike at the beginning of his task, in the +heat of midday, and in the weariness and cool of the evening. + + + Can you sing a song to greet the sun, + Can you cheerily tackle the work to be done, + Can you vision it finished when only begun, + Can you sing a song? + + Can you sing a song when the day's half through, + When even the thought of the rest wearies you, + With so little done and so much to do, + Can you sing a song? + + Can you sing a song at the close of the day, + When weary and tired, the work's put away, + With the joy that it's done the best of the pay, + Can you sing a song? + + +_Joseph Morris._ + + + + +KNOW THYSELF + + +It seems impossible that human beings could endure so much until we +realize that they _have_ endured it. The spirit of man performs +miracles; it transcends the limitations of flesh and blood. It is like +Uncle Remus's account of Brer Rabbit climbing a tree. "A rabbit couldn't +do that," the little boy protested. "He did," Uncle Remus responded; "he +was jes' 'bleeged to." + + + Reined by an unseen tyrant's hand, + Spurred by an unseen tyrant's will, + Aquiver at the fierce command + That goads you up the danger hill, + You cry: "O Fate, O Life, be kind! + Grant but an hour of respite--give + One moment to my suffering mind! + I can not keep the pace and live." + But Fate drives on and will not heed + The lips that beg, the feet that bleed. + Drives, while you faint upon the road, + Drives, with a menace for a goad; + With fiery reins of circumstance + Urging his terrible advance + The while you cry in your despair, + "The pain is more than I can bear!" + + Fear not the goad, fear not the pace, + Plead not to fall from out the race-- + It is your own Self driving you, + Your Self that you have never known, + Seeing your little self alone. + Your Self, high-seated charioteer, + Master of cowardice and fear, + Your Self that sees the shining length + Of all the fearful road ahead, + Knows that the terrors that you dread + Are pigmies to your splendid strength; + Strength you have never even guessed, + Strength that has never needed rest. + Your Self that holds the mastering rein, + Seeing beyond the sweat and pain + And anguish of your driven soul, + The patient beauty of the goal! + + Fighting upon the terror field + Where man and Fate came breast to breast, + Prest by a thousand foes to yield, + Tortured and wounded without rest, + You cried: "Be merciful, O Life-- + The strongest spirit soon must break + Before this all-unequal strife, + This endless fight for failure's sake!" + But Fate, unheeding, lifted high + His sword, and thrust you through to die, + And then there came one strong and great, + Who towered high o'er Chance and Fate, + Who bound your wound and eased your pain + And bade you rise and fight again. + And from some source you did not guess + Gushed a great tide of happiness-- + A courage mightier than the sun-- + You rose and fought and, fighting, won! + + It was your own Self saving you, + Your Self no man has ever known, + Looking on flesh and blood alone. + That Self that lives so close to God + As roots that feed upon the sod. + That one who stands behind the screen, + Looks through the window of your eyes-- + A being out of Paradise. + The Self no human eye has seen, + The living one who never tires, + Fed by the deep eternal fires. + Your flaming Self, with two-edged sword, + Made in the likeness of the Lord, + Angel and guardian at the gate, + Master of Death and King of Fate! + + +_Angela Morgan._ + +From "The Hour Has Struck." + + + + +JUST WHISTLE + + +There is a psychological benefit in the mere physical act of whistling. +When the body makes music, the spirit falls into harmonies too and the +discords that assail us cease to make themselves heard. + + + When times are bad an' folks are sad + An' gloomy day by day, + Jest try your best at lookin' glad + An' whistle 'em away. + + Don't mind how troubles bristle, + Jest take a rose or thistle. + Hold your own + An' change your tone + An' whistle, whistle, whistle! + + A song is worth a world o' sighs. + When red the lightnings play, + Look for the rainbow in the skies + An' whistle 'em away. + + Don't mind how troubles bristle, + The rose comes with the thistle. + Hold your own + An' change your tone + An' whistle, whistle, whistle! + + Each day comes with a life that's new, + A strange, continued story + But still beneath a bend o' blue + The world rolls on to glory. + + Don't mind how troubles bristle, + Jest take a rose or thistle. + Hold your own + An' change your tone + An' whistle, whistle, whistle! + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + + + +[Illustration: GRANTLAND RICE] + + + + +"MIGHT HAVE BEEN" + + +"Yes, it's pretty hard," the optimistic old woman admitted. "I have to +get along with only two teeth, one in the upper jaw and one in the +lower--but thank God, they meet." + + + Here's to "The days that might have been"; + Here's to "The life I might have led"; + The fame I might have gathered in-- + The glory ways I might have sped. + Great "Might Have Been," I drink to you + Upon a throne where thousands hail-- + And then--there looms another view-- + I also "might have been" in jail. + + O "Land of Might Have Been," we turn + With aching hearts to where you wait; + Where crimson fires of glory burn, + And laurel crowns the guarding gate; + We may not see across your fields + The sightless skulls that knew their woe-- + The broken spears--the shattered shields-- + That "might have been" as truly so. + + "Of all sad words of tongue or pen"-- + So wails the poet in his pain-- + The saddest are, "It might have been," + And world-wide runs the dull refrain. + The saddest? Yes--but in the jar + This thought brings to me with its curse, + I sometimes think the gladdest are + "It might have been a blamed sight worse." + + +_Grantland Rice._ + +From "The Sportlight." + + + + +THE ONE + + +In our youth we picture ourselves as we will be in the future--not mere +types of this or that kind of success, but above all and in all, Ideal +Men. Then come the years and the struggles, and we are buffeted and +baffled, and our very ideal is eclipsed. But others have done better +than we. Weary and harassed, they yet embody our visions. And we, if we +are worth our salt, do not envy them when we see them. Nor should we +grow dispirited. Rather should we rejoice in their triumph, rejoice that +our dreams were not impossibilities, take courage to strive afresh for +that which we know is best. + + + I knew his face the moment that he passed + Triumphant in the thoughtless, cruel throng,-- + Triumphant, though the quiet, tired eyes + Showed that his soul had suffered overlong. + And though across his brow faint lines of care + Were etched, somewhat of Youth still lingered there. + I gently touched his arm--he smiled at me-- + He was the Man that Once I Meant to Be! + + Where I had failed, he'd won from life, Success; + Where I had stumbled, with sure feet he stood; + Alike--yet unalike--we faced the world, + And through the stress he found that life was good + And I? The bitter wormwood in the glass, + The shadowed way along which failures pass! + Yet as I saw him thus, joy came to me-- + He was the Man that Once I Meant to Be! + + I knew him! And I knew he knew me for + The man HE might have been. Then did his soul + Thank silently the gods that gave him strength + To win, while I so sorely missed the goal? + He turned, and quickly in his own firm hand + He took my own--the gulf of Failure spanned, ... + And that was all--strong, self-reliant, free, + He was the Man that Once I Meant to Be! + + We did not speak. But in his sapient eyes + I saw the spirit that had urged him on, + The courage that had held him through the fight + Had once been mine, I thought, "Can it be gone?" + He felt that unasked question--felt it so + His pale lips formed the one-word answer, "No!" + + * * * * * + + Too late to win? No! Not too late for me-- + He is the Man that Still I Mean to Be! + + +_Everard Jack Appleton._ + +From "The Quiet Courage." + + + + +THE JOY OF LIVING + + +Men too often act as if life were nothing more than hardships to be +endured and difficulties to be overcome. They look upon what is happy or +inspiring with eyes that really fail to see. As Wordsworth says of Peter +Bell, + + "A primrose by the river's brim + A yellow primrose was to him, + And it was nothing more." + +But to stop now and then and realize that the world is fresh and buoyant +and happy, will do much to keep the spirit young. We should be glad that +we are alive, should tell ourselves often in the words of Charles Lamb: +"I am in love with this green earth." + + + The south wind is driving + His splendid cloud-horses + Through vast fields of blue. + The bare woods are singing, + The brooks in their courses + Are bubbling and springing + And dancing and leaping, + The violets peeping. + I'm glad to be living: + Aren't you? + + +_Gamaliel Bradford._ + + + + +THERE WILL ALWAYS BE SOMETHING TO DO + + +An old lady, famous for her ability to find in other people traits that +she could commend, was challenged to say a good word for the devil. +After a moment's hesitation she answered, "You must at least give him +credit for being industrious." Perhaps it is this superactivity of Satan +that causes beings less wickedly inclined to have such scope for the +exercise of their qualities. Certain it is that nobody need hang back +from want of something to do, to promote, to assail, to protect, to +endure, or to sympathize with. + + + There will always be something to do, my boy; + There will always be wrongs to right; + There will always be need for a manly breed + And men unafraid to fight. + There will always be honor to guard, my boy; + There will always be hills to climb, + And tasks to do, and battles new + From now till the end of time. + + There will always be dangers to face, my boy; + There will always be goals to take; + Men shall be tried, when the roads divide, + And proved by the choice they make. + There will always be burdens to bear, my boy; + There will always be need to pray; + There will always be tears through the future years, + As loved ones are borne away. + + There will always be God to serve, my boy, + And always the Flag above; + They shall call to you until life is through + For courage and strength and love. + So these are things that I dream, my boy, + And have dreamed since your life began: + That whatever befalls, when the old world calls, + It shall find you a sturdy man. + + +_Edgar A. Guest._ + +From "The Path to Home." + + + + +GOOD INTENTIONS + + +Thinking you would like a square meal will not in itself earn you one. +Thinking you would like a strong body will not without effort on your +part make you an athlete. Thinking you would like to be kind or +successful will not bring you gentleness or achievement if you stop with +mere thinking. The arrows of intention must have the bow of strong +purpose to impel them. + + + The road to hell, they assure me, + With good intentions is paved; + And I know my desires are noble, + But my deeds might brand me depraved. + It's the warped grain in our nature, + And St. Paul has written it true: + "The good that I would I do not; + But the evil I would not I do." + + I've met few men who are monsters + When I came to know them inside; + Yet their bearing and dealings external + Are crusted with cruelty, pride, + Scorn, selfishness, envy, indifference, + Greed--why the long list pursue? + The good that they would they do not; + But the evil they would not they do. + + Intentions may still leave us beast-like; + With unchangeable purpose we're men. + We must drive the nail home--and then clinch it + Or storms shake it loose again. + In things of great import, in trifles, + We our recreant souls must subdue + Till the evil we would not we do not + And the good that we would we do. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +PHILOSOPHY FOR CROAKERS + + +Many people seem to get pleasure in seeing all the bad there is, and in +making everything about them gloomy. They are like the old woman who on +being asked how her health was, replied: "Thank the Lord, I'm poorly." + + + Some folks git a heap o' pleasure + Out o' lookin' glum; + Hoard their cares like it was treasure-- + Fear they won't have some. + Wear black border on their spirit; + Hang their hopes with crape; + Future's gloomy and they fear it, + Sure there's no escape. + + Now there ain't no use of whining + Weightin' joy with lead; + There is silver in the linin' + Somewhere on ahead. + + Can't enjoy the sun to-day-- + It may rain to-morrow; + When a pain won't come their way, + Future pains they borrow. + If there's good news to be heard, + Ears are stuffed with cotton; + Evils dire are oft inferred; + Good is all forgotten. + + When upon a peel I stand, + Slippin' like a goner, + Luck, I trust, will shake my hand + Just around the corner. + + Keep a scarecrow in the yard, + Fierce old bulldog near 'em; + Chase off joy that's tryin' hard + To come in an' cheer 'em. + Wear their blinders big and strong, + Dodge each happy sight; + Like to keep their faces long; + Think the day is night. + + Now I've had my share of trouble; + Back been bent with ill; + Big load makes the joy seem double + When I mount the hill. + + Got the toothache in their soul; + Corns upon their feelin's; + Get their share but want the whole, + Say it's crooked dealings. + Natures steeped in indigo; + Got their joy-wires crossed; + Swear it's only weeds that grow; + Flowers always lost. + + Now it's best to sing a song + 'Stead o' sit and mourn; + Rose you'll find grows right along + Bigger than the thorn. + + Beat the frogs the way they croak; + See with goggles blue-- + Universe is cracked or broke, + 'Bout to split in two. + Think the world is full of sin, + Soon go up the spout; + Badness always movin' in, + Goodness movin' out. + + But I've found folks good and kind, + 'Cause I thought they would be; + Most men try, at least I find, + To be what they should be. + + +_Joseph Morris._ + + + + +THE FIGHTING FAILURE + + +"I'm not a rabid, preachy, pollyanna optimist. Neither am I a gloomy +grouch. I believe in a loving Divine Providence Who expects you to play +the Game to the limit, Who wants you to hold tight to His hand, and Who +compensates you for the material losses by giving you the ability to +retain your sense of values, and keep your spiritual sand out of the +bearings of your physical machine, if you'll trust and--'Keep Sweet, +Keep Cheerful, or else--Keep Still'"--_Everard Jack Appleton_. + + +He has come the way of the fighting men, and fought by the rules of the + Game, +And out of Life he has gathered--What? A living,--and little fame, +Ever and ever the Goal looms near,--seeming each time worth while; +But ever it proves a mirage fair--ever the grim gods smile. +And so, with lips hard set and white, he buries the hope that is gone,-- +His fight is lost--and he knows it is lost--and yet he is fighting on. + +Out of the smoke of the battle-line watching men win their way, +And, cheering with those who cheer success, he enters again the fray, +Licking the blood and the dust from his lips, wiping the sweat from his + eyes, +He does the work he is set to do--and "therein honor lies." +Brave they were, these men he cheered,--theirs is the winners' thrill; +_His_ fight is lost--and he knows it is lost--and yet he is fighting still. + +And those who won have rest and peace; and those who died have more; +But, weary and spent, he can not stop seeking the ultimate score; +Courage was theirs for a little time,--but what of the man who sees +That he must lose, yet will not beg mercy upon his knees? +Side by side with grim Defeat, he struggles at dusk or dawn,-- +His fight is lost--and he knows it is lost--and yet he is fighting on. + +Praise for the warriors who succeed, and tears for the vanquished dead; +The world will hold them close to her heart, wreathing each honored head, +But there in the ranks, soul-sick, time-tried, he battles against the odds, +_Sans_ hope, but true to his colors torn, the plaything of the gods! +Uncover when he goes by, at last! Held to his task by _will_ +The fight is lost--and he knows it is lost--and yet he is fighting still! + + +_Everard Jack Appleton._ + +From "The Quiet Courage." + + + + +DUTY + + +In a single sentence Emerson crystallizes the faith that nothing is +impossible to those whose guide is duty. His words, though spoken +primarily of youth, apply to the whole of human life. + + + So nigh is grandeur to our dust, + So near is God to man, + When duty whispers low, _Thou must_, + The youth replies, _I can_. + + +_Ralph Waldo Emerson._ + + + + +THE CALL OF THE UNBEATEN + + +P.T. Barnum had shrewdness, inventiveness, hair-trigger readiness in +acting or deciding, an eye for hidden possibilities, an instinct for +determining beforehand what would prove popular. All these qualities +helped him in his original and extraordinary career. But the quality he +valued most highly was the one he called "stick-to-it-iveness." This +completed the others. Without it the great showman could not have +succeeded at all. Nor did he think that any man who lacks it will make +much headway in life. + + + We know how rough the road will be, + How heavy here the load will be, + We know about the barricades that wait along the track; + But we have set our soul ahead + Upon a certain goal ahead + And nothing left from hell to sky shall ever turn us back. + + We know how brief all fame must be, + We know how crude the game must be, + We know how soon the cheering turns to jeering down the block; + But there's a deeper feeling here + That Fate can't scatter reeling here, + In knowing we have battled with the final ounce in stock. + + We sing of no wild glory now, + Emblazoning some story now + Of mighty charges down the field beyond some guarded pit; + But humbler tasks befalling us, + Set duties that are calling us, + Where nothing left from hell to sky shall ever make us quit. + + +_Grantland Rice._ + +From "The Sportlight." + + + + +POLONIUS'S ADVICE TO LAERTES + + +A father's advice to his son how to conduct himself in the world: Don't +tell all you think, or put into action thoughts out of harmony or +proportion with the occasion. Be friendly, but not common; don't dull +your palm by effusively shaking hands with every chance newcomer. Avoid +quarrels if you can, but if they are forced on you, give a good account +of yourself. Hear every man's censure (opinion), but express your own +ideas to few. Dress well, but not ostentatiously. Neither borrow nor +lend. And guarantee yourself against being false to others by setting up +the high moral principle of being true to yourself. + + + Give thy thoughts no tongue, + Nor any unproportion'd thought his act. + Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar; + The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, + Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel; + But do not dull thy palm with entertainment + Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware + Of entrance to a quarrel, but, being in, + Bear 't that th' opposed may beware of thee. + Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice; + Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. + Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, + But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy; + For the apparel oft proclaims the man. + + * * * * * + + Neither a borrower, nor a lender be; + For loan oft loses both itself and friend, + And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. + This above all: to thine own self be true, + And it must follow, as the night the day, + Thou canst not then be false to any man. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +HOW DO YOU TACKLE YOUR WORK? + + +It would be foolish to begin digging a tunnel through a mountain with a +mere pick and spade. We must assemble for the task great mechanical +contrivances. And so with our energies of will; a slight tool means a +slight achievement; a huge, aggressive engine, driving on at full blast, +means corresponding bigness of results. + + + How do you tackle your work each day? + Are you scared of the job you find? + Do you grapple the task that comes your way + With a confident, easy mind? + Do you stand right up to the work ahead + Or fearfully pause to view it? + Do you start to toil with a sense of dread + Or feel that you're going to do it? + + You can do as much as you think you can, + But you'll never accomplish more; + If you're afraid of yourself, young man, + There's little for you in store. + For failure comes from the inside first, + It's there if we only knew it, + And you can win, though you face the worst, + If you feel that you're going to do it. + + Success! It's found in the soul of you, + And not in the realm of luck! + The world will furnish the work to do, + But you must provide the pluck. + You can do whatever you think you can, + It's all in the way you view it. + It's all in the start you make, young man: + You must feel that you're going to do it. + + How do you tackle your work each day? + With confidence clear, or dread? + What to yourself do you stop and say + When a new task lies ahead? + What is the thought that is in your mind? + Is fear ever running through it? + If so, just tackle the next you find + By thinking you're going to do it. + + +_Edgar A. Guest._ + +From "A Heap o' Livin'." + + + + +MAN OR MANIKIN + + +The world does not always distinguish between appearance and true merit. +Pretence often gets the plaudits, but desert is above them--it has +rewards of its own. + + + No matter whence you came, from a palace or a ditch, + You're a man, man, man, if you square yourself to life; + And no matter what they say, hermit-poor or Midas-rich, + You are nothing but a husk if you sidestep strife. + + For it's do, do, do, with a purpose all your own, + That makes a man a man, whether born a serf or king; + And it's loaf, loaf, loaf, lolling on a bench or throne + That makes a being thewed to act a limp and useless thing! + + No matter what you do, miracles or fruitless deeds, + You're a man, man, man, if you do them with a will; + And no matter how you loaf, cursing wealth or mumbling creeds, + You are nothing but a noise, and its weight is nil. + + For it's be, be, be, champion of your heart and soul, + That makes a man a man, whether reared in silk or rags; + And it's talk, talk, talk, from a tattered shirt or stole, + That makes the image of a god a manikin that brags. + + +_Richard Butler Glaenzer._ + +From "Munsey's Magazine." + + + + +HAVING DONE AND DOING + +(ADAPTED FROM "TROILUS AND CRESSIDA") + + +A member of Parliament, having succeeded notably in his maiden effort at +speech-making, remained silent through the rest of his career lest he +should not duplicate his triumph. This course was stupid; in time the +address which had brought him fame became a theme for disparagement and +mockery. A man cannot rest upon his laurels, else he will soon lack the +laurels to rest on. If he has true ability, he must from time to time +show it, instead of asking us to recall what he did in the past. There +is a natural instinct which makes the whole world kin. It is distrust of +a mere reputation. It is a hankering to be shown. Unless the evidence to +set us right is forthcoming, we will praise dust which is gilded over +rather than gold which is dusty from disuse. + + + Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, + Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, + A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: + Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devoured + As fast as they are made, forgot as soon + As done: perseverance, dear my lord, + Keeps honor bright: to have done, is to hang + Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail + In monumental mockery. Take the instant way; + For honor travels in a strait so narrow + Where one but goes abreast: keep, then, the path; + For emulation hath a thousand sons + That one by one pursue: if you give way, + Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, + Like to an entered tide they all rush by + And leave you hindmost; + Or, like a gallant horse fallen in first rank, + Lie there for pavement to the abject rear, + O'errun and trampled on: then what they do in present, + Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours; + For time is like a fashionable host, + That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, + And with his arms outstretched, as he would fly, + Grasps in the comer: welcome ever smiles, + And farewell goes out sighing. O! let not virtue seek + Remuneration for the thing it was; for beauty, wit, + High birth, vigor of bone, desert in service, + Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all + To envious and calumniating time. + One touch of nature makes the whole world kin, + That all with one consent praise new-born gawds, + Though they are made and moulded of things past, + And give to dust that is a little gilt + More laud than gilt o'er-dusted. + The present eye praises the present object, + Since things in motion sooner catch the eye + Than what not stirs. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +FAITH + + +Faith is not a passive thing--mere believing or waiting. It is an active +thing--a positive striving and achievement, even if conditions be +untoward. + + + Faith is not merely praying + Upon your knees at night; + Faith is not merely straying + Through darkness to the light. + + Faith is not merely waiting + For glory that may be, + Faith is not merely hating + The sinful ecstasy. + + Faith is the brave endeavor + The splendid enterprise, + The strength to serve, whatever + Conditions may arise. + + +_S.E. Kiser._ + + + + +OPPORTUNITY + + +What is opportunity? To the brilliant mind of Senator Ingalls it is a +stupendous piece of luck. It comes once and once only to every human +being, wise or foolish, good or wicked. If it be not perceived on the +instant, it passes by forever. No longing for it, no effort, can bring +it back. Notice that this view is fatalistic; it makes opportunity an +external thing--one that enriches men or leaves their lives empty +without much regard to what they deserve. + + + Master of human destinies am I! + Fame, love, and fortune on my footsteps wait. + Cities and fields I walk; I penetrate + Deserts and seas remote, and passing by + Hovel and mart and palace--soon or late + I knock, unbidden, once at every gate! + If sleeping, wake--if feasting, rise before + I turn away. It is the hour of fate, + And they who follow me reach every state + Mortals desire, and conquer every foe + Save death; but those who doubt or hesitate, + Condemned to failure, penury, and woe, + Seek me in vain and uselessly implore. + I answer not, and I return no more! + + +_John James Ingalls._ + + + + +OPPORTUNITY + + +There is a tide in the affairs of men, +Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; +Omitted, all the voyage of their life +Is bound in shallows and in miseries. +On such a full sea are we now afloat; +And we must take the current when it serves, +Or lose our ventures. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +OPPORTUNITY + + +To the thought of the preceding poem we have here a direct answer. No +matter how a man may have failed in the past, the door of opportunity is +always open to him. He should not give way to useless regrets; he should +know that the future is within his control, that it will be what he +chooses to make it. + + + They do me wrong who say I come no more + When once I knock and fail to find you in; + For every day I stand outside your door, + And bid you wake, and rise to fight and win. + + Wail not for precious chances passed away, + Weep not for golden ages on the wane! + Each night I burn the records of the day,-- + At sunrise every soul is born again! + + Laugh like a boy at splendors that have sped, + To vanished joys be blind and deaf and dumb; + My judgments seal the dead past with its dead, + But never bind a moment yet to come. + + Though deep in mire, wring not your hands and weep; + I lend my arm to all who say "I can!" + No shame-faced outcast ever sank so deep, + But yet might rise and be again a man! + + Dost thou behold thy lost youth all aghast? + Dost reel from righteous Retribution's blow? + Then turn from blotted archives of the past, + And find the future's pages white as snow. + + Art thou a mourner? Rouse thee from thy spell; + Art thou a sinner? Sins may be forgiven; + Each morning gives thee wings to flee from hell, + Each night a star to guide thy feet to heaven. + + +_Walter Malone._ + + + + +OPPORTUNITY + + +In this poem yet another view of opportunity is presented. The recreant +or the dreamer complains that he has no real chance. He would succeed, +he says, if he had but the implements of success--money, influence, +social prestige, and the like. But success lies far less in implements +than in the use we make of them. What one man throws away as useless, +another man seizes as the best means of victory at hand. For every one +of us the materials for achievement are sufficient. The spirit that +prompts us is what ultimately counts. + + + This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream:-- + There spread a cloud of dust along a plain; + And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged + A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords + Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince's banner + Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes. + A craven hung along the battle's edge, + And thought, "Had I a sword of keener steel-- + That blue blade that the king's son bears,--but this + Blunt thing--!" he snapt and flung it from his hand, + And lowering crept away and left the field. + Then came the king's son, wounded, sore bestead, + And weaponless, and saw the broken sword, + Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand, + And ran and snatched it, and with battle-shout + Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down, + And saved a great cause that heroic day. + + +_Edward Rowland Sill._ + +From "Poems." + + + +[Illustration: JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY] + + + + +MY PHILOSOPHY + + +Though dogs persist in barking at the moon, the moon's business is not +to answer the dogs or to waste strength placating them, but simply to +shine. The man who strives or succeeds is sure to be criticized. Is he +therefore to abstain from all effort? We are responsible for our own +lives and cannot regulate them according to other people's ideas. "Whoso +would be a man," says Emerson, "must be a nonconformist." + + + I allus argy that a man + Who does about the best he can + Is plenty good enugh to suit + This lower mundane institute-- + No matter ef his daily walk + Is subject fer his neghbor's talk, + And critic-minds of ev'ry whim + Jest all git up and go fer him! + + * * * * * + + It's natchurl enugh, I guess, + When some gits more and some gits less, + Fer them-uns on the slimmest side + To claim it ain't a fare divide; + And I've knowed some to lay and wait, + And git up soon, and set up late, + To ketch some feller they could hate + For goin' at a faster gait. + + * * * * * + + My doctern is to lay aside + Contensions, and be satisfied: + Jest do your best, and praise er blame + That follers that, counts jest the same. + I've allus noticed grate success + Is mixed with troubles, more er less, + And it's the man who does the best + That gits more kicks than all the rest. + + +_James Whitcomb Riley._ + +From the Biographical Edition +Of the Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley. + + + + +ULYSSES + + +This volume consists chiefly of contemporary or very recent verse. But +it could not serve its full purpose without the presence, here and +there, of older poems--of "classics." These express a truth, a mood, or +a spirit that is universal, and they express it in words of noble +dignity and beauty. They are not always easy to understand; they are +crops we must patiently cultivate, not crops that volunteer. But they +wear well; they grow upon us; we come back to them again and again, and +still they are fresh, living, significant--not empty, meaningless, and +weather-worn, like a last year's crow's nest. + +Such a poem is _Ulysses_. It is shot through and through with the spirit +of strenuous and never-ceasing endeavor--a spirit manifest in a hero who +has every temptation to rest and enjoy. Ulysses is old. After ten long +years of warfare before Troy, after endless misfortunes on his homeward +voyage, after travels and experiences that have taken him everywhere and +shown him everything that men know and do, he has returned to his rude +native kingdom. He is reunited with his wife Penelope and his son +Telemachus. He is rich and famous. Yet he is unsatisfied. The task and +routine of governing a slow, materially minded people, though suited to +his son's temperament, are unsuited to his. He wants to wear out rather +than to rust out. He wants to discover what the world still holds. He +wants to drink life to the lees. The morning has passed, the long day +has waned, twilight and the darkness are at hand. But scant as are the +years left to him, he will use them in a last, incomparable quest. He +rallies his old comrades--tried men who always + + "With a frolic welcome took + The thunder and the sunshine"-- + +and asks them to brave with him once more the hazards and the hardships +of the life of vast; unsubdued enterprise. + + + It little profits that an idle king, + By this still hearth, among these barren crags, + Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole + Unequal laws unto a savage race, + That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me. + I cannot rest from travel; I will drink + Life to the lees. All times I have enjoy'd + Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those + That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when + Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades + Vext the dim sea. I am become a name; + For always roaming with a hungry heart + Much have I seen and known,--cities of men + And manners, climates, councils, governments, + Myself not least, but honor'd of them all,-- + And drunk delight of battle with my peers, + Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. + I am a part of all that I have met; + Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' + Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades + For ever and for ever when I move. + How dull it is to pause, to make an end, + To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use! + As tho' to breathe were life! Life piled on life + Were all too little, and of one to me + Little remains; but every hour is saved + From that eternal silence, something more, + A bringer of new things; and vile it were + For some three suns to store and hoard myself, + And this gray spirit yearning in desire + To follow knowledge like a sinking star, + Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. + This is my son, mine own Telemachus, + To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle,-- + Well-beloved of me, discerning to fulfil + This labor, by slow prudence to make mild + A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees + Subdue them to the useful and the good. + Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere + Of common duties, decent not to fail + In offices of tenderness, and pay + Meet adoration to my household gods, + When I am gone. He works his work, I mine. + There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail; + There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners, + Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me,-- + That ever with a frolic welcome took + The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed + Free hearts, free foreheads,--you and I are old; + Old age hath yet his honor and his toil. + Death closes all; but something ere the end, + Some work of noble note, may yet be done, + Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods. + The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks; + The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep + Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends. + 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. + Push off, and sitting well in order smite + The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds + To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths + Of all the western stars, until I die. + It may be that the gulfs will wash us down; + It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, + And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. + Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho' + We are not now that strength which in old days + Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,-- + One equal temper of heroic hearts, + Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will + To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. + + +_Alfred Tennyson._ + + + + +PREPAREDNESS + + + For all your days prepare, + And meet them ever alike: + When you are the anvil, bear-- + When you are the hammer, strike. + + +_Edwin Markham._ + +From "The Gates of Paradise, and Other Poems." + + + + +THE WISDOM OF FOLLY + + + "Jog on, jog on, the footpath way, + And merrily hent the stile-a: + A merry heart goes all the day, + Your sad tires in a mile-a." + +Shakespeare's lilting stanza conveys a great truth--the power of +cheerfulness to give impetus and endurance. The _a_ at the end of lines +is merely an addition in singing; the word _hent_ means take. + + + The cynics say that every rose + Is guarded by a thorn which grows + To spoil our posies; + But I no pleasure therefore lack; + I keep my hands behind my back + When smelling roses. + + Though outwardly a gloomy shroud + The inner half of every cloud + Is bright and shining: + I therefore turn my clouds about, + And always wear them inside out + To show the lining. + + My modus operandi this-- + To take no heed of what's amiss; + And not a bad one; + Because, as Shakespeare used to say, + A merry heart goes twice the way + That tires a sad one. + + +_Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler. +(The Honorable Mrs. Alfred Felkin.)_ + +From "Verses Wise and Otherwise." + + + + +SEE IT THROUGH + + +An American traveler in Italy stood watching a lumberman who, as the +logs floated down a swift mountain stream, jabbed his hook in an +occasional one and drew it carefully aside. "Why do you pick out those +few?" the traveler asked. "They all look alike." "But they are not +alike, seignior. The logs I let pass have grown on the side of a +mountain, where they have been protected all their lives. Their grain is +coarse; they are good only for lumber. But these logs, seignior, grew on +the top of the mountain. From the time they were sprouts and saplings +they were lashed and buffeted by the winds, and so they grew strong with +fine grain. We save them for choice work; they are not 'lumber,' +seignior." + + + When you're up against a trouble, + Meet it squarely, face to face; + Lift your chin and set your shoulders, + Plant your feet and take a brace. + When it's vain to try to dodge it, + Do the best that you can do; + You may fail, but you may conquer, + See it through! + + Black may be the clouds about you + And your future may seem grim, + But don't let your nerve desert you; + Keep yourself in fighting trim. + If the worse is bound to happen, + Spite of all that you can do, + Running from it will not save you, + See it through! + + Even hope may seem but futile, + When with troubles you're beset, + But remember you are facing + Just what other men have met. + You may fail, but fall still fighting; + Don't give up, whate'er you do; + Eyes front, head high to the finish. + See it through! + + +_Edgar A. Guest._ + +From "Just Folks." + + + + +DECEMBER 31 + + +If January 1 is an ideal time for renewed consecration, December 31 is +an ideal time for thankful reminiscence. The year has not brought us +everything we might have hoped, but neither has it involved us in +everything we might have feared. Many are the perils, the failures, the +miseries we have escaped, and life to us is still gracious and wholesome +and filled to the brim with satisfaction. + + + Best day of all the year, since I + May see thee pass and know + That if thou dost not leave me high + Thou hast not found me low, + And since, as I behold thee die, + Thou leavest me the right to say + That I to-morrow still may vie + With them that keep the upward way. + + Best day of all the year to me, + Since I may stand and gaze + Across the grayish past and see + So many crooked ways + That might have led to misery, + Or might have ended at Disgrace-- + Best day since thou dost leave me free + To look the future in the face. + + Best day of all days of the year, + That was so kind, so good, + Since thou dost leave me still the dear + Old faith in brotherhood-- + Best day since I, still striving here, + May view the past with small regret, + And, undisturbed by doubts or fear, + Seeks paths that are untrod as yet. + + +_S.E. Kiser._ + + + + +RING OUT, WILD BELLS + + +This great New Year's piece belongs almost as well to every day in the +year, since it expresses a social ideal of justice and happiness. + + + Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, + The flying cloud, the frosty light: + The year is dying in the night; + Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. + + Ring out the old, ring in the new, + Ring, happy bells, across the snow: + The year is going, let him go; + Ring out the false, ring in the true. + + Ring out the grief that saps the mind, + For those that here we see no more; + Ring out the feud of rich and poor, + Ring in redress to all mankind. + + Ring out a slowly dying cause, + And ancient forms of party strife; + Ring in the nobler modes of life, + With sweeter manners, purer laws. + + Ring out the want, the care, the sin, + The faithless coldness of the times; + Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, + But ring the fuller minstrel in. + + Ring out false pride in place and blood, + The civic slander and the spite; + Ring in the love of truth and right, + Ring in the common love of good. + + Ring out old shapes of foul disease; + Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; + Ring out the thousand wars of old, + Ring in the thousand years of peace. + + Ring in the valiant man and free, + The larger heart, the kindlier hand; + Ring out the darkness of the land, + Ring in the Christ that is to be. + + +_Alfred Tennyson._ + + + +[Illustration: HENRY VAN DYKE] + + + + +WORK + + +The dog that dropped his bone to snap at its reflection in the water +went dinnerless. So do we often lose the substance--the joy--of our work +by longing for tasks we think better fitted to our capabilities. + + + Let me but do my work from day to day, + In field or forest, at the desk or loom, + In roaring market-place or tranquil room; + Let me but find it in my heart to say, + When vagrant wishes beckon me astray, + "This is my work; my blessing, not my doom; + Of all who live, I am the one by whom + This work can best be done in the right way." + + Then shall I see it not too great, nor small + To suit my spirit and to prove my powers; + Then shall I cheerful greet the laboring hours, + And cheerful turn, when the long shadows fall + At eventide, to play and love and rest, + Because I know for me my work is best. + + +_Henry Van Dyke._ + +From "Collected Poems." + + + + +START WHERE YOU STAND + + +When a man who had been in the penitentiary applied to Henry Ford for +employment, he started to tell Mr. Ford his story. "Never mind," said +Mr. Ford, "I don't care about the past. Start where you stand!"--Author's +note. + + + Start where you stand and never mind the past, + The past won't help you in beginning new, + If you have left it all behind at last + Why, that's enough, you're done with it, you're through; + This is another chapter in the book, + This is another race that you have planned, + Don't give the vanished days a backward look, + Start where you stand. + + The world won't care about your old defeats + If you can start anew and win success, + The future is your time, and time is fleet + And there is much of work and strain and stress; + Forget the buried woes and dead despairs, + Here is a brand new trial right at hand, + The future is for him who does and dares, + Start where you stand. + + Old failures will not halt, old triumphs aid, + To-day's the thing, to-morrow soon will be; + Get in the fight and face it unafraid, + And leave the past to ancient history; + What has been, has been; yesterday is dead + And by it you are neither blessed nor banned, + Take courage, man, be brave and drive ahead, + Start where you stand. + + +_Berton Braley._ + +From "A Banjo at Armageddon." + + + + +A HOPEFUL BROTHER + + +A Cripple Creek miner remarked that he had hunted for gold for +twenty-five years. He was asked how much he had found. "None," he +replied, "but the prospects are good." + + + Ef you ask him, day or night, + When the worl' warn't runnin' right, + "Anything that's good in sight?" + This is allus what he'd say, + In his uncomplainin' way-- + "Well, I'm hopin'." + + When the winter days waz nigh, + An' the clouds froze in the sky, + Never sot him down to sigh, + But, still singin' on his way, + He'd stop long enough to say-- + "Well, I'm hopin'." + + Dyin', asked of him that night + (Sperrit waitin' fer its flight), + "Brother, air yer prospec's bright?" + An'--last words they heard him say, + In the ol', sweet, cheerful way-- + "Well, I'm hopin'." + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +"The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +A SONG OF THANKSGIVING + + +We should have grateful spirits, not merely for personal benefits, but +also for the right to sympathize, to understand, to help, to trust, to +struggle, to aspire. + + + Thank God I can rejoice + In human things--the multitude's glad voice, + The street's warm surge beneath the city light, + The rush of hurrying faces on my sight, + The million-celled emotion in the press + That would their human fellowship confess. + Thank Thee because I may my brother feed, + That Thou hast opened me unto his need, + Kept me from being callous, cold and blind, + Taught me the melody of being kind. + Thus, for my own and for my brother's sake-- + Thank Thee I am awake! + + Thank Thee that I can trust! + That though a thousand times I feel the thrust + Of faith betrayed, I still have faith in man, + Believe him pure and good since time began-- + Thy child forever, though he may forget + The perfect mould in which his soul was set. + Thank Thee that when love dies, fresh love springs up. + New wonders pour from Heaven's cup. + Young to my soul the ancient need returns, + Immortal in my heart the ardor burns; + My altar fires replenished from above-- + Thank Thee that I can love! + + Thank Thee that I can hear, + Finely and keenly with the inner ear, + Below the rush and clamor of a throng + The mighty music of the under-song. + And when the day has journeyed to its rest, + Lo, as I listen, from the amber west, + Where the great organ lifts its glowing spires, + There sounds the chanting of the unseen choirs. + Thank Thee for sight that shows the hidden flame + Beneath all breathing, throbbing things the same, + Thy Pulse the pattern of the thing to be.... + Thank Thee that I can see! + + Thank Thee that I can feel! + That though life's blade be terrible as steel, + My soul is stript and naked to the fang, + I crave the stab of beauty and the pang. + _To be alive, + To think, to yearn, to strive,_ + To suffer torture when the goal is wrong, + To be sent back and fashioned strong + Rejoicing in the lesson that was taught + By all the good the grim experience wrought; + At last, exulting, to _arrive_.... + Thank God I am alive! + + +_Angela Morgan._ + +From "The Hour Has Struck." + + + + +LOSE THE DAY LOITERING + + +Anything is hard to begin, whether it be taking a cold bath, writing a +letter, clearing up a misunderstanding, or falling to on the day's work. +Yet "a thing begun is half done." No matter how unpleasant a thing is to +do, begin it and immediately it becomes less unpleasant. Form the +excellent habit of making a start. + + + Lose the day loitering, 'twill be the same story + To-morrow, and the next more dilatory, + For indecision brings its own delays, + And days are lost lamenting o'er lost days. + Are you in earnest? Seize this very minute! + What you can do, or think you can, begin it! + Only engage, and then the mind grows heated; + Begin it, and the work will be completed. + + +_Johann Wolfgang von Goethe._ + + + + +PLAYING THE GAME + + +We don't like the man who whines that the cards were stacked against him +or that the umpire cheated. We admire the chap who, when he must take +his medicine, takes it cheerfully, bravely. To play the game steadily is +a merit, whether the game be a straight one or crooked. A thoroughbred, +even though bad, has more of our respect than the craven who cleaves to +the proprieties solely from fear to violate them. It has well been said: +"The mistakes which make us men are better than the accuracies that keep +us children." + + + Yes, he went an' stole our steers, + So, of course, he had to die; + I ain't sheddin' any tears, + But, when I cash in--say, I + Want to take it like that guy-- + Laughin', jokin', with the rest, + Not a whimper, not a cry, + Standin' up to meet the test + Till we swung him clear an' high, + With his face turned toward the west! + + Here's the way it looks to me; + Cattle thief's no thing to be, + But if you take up that trade, + Be the best one ever made; + If you've got a thing to do + Do it strong an' SEE IT THROUGH! + + That was him! He played the game, + Took his chances, bet his hand, + When at last the showdown came + An' he lost, he kept his sand; + Didn't weep an' didn't pray, + Didn't waver er repent, + Simply tossed his cards away, + Knowin' well just what it meant. + Never claimed the deck was stacked, + Never called the game a snide, + Acted like a man should act, + Took his medicine--an' died! + + So I say it here again, + What I think is true of men; + They should try to do what's right, + Fair an' square an' clean an' white, + But, whatever is their line, + Bad er good er foul er fine, + Let 'em go the Limit, play + Like a plunger, that's the way! + + +_Berton Braley._ + +From "Songs of the Workaday World." + + + +[Illustration: CHARLOTTE PERKINS GILMAN] + + + + +RESOLVE + + +There are some things we should all resolve to do. What are they? Any +one may make a list for himself. It would be interesting to compare it +with the one here given by the poet. + + + To keep my health! + To do my work! + To live! + To see to it I grow and gain and give! + Never to look behind me for an hour! + To wait in weakness, and to walk in power; + But always fronting onward to the light, + Always and always facing towards the right. + Robbed, starved, defeated, fallen, wide astray-- + On, with what strength I have! + Back to the way! + + +_Charlotte Perkins Gilman._ + +From "In This Our World." + + + + +WHEN NATURE WANTS A MAN + + +Only melting and hammering can shape and temper steel for fine use. Only +struggle and suffering can give a man the qualities that enable him to +render large service to humanity. Lincoln was born in a log cabin. He +split rails, and conned a few books by the firelight in the evening. He +became a backwoods lawyer with apparently no advantages or encouraging +prospects. But all the while he had his visions, which ever became +nobler; and the adversities he knew but gave him the deeper sympathy for +others and the wider and steadier outlook on human problems. Thus when +the supreme need arose, Lincoln was ready--harsh-visaged nature had done +its work of moulding and preparing a man. + + + When Nature wants to drill a man + And thrill a man, + And skill a man, + When Nature wants to mould a man + To play the noblest part; + When she yearns with all her heart + To create so great and bold a man + That all the world shall praise-- + Watch her method, watch her ways! + How she ruthlessly perfects + Whom she royally elects; + How she hammers him and hurts him + And with mighty blows converts him + Into trial shapes of clay which only Nature understands-- + While his tortured heart is crying and he lifts beseeching hands!-- + How she bends, but never breaks, + When his good she undertakes.... + How she uses whom she chooses + And with every purpose fuses him, + By every art induces him + To try his splendor out-- + Nature knows what she's about. + + When Nature wants to take a man + And shake a man + And wake a man; + When Nature wants to make a man + To do the Future's will; + When she tries with all her skill + And she yearns with all her soul + To create him large and whole.... + With what cunning she prepares him! + How she goads and never spares him, + How she whets him and she frets him + And in poverty begets him.... + How she often disappoints + Whom she sacredly anoints, + With what wisdom she will hide him, + Never minding what betide him + Though his genius sob with slighting and his pride may not forget! + Bids him struggle harder yet. + Makes him lonely + So that only + God's high messages shall reach him + So that she may surely teach him + What the Hierarchy planned. + Though he may not understand + Gives him passions to command-- + How remorselessly she spurs him, + With terrific ardor stirs him + When she poignantly prefers him! + + When Nature wants to name a man + And fame a man + And tame a man; + When Nature wants to shame a man + To do his heavenly best.... + When she tries the highest test + That her reckoning may bring-- + When she wants a god or king!-- + How she reins him and restrains him + So his body scarce contains him + While she fires him + And inspires him! + Keeps him yearning, ever burning for a tantalising goal-- + Lures and lacerates his soul. + Sets a challenge for his spirit, + Draws it higher when he's near it-- + Makes a jungle, that he clear it; + Makes a desert, that he fear it + And subdue it if he can-- + So doth Nature make a man. + Then, to test his spirit's wrath + Hurls a mountain in his path-- + Puts a bitter choice before him + And relentless stands o'er him. + "Climb, or perish!" so she says.... + Watch her purpose, watch her ways! + + Nature's plan is wondrous kind + Could we understand her mind ... + Fools are they who call her blind. + When his feet are torn and bleeding + Yet his spirit mounts unheeding, + All his higher powers speeding + Blazing newer paths and fine; + When the force that is divine + Leaps to challenge every failure and his ardor still is sweet + And love and hope are burning in the presence of defeat.... + Lo, the crisis! Lo, the shout + That must call the leader out. + When the people need salvation + Doth he come to lead the nation.... + Then doth Nature show her plan + When the world has found--a man! + + +_Angela Morgan._ + +From "Forward, March!" + + + + +ORDER AND THE BEES + +(FROM "HENRY V.") + + +We often wish that we might do some other man's work, occupy his social +or political station. But such an interchange is not easy. The world is +complex, and its adjustments have come from long years of experience. +Each man does well to perform the tasks for which nature and training +have fitted him. And instead of feeling envy toward other people, we +should rejoice that all labor, however diverse, is to one great end--it +makes life richer and fuller. + + + Therefore doth heaven divide + The state of man in divers functions, + Setting endeavor in continual motion; + To which is fixed, as an aim or butt, + Obedience: for so work the honey-bees, + Creatures that by a rule in nature teach + The act of order to a peopled kingdom. + They have a king and officers of sorts; + Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, + Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, + Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, + Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds; + Which pillage they with merry march bring home + To the tent-royal of their emperor: + Who, busied in his majesty, surveys + The singing masons building roofs of gold, + The civil citizens kneading up the honey, + The poor mechanic porters crowding in + Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate, + The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum, + Delivering o'er to executors pale + The lazy yawning drone. I this infer, + That many things, having full reference + To one consent, may work contrariously. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +SELF-DEPENDENCE + + +One star does not ask another to adore it or amuse it; Mt. Shasta, +though it towers for thousands of feet above its neighbors, does not +repine that it is alone or that the adjacent peaks see much that it +misses under the clouds. Nature does not trouble itself about what the +rest of nature is doing. But man constantly worries about other +men--what they think of him, do to him, fail to emulate in him, have or +secure in comparison with him. He lacks nature's inward quietude. +Calmness and peace come by being self-contained. + + + Weary of myself, and sick of asking + What I am, and what I ought to be, + At this vessel's prow I stand, which bears me + Forwards, forwards, o'er the starlit sea. + + And a look of passionate desire + O'er the sea and to the stars I send: + "Ye who from my childhood up have calmed me, + Calm me, ah, compose me to the end! + + "Ah, once more," I cried, "ye stars, ye waters, + On my heart your mighty charm renew; + Still, still let me, as I gaze upon you, + Feel my soul becoming vast like you!" + + From the intense, clear, star-sown vault of heaven, + Over the lit sea's unquiet way, + In the rustling night-air came the answer: + "Wouldst thou BE as these are? LIVE as they. + + "Unaffrighted by the silence round them, + Undistracted by the sights they see, + These demand not that the things without them + Yield them love, amusement, sympathy. + + "And with joy the stars perform their shining, + And the sea its long, moon-silver'd roll; + For self-poised they live, nor pine with noting + All the fever of some differing soul. + + "Bounded by themselves, and unregardful + In what state God's other works may be, + In their own tasks all their powers pouring, + These attain the mighty life you see." + + O air-born voice! long since, severely clear, + A cry like thine in mine own heart I hear: + "Resolve to be thyself; and know that he + Who finds himself, loses his misery!" + + +_Matthew Arnold._ + + + + +A LITTLE PRAYER + + +We should strive to bring what happiness we can to others. More still, +we should strive to bring them no unhappiness. When we come to die, it +is, as George Eliot once said, not our kindness or our patience or our +generosity that we shall regret, but our intolerance and our harshness. + + + That I may not in blindness grope, + But that I may with vision clear + Know when to speak a word of hope + Or add a little wholesome cheer. + + That tempered winds may softly blow + Where little children, thinly clad, + Sit dreaming, when the flame is low, + Of comforts they have never had. + + That through the year which lies ahead + No heart shall ache, no cheek be wet, + For any word that I have said + Or profit I have tried to get. + + +_S.E. Kiser._ + + + + +A MAN'S A MAN FOR A' THAT + + +It is said that once at a laird's house Burns was placed at a second +table, and that this rankled in his breast and caused him to write his +poem on equality. He insists that rank, wealth, and external +distinctions are merely the stamp on the guinea; the man is the gold +itself. Snobbishness he abhors; poverty he confesses to without hanging +his head in the least; the pith of sense and the pride of worth he +declares superior to any dignity thrust upon a person from the outside. +In a final, prophetic mood he looks forward to the time when a democracy +of square dealing shall prevail, praise shall be reserved for merit, and +men the world over shall be to each other as brothers. In line 8 +gowd=gold; 9, hamely=homely, commonplace; 11, gie=give; 15, sae=so; 17, +birkie=fellow; 20, cuif=simpleton; 25, mak=make; 27, aboon=above; 28, +mauna=must not; fa'=acclaim; 36, gree=prize. + + + Is there, for honest poverty, + That hangs his head, and a' that? + The coward-slave, we pass him by, + We dare be poor for a' that! + For a' that, and a' that, + Our toils obscure, and a' that; + The rank is but the guinea stamp; + The man's the gowd for a' that. + + What tho' on hamely fare we dine, + Wear hodden-gray, and a' that; + Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, + A man's a man for a' that. + For a' that, and a' that, + Their tinsel show, and a' that; + The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor, + Is King o' men for a' that. + + Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord, + Wha struts, and stares, and a' that; + Tho' hundreds worship at his word, + He's but a cuif for a' that: + For a' that, and a' that. + His riband, star, and a' that, + The man of independent mind, + He looks and laughs at a' that. + + A prince can mak a belted knight, + A marquis, duke, and a' that; + But an honest man's aboon his might, + Guid faith he mauna fa' that! + For a' that, and a' that, + Their dignities, and a' that, + The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, + Are higher rank than a' that. + + Then let us pray that come it may, + As come it will for a' that; + That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, + May bear the gree, and a' that. + For a' that and a' that, + It's coming yet, for a' that, + That man to man the warld o'er + Shall brothers be for a' that. + + +_Robert Burns._ + + + + +LIFE AND DEATH + + + Life! I know not what thou art, + But know that thou and I must part; + And when, or how, or where we met + I own to me a secret yet. + + Life! We've been long together, + Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; + 'Tis hard to part when friends are dear; + Perhaps will cost a sigh, a tear; + Then steal away, give little warning, + Choose thine own time; + Say not "Good Night"--but in some brighter clime, + Bid me "Good Morning!" + + +_Anna Barbauld._ + + + + +LIFE AND DEATH + + +Many a man would die for wife and children, for faith, for country. But +would he live for them? That, often, is the more heroic course--and the +more sensible. A rich man was hiring a driver for his carriage. He asked +each applicant how close he could drive to a precipice without toppling +over. "One foot," "Six inches," "Three inches," ran the replies. But an +Irishman declared, "Faith, and I'd keep as far away from the place as I +could." "Consider yourself employed," was the rich man's comment. + + + So he died for his faith. That is fine-- + More than most of us do. + But stay, can you add to that line + That he lived for it, too? + + In death he bore witness at last + As a martyr to truth. + Did his life do the same in the past + From the days of his youth? + + It is easy to die. Men have died + For a wish or a whim-- + From bravado or passion or pride. + Was it harder for him? + + But to live: every day to live out + All the truth that he dreamt, + While his friends met his conduct with doubt, + And the world with contempt-- + + Was it thus that he plodded ahead, + Never turning aside? + Then we'll talk of the life that he led-- + Never mind how he died. + + +_Ernest H. Crosby_ + +From "Swords and Ploughshares." + + + + +ON BEING READY + + +At nightfall after bloody Antietam Lee's army, outnumbered and exhausted, +lay with the Potomac at its back. So serious was the situation that all +the subordinate officers advised retreat. But Lee, though too maimed to +attack, would not leave the field save of his own volition. "If +McClellan wants a battle," he declared, "he can have it." McClellan +hesitated, and through the whole of the next day kept his great army +idle. The effect upon the morale of the two forces, and the two +governments, can be imagined. + + + The man who is there with the wallop and punch + The one who is trained to the minute, + May well be around when the trouble begins, + But you seldom will find he is in it; + For they let him alone when they know he is there + For any set part in the ramble, + To pick out the one who is shrinking and soft + And not quite attuned to the scramble. + + The one who is fixed for whatever they start + Is rarely expected to prove it; + They pass him along for the next shot in sight + Where they take a full wind-up and groove it; + For who wants to pick on a bulldog or such + Where a quivering poodle is handy, + When he knows he can win with a kick or a brick + With no further trouble to bandy? + + +_Grantland Rice._ + +From "The Sportlight." + + + + +TWO AT A FIRESIDE + + + I built a chimney for a comrade old, + I did the service not for hope or hire-- + And then I traveled on in winter's cold, + Yet all the day I glowed before the fire. + + +_Edwin Markham._ + +From "The Man with the Hoe, and Other Poems." + + + + +TO-DAY + + +We often lose the happiness of to-day by brooding over the sorrows of +yesterday or fearing the troubles of to-morrow. This is exceedingly +foolish. There is always _some_ pleasure at hand; seize it, and at no +time will you be without pleasure. You cannot change the past, but your +spirit at this moment will in some measure shape your future. Live life, +therefore, in the present tense; do not miss the joys of to-day. + + + Sure, this world is full of trouble-- + I ain't said it ain't. + Lord! I've had enough, an' double, + Reason for complaint. + Rain an' storm have come to fret me, + Skies were often gray; + Thorns an' brambles have beset me + On the road--but, say, + Ain't it fine to-day? + + What's the use of always weepin', + Makin' trouble last? + What's the use of always keepin' + Thinkin' of the past? + Each must have his tribulation, + Water with his wine. + Life it ain't no celebration. + Trouble? I've had mine-- + But to-day is fine. + + It's to-day that I am livin', + Not a month ago, + Havin', losin', takin', givin', + As time wills it so. + Yesterday a cloud of sorrow + Fell across the way; + It may rain again to-morrow, + It may rain--but, say, + Ain't it fine to-day! + + +_Douglas Malloch._ + + + + +THE ARROW AND THE SONG + + +We can calculate with fair accuracy the number of miles an automobile +will go in an hour. We can gauge pretty closely the amount of +merchandise a given sum of money will buy. But a good deed or a kind +impulse is not measurable. Their influence works in devious ways and +lives on when perhaps we can see them no more. + + + I shout an arrow into the air, + It fell to earth, I knew not where; + For, so swiftly it flew, the sight + Could not follow it in its flight. + + I breathed a song into the air, + It fell to earth, I knew not where; + For who has sight so keen and strong, + That it can follow the flight of song? + + Long, long afterward, in an oak + I found the arrow, still unbroke; + And the song, from beginning to end, + I found again in the heart of a friend. + + +_Henry Wadsworth Longfellow._ + + + + +THE INNER LIGHT + + + "Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just, + And he but naked, though locked up in steel, + Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted," + +says Shakespeare. But not only does a clear conscience give power; it +also gives light. With it we could sit at the center of the earth and +yet enjoy the sunshine. Without it we live in a rayless prison. + + + He that has light within his own clear breast + May sit i' the center, and enjoy bright day: + But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts + Benighted walks under the midday sun; + Himself is his own dungeon. + + +_John Milton._ + + + + +THE THINGS THAT HAVEN'T BEEN DONE BEFORE + + +It is said that if you hold a stick in front of the foremost sheep in a +flock that files down a trail in the mountains, he will jump it--and +that every sheep thereafter will jump when he reaches the spot, even if +the stick be removed. So are many people mere unthinking imitators, +blind to facts and opportunities about them. Kentucky could not be lived +in by the white race till Daniel Boone built his cabin there. The air +was not part of the domain of humanity till the Wright brothers made +themselves birdmen. + + + The things that haven't been done before, + Those are the things to try; + Columbus dreamed of an unknown shore + At the rim of the far-flung sky, + And his heart was bold and his faith was strong + As he ventured in dangers new, + And he paid no heed to the jeering throng + Or the fears of the doubting crew. + + The many will follow the beaten track + With guideposts on the way, + They live and have lived for ages back + With a chart for every day. + Someone has told them it's safe to go + On the road he has traveled o'er, + And all that they ever strive to know + Are the things that were known before. + + A few strike out, without map or chart, + Where never a man has been, + From the beaten paths they draw apart + To see what no man has seen. + There are deeds they hunger alone to do; + Though battered and bruised and sore, + They blaze the path for the many, who + Do nothing not done before. + + The things that haven't been done before + Are the tasks worth while to-day; + Are you one of the flock that follows, or + Are you one that shall lead the way? + Are you one of the timid souls that quail + At the jeers of a doubting crew, + Or dare you, whether you win or fail, + Strike out for a goal that's new? + + +_Edgar A. Guest._ + +From "A Heap o' Livin'." + + + + +THE HAS-BEENS + + + I read the papers every day, and oft encounter tales which show + there's hope for every jay who in life's battle fails. I've + just been reading of a gent who joined the has-been ranks, at + fifty years without a cent, or credit at the banks. But + undismayed he buckled down, refusing to be beat, and captured + fortune and renown; he's now on Easy Street. Men say that + fellows down and out ne'er leave the rocky track, but facts + will show, beyond a doubt, that has-beens do come back. I know, + for I who write this rhyme, when forty-odd years old, was down + and out, without a dime, my whiskers full of mold. By black + disaster I was trounced until it jarred my spine; I was a + failure so pronounced I didn't need a sign. And after I had + soaked my coat, I said (at forty-three), "I'll see if I can + catch the goat that has escaped from me." I labored hard; I + strained my dome, to do my daily grind, until in triumph I came + home, my billy-goat behind. And any man who still has health + may with the winners stack, and have a chance at fame and + wealth--for has-beens do come back. + + +_Walt Mason._ + +From "Walt Mason, His Book." + + + + +WISHING + + +Horace Greeley said that no one need fear the editor who indulged in +diatribes against the prevalence of polygamy in Utah, but that +malefactors had better look out when an editor took up his pen against +abuses in his own city. We all tend to begin our reforms too far away +from home. The man who wishes improvement strongly enough to set to work +on himself is the man who will obtain results. + + + Do you wish the world were better? + Let me tell you what to do. + Set a watch upon your actions, + Keep them always straight and true. + Rid your mind of selfish motives, + Let your thoughts be clean and high. + You can make a little Eden + Of the sphere you occupy. + + Do you wish the world were wiser? + Well, suppose you make a start, + By accumulating wisdom + In the scrapbook of your heart; + Do not waste one page on folly; + Live to learn, and learn to live. + If you want to give men knowledge + You must get it, ere you give. + + Do you wish the world were happy? + Then remember day by day + Just to scatter seeds of kindness + As you pass along the way, + For the pleasures of the many + May be ofttimes traced to one. + As the hand that plants an acorn + Shelters armies from the sun. + + +_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._ + +From "Poems of Power." + + + + +AWARENESS + + +A man must keep a keen sense of the drift and significance of what he is +engaged in if he is to make much headway. Yet many human beings are so +sunk in the routine of their work that they fail to realize what it is +all for. A man who was tapping with a hammer the wheels of a railroad +train remarked that he had been at the job for twenty-seven years. "What +do you do when a wheel doesn't sound right?" a passenger inquired. The +man was taken aback. "I never found one that sounded that way," said he. + + + God--let me be aware. + Let me not stumble blindly down the ways, + Just getting somehow safely through the days, + Not even groping for another hand, + Not even wondering why it all was planned, + Eyes to the ground unseeking for the light, + Soul never aching for a wild-winged flight, + Please, keep me eager just to do my share. + God--let me be aware. + + God--let me be aware. + Stab my soul fiercely with others' pain, + Let me walk seeing horror and stain. + Let my hands, groping, find other hands. + Give me the heart that divines, understands. + Give me the courage, wounded, to fight. + Flood me with knowledge, drench me in light. + Please--keep me eager just to do my share. + God--let me be aware. + + +_Miriam Teichner._ + + + + +ONE OF THESE DAYS + + +The worst fault in a hound is to run counter--to follow the trail +backward, not forward. Is the fault less when men are guilty of it? +Behind us is much that we have found to be faithless, cruel, or +unpleasant. Why go back to that? Why not go forward to the things we +really desire? + + + Say! Let's forget it! Let's put it aside! + Life is so large and the world is so wide. + Days are so short and there's so much to do, + What if it was false--there's plenty that's true. + Say! Let's forget it! Let's brush it away + Now and forever, so what do you say? + All of the bitter words said may be praise + One of these days. + + Say! Let's forget it! Let's wipe off the slate, + Find something better to cherish than hate. + There's so much good in the world that we've had, + Let's strike a balance and cross off the bad. + Say! Let's forgive it, whatever it be, + Let's not be slaves when we ought to be free. + We shall be walking in sunshiny ways + One of these days. + + Say! Let's not mind it! Let's smile it away, + Bring not a withered rose from yesterday; + Flowers are so fresh from the wayside and wood, + Sorrows are blessings but half understood. + Say! Let's not mind it, however it seems, + Hope is so sweet and holds so many dreams; + All of the sere fields with blossoms shall blaze + One of these days. + + Say! Let's not take it so sorely to heart! + Hates may be friendships just drifted apart, + Failure be genius not quite understood, + Say! Let's get closer to somebody's side, + See what his dreams are and learn how he tried, + See if our scoldings won't give way to praise + One of these days. + + Say! Let's not wither! Let's branch out and rise + Out of the byways and nearer the skies. + Let's spread some shade that's refreshing and deep + Where some tired traveler may lie down and sleep. + Say! Let's not tarry! Let's do it right now; + So much to do if we just find out how! + We may not be here to help folks or praise + One of these days. + + +_James W. Foley._ + +From "The Voices of Song." + + + +[Illustration: JAMES WILLIAM FOLEY] + + + + +GOD + + +We often think people shallow, think them incapable of anything serious +or profound, because their work is humdrum and their speech trivial. +Such a judgment is unfair, since that part of our own life which shows +itself to others is superficial likewise, though we are conscious that +within us is much that it does not reveal. + + + I think about God. + Yet I talk of small matters. + Now isn't it odd + How my idle tongue chatters! + Of quarrelsome neighbors, + Fine weather and rain, + Indifferent labors, + Indifferent pain, + Some trivial style + Fashion shifts with a nod. + And yet all the while + I am thinking of God. + + +_Gamaliel Bradford._ + +From "Shadow Verses." + + + + +MY TRIUMPH + + +The poet, looking back upon the hopes he has cherished, perceives that +he has fallen far short of achieving them. The songs he has sung are +less sweet than those he has dreamed of singing; the wishes he has +wrought into facts are less noble than those that are yet unfulfilled. +But he looks forward to the time when all that he desires for humankind +shall yet come to pass. The praise will not be his; it will belong to +others. Still, he does not envy those who are destined to succeed where +he failed. Rather does he rejoice that through them his hopes for the +race will be realized. And he is happy that by longing for just such a +triumph he shares in it--he makes it _his_ triumph. + + + Let the thick curtain fall; + I better know than all + How little I have gained, + How vast the unattained. + + Not by the page word-painted + Let life be banned or sainted: + Deeper than written scroll + The colors of the soul. + + Sweeter than any sung + My songs that found no tongue + Nobler than any fact + My wish that failed to act. + + Others shall sing the song, + Others shall right the wrong,-- + Finish what I begin, + And all I fail of win. + + What matter, I or they? + Mine or another's day, + So the right word be said + And life the sweeter made? + + Hail to the coming singers! + Hail to the brave light-bringers! + Forward I reach and share + All that they sing and dare. + + The airs of heaven blow o'er me; + A glory shines before me + Of what mankind shall be,-- + Pure, generous, brave, and free. + + A dream of man and woman + Diviner but still human, + Solving the riddle old, + Shaping the Age of Gold! + + The love of God and neighbor; + An equal-handed labor; + The richer life, where beauty + Walks hand in hand with duty. + + Ring, bells in unreared steeples, + The joy of unborn peoples! + Sound, trumpets far off blown, + Your triumph is my own. + + Parcel and part of all, + I keep the festival, + Fore-reach the good to be, + And share the victory. + + I feel the earth move sunward, + I join the great march onward, + And take, by faith, while living, + My freehold of thanksgiving. + + +_John Green leaf Whittier._ + + + + +TO ALTHEA FROM PRISON + + +In the great Civil War in England between the Puritans and Charles the +First the author of this poem sacrificed everything in the royal cause. +That cause was defeated and Lovelace was imprisoned. In these stanzas he +makes the most of his gloomy situation and sings the joys of various +kinds of freedom. First is the freedom brought by love, when his +sweetheart speaks to him through the grate of the dungeon. Second is the +freedom brought by the recollection of good fellowship, when tried and +true comrades took their wine straight--"with no allaying Thames." Third +is the freedom brought by remembrance of the king for whom he was +suffering. Finally comes the passionate and heroic assertion that though +the body of a man may be confined, nevertheless his spirit can remain +free and chainless. + + + When Love with unconfined wings + Hovers within my gates, + And my divine Althea brings + To whisper at the grates; + When I lie tangled in her hair + And fetter'd to her eye, + The Gods that wanton in the air + Know no such liberty. + + When flowing cups run swiftly round + With no allaying Thames, + Our careless heads with roses bound, + Our hearts with loyal flames; + When thirsty grief in wine we steep, + When healths and draughts go free-- + Fishes that tipple in the deep + Know no such liberty. + + When (like committed linnets) I + With shriller throat shall sing + The sweetness, mercy, majesty + And glories of my King; + When I shall voice aloud how good + He is, how great should be, + Enlarged winds, that curl the flood, + Know no such liberty. + + Stone walls do not a prison make, + Nor iron bars a cage; + Minds innocent and quiet take + That for an hermitage; + If I have freedom in my love + And in my soul am free, + Angels alone, that soar above, + Enjoy such liberty. + + +_Richard Lovelace._ + + + + +GRIEF + + +Shakespeare says: "I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, +than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching." This is +especially true regarding grief or affliction. "Man was born unto +trouble, as the sparks fly upward," but we bid other people bear their +sorrows manfully; we should therefore bear ours with equal courage. + + + Upon this trouble shall I whet my life + As 'twere a dulling knife; + Bade I my friend be brave? + I shall still braver be. + No man shall say of me, + "Others he saved, himself he cannot save." + But swift and fair + As the Primeval word that smote the night-- + "Let there be light!" + Courage shall leap from me, a gallant sword + To rout the enemy and all his horde, + Cleaving a kingly pathway through despair. + + +_Angela Morgan._ + +From "Forward, March!" + + + + +THE RECTIFYING YEARS + + +Time brings the deeper understanding that clears up our misconceptions; +it shows us the error of our hates; it dispels our worries and our +fears; it allays the grief that seemed too poignant to be borne. + + + Yes, things are more or less amiss; + To-day it's that, to-morrow this; + Yet with so much that's out of whack, + Life does not wholly jump the track + Because, since matters move along, + No _one_ thing's always _staying_ wrong. + So heed not failures, losses, fears, + But trust the rectifying years. + + What we shall have's not what we've got; + Our pains don't linger in one spot-- + They skip about; the seesaw's end + That's up will mighty soon descend; + You've looked at bacon? Life's like that-- + A streak of lean, a streak of fat. + Change, like a sky that clouds, that clears, + Hangs o'er the rectifying years. + + Uneven things not leveled down + Are somehow simply got aroun'; + The sting is taken from offence; + The evil has its recompense; + The broken heart is knit again; + The baffled longing knows not pain; + Wrong fades and trouble disappears + Before the rectifying years. + + Then envy, hate towards man or class + Should from your sinful nature pass. + Though others hold a higher place + Or have more power or wealth or grace, + The best of them, be sure, cannot + Escape the common human lot; + So many smiles, so many tears + Come with the rectifying years. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +TO THOSE WHO FAIL + + +We too often praise the man who wins just because he wins; the plaudits +and laurels of victory are the unthinking crowd's means of estimating +success. But the vanquished may have fought more nobly than the victor; +he may have done his best against hopeless odds. As Addison makes Cato +say, + + "'Tis not in mortals to command success, + But we'll do more, Sempronius,--we'll deserve it." + + + "All honor to him who shall win the prize," + The world has cried for a thousand years; + But to him who tries, and who fails and dies, + I give great honor and glory and tears; + + Give glory and honor and pitiful tears + To all who fail in their deeds sublime; + Their ghosts are many in the van of years, + They were born with Time, in advance of Time. + + Oh, great is the hero who wins a name, + But greater many and many a time + Some pale-faced fellow who dies in shame, + And lets God finish the thoughts sublime. + + And great is the man with a sword undrawn, + And good is the man who refrains from wine; + But the man who fails and yet still fights on, + Lo, he is the twin-born brother of mine. + + +_Joaquin Miller._ + +From "Joaquin Miller's Complete Poems." + + + + +HELPING' OUT + + +"I always look out for Number One," was the favorite remark of a man who +thought he had found the great rule to success, but he had only stated +his own doctrine of selfishness, and his life was never very successful. +A man must be big to succeed, and selfishness is always cramping and +narrow. + + + Da's a lot of folks what preach all day + An' always pointing' out de way, + Dey say dat prayin' all de time + An' keepin' yo' heart all full of rhyme + Will lead yo' soul to heights above + Whah angels coo like a turtledove. + But I's des lookin' round, dat's me-- + I's trustin' lots in what I see; + It 'pears to me da's lots to do + Befo' we pass dat heavenly blue. + I believes in prayin', preachin' about, + But believe a lot mo' in helpin' out. + + I believes in 'ligin, it's mighty sweet, + But de kind dat gits in yo' hands and feet + An' makes you work when dey ain't no praise, + Nuthin' but a heart dat's all a-blaze. + If it rains or shines, dey's des de same-- + Say, bless you, honey, Sunshine's dey name; + Dey don't fuss round 'bout how much pay + But climbs up de trail, helpin' all de way. + De load is often twice der size, + And smilin' is der biggest prize. + Dey never gits dis awful gout + 'Cause dey's busy all de time in helpin' out. + + We had an old mule on Massa's place, + As fo' looks he'd certainly lose de race; + But der wa'n't a horse fo' miles around + Could pull mo' load or plow mo' ground. + An' when dat donkey brayed his best, + He seemed to know he'd licked de rest. + Dat bray of his was strong as wool-- + It always come at de hardest pull. + We need mo' mules with brains on guard + Dat knos de game of pullin' hard, + An' a heart dat's tender, true and stout, + Dat believes all day in helpin' out. + + We's all des human, des common clay, + Des needs a little help to make work play. + I'se read a lot of philosophy day an' night, + An' worked around a heap wid de law of right. + I'se seen de high an' mighty come an' go, + I'se seen de simple spirit come from below; + An' I'se seen a lot of principle most folks miss-- + I'se not a-stretchin' truth when I say dis: + "Keep a-smilin' an' a-lovin' an a-doin' all yo' can, + Fo' yo' loses all yo' trouble when yo' help yo' fellow man; + An' you gits on best yo'self, an' of this dey ain't no doubt, + When yo' practise de art of always helpin' out." + + +_William Judson Kibby._ + + + + +OPENING PARADISE + + +We appreciate even the common things of life if we are denied them. + + + See the wretch, that long has tost + On the thorny bed of Pain, + At length repair his vigor lost, + And breathe and walk again: + The meanest flow'r'et of the vale, + The simplest note that swells the gale, + The common Sun, the air, and skies, + To him are opening Paradise. + + +_Thomas Gray._ + + + + +TO THE MEN WHO LOSE + + +When Captain Scott's ill-fated band, after reaching the South Pole, was +struggling through the cold and storms back towards safety, the strength +of Evans, one of the men, became exhausted. He had done his best--vainly. +Now he did not wish to imperil his companions, already sorely tried. At +a halting-place, therefore, he left them and, staggering out into a +blizzard, perished alone. It was a failure, yes; but was it not also +magnificent success? + + + Here's to the men who lose! + What though their work be e'er so nobly planned, + And watched with zealous care, + No glorious halo crowns their efforts grand, + Contempt is failure's share. + + Here's to the men who lose! + If triumph's easy smile our struggles greet, + Courage is easy then; + The king is he who, after fierce defeat, + Can up and fight again. + + Here's to the men who lose! + The ready plaudits of a fawning world + Ring sweet in victor's ears; + The vanquished's banners never are unfurled-- + For them there sound no cheers. + + Here's to the men who lose! + The touchstone of true worth is not success; + There is a higher test-- + Though fate may darkly frown, onward to press, + And bravely do one's best. + + Here's to the men who lose! + It is the vanquished's praises that I sing, + And this is the toast I choose: + "A hard-fought failure is a noble thing; + Here's to the men who lose!" + + +_Anonymous._ + + + + +IT MAY BE + + +Many, many are the human struggles in which we can lend no aid. But if +we cannot help, at least we need not hinder. + + + It may be that you cannot stay + To lend a friendly hand to him + Who stumbles on the slippery way, + Pressed by conditions hard and grim; + It may be that you dare not heed + His call for help, because you lack + The strength to lift him, but you need + Not push him back. + + It may be that he has not won + The right to hope for your regard; + He may in folly have begun + The course that he has found so hard; + It may be that your fingers bleed, + That Fortune turns a bitter frown + Upon your efforts, but you need + Not kick him down. + + +_S.E. Kiser._ + + + + +LIFE + + +In life is necessarily much monotony, sameness. But our triumph may lie +in putting richness and meaning into routine that apparently lacks them. + + + Forenoon and afternoon and night,--Forenoon, + And afternoon, and night,--Forenoon, and--what! + The empty song repeats itself. No more? + Yea, that is Life: make this forenoon sublime, + This afternoon a psalm, this night a prayer, + And Time is conquered, and thy crown is won. + + +_Edward Rowland Sill._ + +From "Poems." + + + + +THE GRUMPY GUY + + +When students came, full of ambition, to the great scientist Agassiz, he +gave each a fish and told him to find out what he could about it. They +went to work and in a day or two were ready for their report. But +Agassiz didn't come round. To kill time they went to work again, +observed, dissected, conjectured, and when at the end of a fortnight +Agassiz finally appeared, they felt that their knowledge was really +exhaustive. The master's brief comment was that they had made a fair +beginning, and again he left. They then fell to in earnest and after +weeks and months of investigation declared that a fish was the most +fascinating of studies. If our interest in life fails, it is not from +material to work on. No two leaves are alike, not two human beings are +alike, and if we are discerning, the attraction of any one of them is +infinite. + + + The Grumpy Guy was feeling blue; the Grumpy Guy was glum; + The Grumpy Guy with baleful eye took Misery for a chum. + He hailed misfortunes as his pals, and murmured, "Let 'em come!" + + "Oh, what's the blooming use?" he yelped, his face an angry red, + "When everything's been thought before and everything's been said? + And what's a Grumpy Guy to do except to go to bed? + + "And where's the joy the poets sing, the merriment and fun? + How can one start a thing that's new when everything's begun?-- + When everything's been planned before and everything's been done?-- + + "When everything's been dreamed before and everything's been sought? + When everything that ever ran has, so to speak, been caught?-- + When every game's been played before and every battle fought?" + + I started him at solitaire, a fooling, piffling game. + He played it ninety-seven hours and failed to find it tame. + In all the times he dealt the cards no two games were the same. + + He never tumbled to its tricks nor mastered all its curves. + He grunted, "Well, this takes the cake, the pickles and preserves! + Its infinite variety is getting on my nerves." + + "Its infinite variety!" I scoffed. "Just fifty-two + Poor trifling bits of pasteboard!--their combinations few + Compared to what there is in man!--the poorest!--even you! + + "Variety! You'll never find in forty-seven decks + One tenth of the variety found in the gentler sex. + Card combinations are but frills to hang around their necks. + + "The sun won't rise to-morrow as it came to us to-day, + 'Twill be older, we'll be older, and to Time this debt we pay. + For nothing can repeat itself, for nothing knows the way." + + Then the Grumpy Guy was silent as a miser hoarding pelf. + He knew 'twas time to put his grouch away upon the shelf. + And so he did.--You see, I was just talking to myself! + + +_Griffith Alexander._ + +From "The Pittsburg Dispatch." + + + + +THE FIGHTER + + +If life were all easy, we should degenerate into weaklings--into human +mush. It is the fighting spirit that makes us strong. Nor do any of us +lack for a chance to exercise this spirit. Struggle is everywhere; as +Kearny said at Fair Oaks, "There is lovely fighting along the whole +line." + + + I fight a battle every day + Against discouragement and fear; + Some foe stands always in my way, + The path ahead is never clear! + I must forever be on guard + Against the doubts that skulk along; + I get ahead by fighting hard, + But fighting keeps my spirit strong. + + I hear the croakings of Despair, + The dark predictions of the weak; + I find myself pursued by Care, + No matter what the end I seek; + My victories are small and few, + It matters not how hard I strive; + Each day the fight begins anew, + But fighting keeps my hopes alive. + + My dreams are spoiled by circumstance, + My plans are wrecked by Fate or Luck; + Some hour, perhaps, will bring my chance, + But that great hour has never struck; + My progress has been slow and hard, + I've had to climb and crawl and swim, + Fighting for every stubborn yard, + But I have kept in fighting trim. + + I have to fight my doubts away, + And be on guard against my fears; + The feeble croaking of Dismay + Has been familiar through the years; + My dearest plans keep going wrong, + Events combine to thwart my will, + But fighting keeps my spirit strong, + And I am undefeated still! + + +_S.E. Kiser._ + +From "The New York American." + + + +[Illustration: SAMUEL ELLSWORTH KISER] + + + + +TO YOUTH AFTER PAIN + + +Since pain is the lot of all, we cannot hope to escape it. Since only +through pain can we come into true and helpful sympathy with men, we +should not wish to escape it. + + + What if this year has given + Grief that some year must bring, + What if it hurt your joyous youth, + Crippled your laughter's wing? + You always knew it was coming, + Coming to all, to you, + They always said there was suffering-- + Now it is done, come through. + + Even if you have blundered, + Even if you have sinned, + Still is the steadfast arch of the sky + And the healing veil of the wind.... + And after only a little, + A little of hurt and pain, + You shall have the web of your own old dreams + Wrapping your heart again. + + Only your heart can pity + Now, where it laughed and passed, + Now you can bend to comfort men, + One with them all at last, + You shall have back your laughter, + You shall have back your song, + Only the world is your brother now, + Only your soul is strong! + + +_Margaret Widdemer._ + +From "The Old Road to Paradise." + + + + +CAN'T + + +A great, achieving soul will not clog itself with a cowardly thought or +a cowardly watchword. Cardinal Richelieu in Bulwer-Lytton's play +declares: + + "In the lexicon of youth, which fate reserves + For a bright manhood, there is no such word + As 'fail.'" + +"Impossible," Napoleon is quoted as saying, "is a word found only in the +dictionary of fools." + + + _Can't_ is the worst word that's written or spoken; + Doing more harm here than slander and lies; + On it is many a strong spirit broken, + And with it many a good purpose dies. + It springs from the lips of the thoughtless each morning + And robs us of courage we need through the day: + It rings in our ears like a timely-sent warning + And laughs when we falter and fall by the way. + + _Can't_ is the father of feeble endeavor, + The parent of terror and half-hearted work; + It weakens the efforts of artisans clever, + And makes of the toiler an indolent shirk. + It poisons the soul of the man with a vision, + It stifles in infancy many a plan; + It greets honest toiling with open derision + And mocks at the hopes and the dreams of a man. + + _Can't_ is a word none should speak without blushing; + To utter it should be a symbol of shame; + Ambition and courage it daily is crushing; + It blights a man's purpose and shortens his aim. + Despise it with all of your hatred of error; + Refuse it the lodgment it seeks in your brain; + Arm against it as a creature of terror, + And all that you dream of you some day shall gain. + + _Can't_ is the word that is foe to ambition, + An enemy ambushed to shatter your will; + Its prey is forever the man with a mission + And bows but to courage and patience and skill. + Hate it, with hatred that's deep and undying, + For once it is welcomed 'twill break any man; + Whatever the goal you are seeking, keep trying + And answer this demon by saying: "I _can_." + + +_Edgar A. Guest._ + +From "A Heap o' Livin'." + + + + +THE STRUGGLE + + +We all dream of being St. Georges and fighting dragons amid glamor and +glory and the applause of the world. But our real fights are mostly +commonplace, routine battles, where no great victory is ours at the end +of the day. To persist in them requires quiet strength and unfaltering +courage. + + + Did you ever want to take your two bare hands, + And choke out of the world your big success? + Beat, torn fists bleeding, pathways rugged, grand, + By sheer brute strength and bigness, nothing less? + So at the last, triumphant, battered, strong, + You might gaze down on what you choked and beat, + And say, "Ah, world, you've wrought to do me wrong; + And thus have I accepted my defeat." + + Have you ever dreamed of virile deeds, and vast, + And then come back from dreams with wobbly knees, + To find your way (the braver vision past), + By picking meekly at typewriter keys; + By bending o'er a ledger, day by day, + By some machine-like drudging? No great woe + To grapple with. Slow, painful is the way, + And still, the bravest fight and conquer so. + + +_Miriam Teichner._ + + + + +HOLD FAST + + +A football coach who told his players that their rivals were too strong +for them would be seeking a new position the next year. If the opposing +team is formidable, he says so; if his men have their work cut out for +them, he admits it; but he mentions these things as incitements to +effort. Merely saying of victory that it can be won is among the surest +ways of winning it. + + + When you're nearly drowned in trouble, and the world is dark as ink; + When you feel yourself a-sinking 'neath the strain, + And you think, "I've got to holler 'Help!'" just take another breath + And pretend you've lost your voice--and can't complain! + (That's the idea!) + Pretend you've lost your voice and can't complain! + + When the future glowers at you like a threatening thunder cloud, + Just grit your teeth and bend your head and say: + "It's dark and disagreeable and I can't help feeling blue, + But there's coming sure as fate a brighter day!" + (Say it slowly!) + "But there's coming sure as fate, a brighter day!" + + You have bluffed your way through ticklish situations; that I know. + You are looking back on troubles past and gone; + Now, turn the tables, and as you have fought and won before, + Just BLUFF YOURSELF to keep on holding on! + (Try it once.) + Just bluff YOURSELF to keep on--holding on. + + Don't worry if the roseate hues of life are faded out, + Bend low before the storm and wait awhile. + The pendulum is bound to swing again and you will find + That you have not forgotten how to smile. + (That's the truth!) + That you have not forgotten how to smile. + + +_Everard Jack Appleton._ + +From "The Quiet Courage." + + + +[Illustration: JOHN KENDRICK BANGS] + + + + +WILL + + +Warren Hastings resolved in his boyhood that he would be the owner of +the estate known as Daylesford. This was the one great purpose that +unified his varied and far-reaching activities. Admire him or not, we +must at least praise his pluck in holding to his purpose--a purpose he +ultimately attained. + + + You will be what you will to be; + Let failure find its false content + In that poor word "environment," + But spirit scorns it, and is free. + + It masters time, it conquers space, + It cowes that boastful trickster Chance, + And bids the tyrant Circumstance + Uncrown and fill a servant's place. + + The human Will, that force unseen, + The offspring of a deathless Soul, + Can hew the way to any goal, + Though walls of granite intervene. + + Be not impatient in delay, + But wait as one who understands; + When spirit rises and commands + The gods are ready to obey. + + The river seeking for the sea + Confronts the dam and precipice, + Yet knows it cannot fail or miss; + _You will be what you will to be!_ + + +_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._ + +From "Poems of Power." + + + + +THE GAME + + +Lessing said that if God should come to him with truth in one hand and +the never-ending pursuit of truth in the other, and should offer him his +choice, he would humbly and reverently take the pursuit of truth. +Perhaps it is best that finite beings should not attain infinite +success. But however remote that for which they seek or strive, they may +by their diligence and generosity make the very effort to secure it +noble. In doing this they earn, as Pope tells us, a truer commendation +than success itself could bring them. "Act well thy part; there all the +honor lies." + + + Let's play it out--this little game called Life, + Where we are listed for so brief a spell; + Not just to win, amid the tumult rife, + Or where acclaim and gay applauses swell; + Nor just to conquer where some one must lose, + Or reach the goal whatever be the cost; + For there are other, better ways to choose, + Though in the end the battle may be lost. + + Let's play it out as if it were a sport + Wherein the game is better than the goal, + And never mind the detailed "score's" report + Of errors made, if each with dauntless soul + But stick it out until the day is done, + Not wasting fairness for success or fame, + So when the battle has been lost or won, + The world at least can say: "He played the game." + + Let's play it out--this little game called Work, + Or War or Love or what part each may draw; + Play like a man who scorns to quit or shirk + Because the break may carry some deep flaw; + Nor simply holding that the goal is all + That keeps the player in the contest staying; + But stick it out from curtain rise to fall, + As if the game itself were worth the playing. + + +_Grantland Rice._ + +From "The Sportlight." + + + + +COURAGE + + +The philosopher Kant held himself to his habits so precisely that people +set their watches by him as he took his daily walk. We may be equally +constant amid worldly vicissitudes, but only a man of true courage is. + + + 'Tis the front towards life that matters most-- + The tone, the point of view, + The constancy that in defeat + Remains untouched and true; + + For death in patriot fight may be + Less gallant than a smile, + And high endeavor, to the gods, + Seems in itself worth while! + + +_Florence Earle Coates._ + +From "Poems." + + + + +A GOOD NAME + + +We should respect the good name of other people, and should safeguard +our own by a high sense of honor. At the close of the Civil War a +representative of an insurance company offered Robert E. Lee the +presidency of the firm at a salary of $50,000 a year. Lee replied that +while he wished to earn his living, he doubted whether his services +would be worth so large a sum. "We don't want your services," the man +interrupted; "we want your name." "That," said Lee, quietly, "is not for +sale." He accepted, instead, the presidency of a college at $1500 a +year. + + + Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, + Is the immediate jewel of their souls: + Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; + 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; + But he that filches from me my good name + Robs me of that which not enriches him, + And makes me poor indeed. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +SWELLITIS + + +A certain employer of large numbers of men makes it a principle to +praise none of them, not because they are undeserving, and not because +he dislikes to commend, but because experience has taught him that +usually the praise goes to the head of the recipient, both impairing his +work and making it harder for others to associate with him. A good test +of a man is his way of taking commendation. He may, even while grateful, +be stirred to humility that he has not done better still, and may +resolve to accomplish more. Or imitating the frog who wished to look +like an ox, he may swell and swell until--figuratively speaking--he +bursts. + + + Somebody said he'd done it well, + And presto! his head began to swell; + Bigger and bigger the poor thing grew-- + A wonder it didn't split in two. + In size a balloon could scarcely match it; + He needed a fishing-pole to scratch it;--- + But six and a half was the size of his hat, + And it rattled around on his head at that! + + "Good work," somebody chanced to say, + And his chest swelled big as a load of hay. + About himself, like a rooster, he crowed; + Of his wonderful work he bragged and blowed + He marched around with a peacock strut; + Gigantic to him was the figure he cut;-- + But he wore a very small-sized suit, + And loosely it hung on him, to boot! + + HE was the chap who made things hum! + HE was the drumstick and the drum! + HE was the shirt bosom and the starch! + HE was the keystone in the arch! + HE was the axis of the earth! + Nothing existed before his birth! + But when he was off from work a + Nobody knew that he was away! + + This is a fact that is sad to tell: + It's the empty head that is bound to swell; + It's the light-weight fellow who soars to the skies + And bursts like a bubble before your eyes. + A big man is humbled by honest praise, + And tries to think of all the ways + To improve his work and do it well;-- + But a little man starts of himself to yell! + + +_Joseph Morris:_ + + + + +CARES + + +To those who are wearied, fretted, and worried there is no physician +like nature. When our nerves are frazzled and our sleep is unrefreshing, +we can find no better antidote to the clamorous grind and frenzy of the +city than the stillness and solitude of hills, streams, and tranquil +stars. That man lays up for himself resources of strength who now and +then exchanges the ledger for green leaves, the factory for wild +flowers, business for brook-croon and bird-song. + + + The little cares that fretted me, + I lost them yesterday + Among the fields above the sea, + Among the winds at play; + Among the lowing of the herds, + The rustling of the trees, + Among the singing of the birds, + The humming of the bees. + + The foolish fears of what may happen, + I cast them all away + Among the clover-scented grass, + Among the new-mown hay; + Among the husking of the corn + Where drowsy poppies nod, + Where ill thoughts die and good are born + Out in the fields with God. + + +_Elisabeth Barrett Browning._ + + + + +FAITH + + +Any one who has ridden across the continent on a train must marvel at +the faith and imagination of the engineers who constructed the road--the +topographical advantages seized, the grades made easy of ascent, the +curves and straight stretches planned, the tunnels so carefully +calculated that workmen beginning on opposite sides of a mountain met in +the middle--and all this visualized and thought out before the actual +work was begun. Faith has such foresight, such courage, whether it toils +actively or can merely bide its time. + + + The tree-top, high above the barren field, + Rising beyond the night's gray folds of mist, + Rests stirless where the upper air is sealed + To perfect silence, by the faint moon kissed. + But the low branches, drooping to the ground, + Sway to and fro, as sways funereal plume, + While from their restless depths low whispers sound: + "We fear, we fear the darkness and the gloom; + Dim forms beneath us pass and reappear, + And mournful tongues are menacing us here." + + Then from the topmost bough falls calm reply: + "Hush, hush, I see the coming of the morn; + Swiftly the silent night is passing by, + And in her bosom rosy Dawn is borne. + 'Tis but your own dim shadows that ye see, + 'Tis but your own low moans that trouble ye." + + So Life stands, with a twilight world around; + Faith turned serenely to the steadfast sky, + Still answering the heart that sweeps the ground + Sobbing in fear, and tossing restlessly-- + "Hush, hush! The Dawn breaks o'er the Eastern sea, + 'Tis but thine own dim shadow troubling thee." + + +_Edward Rowland Sill._ + +From "Poems." + + + + +PLAYING THE GAME + + +We all like the good sport--the man who plays fair and courteously and +with every ounce of his energy, even when the game is going against him. + + + Life is a game with a glorious prize, + If we can only play it right. + It is give and take, build and break, + And often it ends in a fight; + But he surely wins who honestly tries + (Regardless of wealth or fame), + He can never despair who plays it fair-- + How are you playing the game? + + Do you wilt and whine, if you fail to win + In the manner you think your due? + Do you sneer at the man in case that he can + And does, do better than you? + Do you take your rebuffs with a knowing grin? + Do you laugh tho' you pull up lame? + Does your faith hold true when the whole world's blue? + How are you playing the game? + + Get into the thick of it--wade in, boys! + Whatever your cherished goal; + Brace up your will till your pulses thrill, + And you dare--to your very soul! + Do something more than make a noise; + Let your purpose leap into flame + As you plunge with a cry, "I shall do or die," + Then you will be playing the game. + + +_Anonymous_. + + + + +WHAT DARK DAYS DO + + +A real man does not want all his barriers leveled. He of course welcomes +easy tasks, but he welcomes hard ones also. The difficult or unpleasant +thing puts him on his mettle, throws him on his own resources. It gives +him something of + + "The stern joy which warriors feel + In foemen worthy of their steel." + +Moreover as a foil or contrast it enables him to value more truly the +good things he constantly enjoys, perhaps without perceiving them. + + + I sorter like a gloomy day, + Th' kind that jest _won't_ smile; + It makes a feller hump hisself + T' make life seem wuth while. + When sun's a-shinin' an' th' sky + Is washed out bright an' gay, + It ain't no job to whistle--but + It is-- + When skies air gray! + + So gloomy days air good fer us, + They make us look about + To find our blessin's--make us count + The friends who never doubt, + Most any one kin smile and joke + And hold blue-devils back + When it is bright, but we must work + T' grin-- + When skies air black! + + That's why I sorter _like_ dark days, + That put it up to me + To keep th' gloom from soakin' in + My whole anatomy! + An' if they _never_ come along + My soul would surely rust-- + Th' dark days keeps my cheerfulness + From draggin' + In th' dust! + + +_Everard Jack Appleton._ + +From "The Quiet Courage." + + + + +GLADNESS + + +A coal miner does not need the sun's illumination. He carries his own +light. + + + The world has brought not anything + To make me glad to-day! + The swallow had a broken wing, + And after all my journeying + There was no water in the spring-- + My friend has said me nay. + But yet somehow I needs must sing + As on a luckier day. + + Dusk fails as gray as any tear, + There is no hope in sight! + But something in me seems so fair, + That like a star I needs must wear + A safety made of shining air + Between me and the night. + Such inner weavings do I wear + All fashioned of delight! + + I need not for these robes of mine + The loveliness of earth, + But happenings remote and fine + Like threads of dreams will blow and shine + In gossamer and crystalline, + And I was glad from birth. + So even while my eyes repine, + My heart is clothed in mirth. + + +_Anna Hempstead Branch._ + +From "The Shoes That Danced, and Other Poems." + + + + +IT WON'T STAY BLOWED + + +It is easier to fail than succeed. It is easier to drift downstream than +up. But just as pent steam finds an escape somewhere, so will the man +who persists break at one point or another through confining +circumstance. + + + To the sniffing pickaninny once his good old mammy said, + "Yo' lil' black nose am drippin' from de cold dat's in yo' head, + An' yo' sleeve am slick and shiny like de hillside when it snows. + Why doan' you pump de bellers from de inside ob yo' nose?" + "Ain't I been," the child replied to her, "a-doin' ob jes' dat + Twel I's got a turble empty feel right whur I wears muh hat? + De traffic soht o' nacherly keeps gittin' in de road. + I blow muh nose a-plenty, but + it + won't + stay + blowed. + + "What's de use ob raisin' chickens ef dey won't stay riz? + What's de use ob freezin' sherbet ef it won't stay friz? + What's de use ob payin' debts off ef dey's gwine stay owed? + What's de use ob blowin' noses ef dey won't stay blowed?" + + This old world is sometimes jealous of the chap who means to rise; + It sneers at what he's doing or it bats him 'twixt the eyes; + It trips him when he's careless, and it makes his way so hard + What's left of him is sinew, not a walking tub of lard; + But it's only wasting effort, for by George, the guy keeps on + When his hopes have crumbled round him and you'd think his faith was gone, + Till the world at last knocks under and it passes him a crown: + Once, twice, thrice it has upset him, but + he + won't + stay + down. + + What cares he when out he's flattened by the cruel blow it deals? + He has rubber in his shoulders and a mainspring in his heels. + Let the world uncork its buffets till he's bruised from toe to crown; + Let it thump him, bump him, dump him, but he won't stay down. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +THE RAINBOW + + +Our lives are not a hodge-podge of separate experiences, though they +sometimes seem so. They are held together by simple things which we +behold again and again with the same emotions. Thus the man is what the +boy has been; the tree is inclined in the precise direction the twig was +bent. + + + My heart leaps up when I behold + A rainbow in the sky: + So was it when my life began; + So is it now I am a man; + So be it when I shall grow old, + Or let me die! + The Child is father of the Man; + And I could wish my days to be + Bound each to each by natural piety. + + +_William Wordsworth._ + + + + +THE FIRM OF GRIN AND BARRETT + + +It has been said that when disaster overtakes us, we can do one of two +things--we can grin and bear it, or we needn't grin. The spirit that +keeps a smile on our faces when our burden is heaviest is the spirit +that will win in the long run. Many men know how to take success +quietly. The real test of a man is he way he takes failure. + + + No financial throe volcanic + Ever yet was known to scare it; + Never yet was any panic + Scared the firm of Grin and Barrett. + From the flurry and the fluster, + From the ruin and the crashes, + They arise in brighter lustre, + Like the phoenix from his ashes. + When the banks and corporations + Quake with fear, they do not share it; + Smiling through all perturbations + Goes the firm of Grin and Barrett. + Grin and Barrett, + Who can scare it? + Scare the firm of Grin and Barrett? + + When the tide-sweep of reverses + Smites them, firm they stand and dare it + Without wailings, tears, or curses, + This stout firm of Grin and Barrett. + Even should their house go under + In the flood and inundation, + Calm they stand amid the thunder + Without noise or demonstration. + And, when sackcloth is the fashion, + With a patient smile they wear it, + Without petulance or passion, + This old firm of Grin and Barrett. + Grin and Barrett, + Who can scare it? + Scare the firm of Grin and Barrett? + + When the other firms show dizziness, + Here's a house that does not share it. + Wouldn't you like to join the business? + Join the firm of Grin and Barrett? + Give your strength that does not murmur, + And your nerve that does not falter, + And you've joined a house that's firmer + Than the old rock of Gibraltar. + They have won a good prosperity; + Why not join the firm and share it? + Step, young fellow, with celerity; + Join the firm of Grin and Barrett. + Grin and Barrett, + Who can scare it? + Scare the firm of Grin and Barrett? + + +_Sam Walter Foss._ + +From "Songs of the Average Man." + + + +[Illustration: SAM WALTER FOSS] + + + + +CHALLENGE + + +Napoleon is reported to have complained of the English that they didn't +have sense enough to know when they were beaten. Even if defeat is +unmistakable, it need not be final. A battle may be lost, but the +campaign won; a campaign lost, but the war won. + + + Life, I challenge you to try me, + Doom me to unending pain; + Stay my hand, becloud my vision, + Break my heart and then--again. + + Shatter every dream I've cherished, + Fill my heart with ruthless fear; + Follow every smile that cheers me + With a bitter, blinding tear. + + Thus I dare you; you can try me, + Seek to make me cringe and moan, + Still my unbound soul defies you, + I'll withstand you--and, alone! + + +_Jean Nette._ + + + + +YOUR MISSION + + +One of the most often-heard of sentences is "I don't know what I'm to do +in the world." Yet very few people are ever for a moment out of +something to do, especially if they do not insist on climbing to the top +of the pole and waving the flag, but are willing to steady the pole +while somebody else climbs. + + + If you cannot on the ocean + Sail among the swiftest fleet, + Rocking on the highest billows, + Laughing at the storms you meet; + You can stand among the sailors, + Anchored yet within the bay, + You can lend a hand to help them + As they launch their boats away. + + If you are too weak to journey + Up the mountain, steep and high, + You can stand within the valley + While the multitudes go by; + You can chant in happy measure + As they slowly pass along-- + Though they may forget the singer, + They will not forget the song. + + * * * * * + + If you cannot in the harvest + Garner up the richest sheaves, + Many a grain, both ripe and golden, + Oft the careless reaper leaves; + Go and glean among the briars + Growing rank against the wall, + For it may be that their shadow + Hides the heaviest grain of all. + + If you cannot in the conflict + Prove yourself a soldier true; + If, where fire and smoke are thickest, + There's no work for you to do; + When the battle field is silent, + You can go with careful tread; + You can bear away the wounded, + You can cover up the dead. + + Do not then stand idly waiting + For some greater work to do; + Fortune is a lazy goddess, + She will never come to you; + Go and toil in any vineyard, + Do not fear to do and dare. + If you want a field of labor + You can find it anywhere. + + +_Ellen M.H. Gates._ + + + + +VICTORY + + +To fail is not a disgrace; the disgrace lies in not trying. In his old +age Sir Walter Scott found that a publishing firm he was connected with +was heavily in debt. He refused to take advantage of the bankruptcy law, +and sat down with his pen to make good the deficit. Though he wore out +his life in the struggle and did not live to see the debt entirely +liquidated, he died an honored and honorable man. + + + I call no fight a losing fight + If, fighting, I have gained some straight new strength; + If, fighting, I turned ever toward the light, + All unallied with forces of the night; + If, beaten, quivering, I could say at length: + "I did no deed that needs to be unnamed; + I fought--and lost--and I am unashamed." + + +_Miriam Teichner._ + + + + +TIMES GO BY TURNS + + +One of the greatest blessings in life is alteration. The ins become +outs, the outs ins; the ups become downs, the downs ups; and so on--and +it is better so. We must not get too highly elated at success, for life +is not all success. We must not grow too downcast from failure, for life +is not all failure. + + + The lopped tree in time may grow again, + Most naked plants renew both fruit and flower; + The sorriest wight may find release of pain, + The driest soil suck in some moistening shower; + Time goes by turns, and chances change by course, + From foul to fair, from better hap to worse. + + The sea of Fortune doth not ever flow; + She draws her favors to the lowest ebb; + Her tides have equal times to come and go; + Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web; + No joy so great but runneth to an end, + No hap so hard but may in fine amend. + + Not always fall of leaf, nor ever Spring; + Not endless night, yet not eternal day; + The saddest birds a season find to sing; + The roughest storm a calm may soon allay. + Thus, with succeeding turns God tempereth all, + That man may hope to rise, yet fear to fall. + + A chance may win that by mischance was lost; + That net that holds no great takes little fish; + In some things all, in all things none are crost; + Few all they need, but none have all they wish. + Unmingled joys here to no man befall; + Who least, hath some; who most, hath never all. + + +_Robert Southwell._ + + + + +TO-DAY + + +The past did not behold to-day; the future shall not. We must use it now +if it is to be of any benefit to mankind. + + + So here hath been dawning + Another blue day; + Think, wilt thou let it + Slip useless away? + + Out of Eternity + This new day is born; + Into Eternity, + At night will return. + + Behold it aforetime + No eye ever did; + So soon it for ever + From all eyes is hid. + + Here hath been dawning + Another blue day; + Think, wilt thou let it + Slip useless away? + + +_Thomas Carlyle._ + + + + +UNAFRAID + + + I have no fear. What is in store for me + Shall find me ready for it, undismayed. + God grant my only cowardice may be + Afraid--to be afraid! + + +_Everard Jack Appleton._ + +From "The Quiet Courage." + + + + +BORROWED FEATHERS + + +Many good, attractive people spoil the merits they have by trying to be +something bigger or showier. It is always best to be one's self. + + + A rooster one morning was preening his feathers + That glistened so bright in the sun; + He admired the tints of the various colors + As he laid them in place one by one. + Now as roosters go he was a fine bird, + And he should have been satisfied; + But suddenly there as he marched along, + Some peacock feathers he spied. + They had beautiful spots and their colors were gay-- + He wished that his own could be green; + He dropped his tail, tried to hide it away; + Was completely ashamed to be seen. + + Then his foolish mind hatched up a scheme-- + A peacock yet he could be; + So he hopped behind a bush to undress + Where the other fowls could not see. + He caught his own tail between his bill, + And pulled every feather out; + And into the holes stuck the peacock plumes; + Then proudly strutted about. + The other fowls rushed to see the queer sight; + And the peacocks came when they heard; + They could not agree just what he was, + But pronounced him a funny bird. + + Then the chickens were angry that one of their kind + Should try to be a peacock; + And the peacocks were mad that one with their tail + Should belong to a common fowl flock. + So the chickens beset him most cruelly behind, + And yanked his whole tail out together; + The peacocks attacked him madly before, + And pulled out each chicken feather. + And when he stood stripped clean down to the skin, + A horrible thing to the rest, + He learned this sad lesson when it was too late-- + As his own simple self he was best. + + +_Joseph Morris._ + + + + +KEEP ON KEEPIN' ON + + +The author of these homely stanzas has caught perfectly the spirit which +succeeds in the rough-and-tumble of actual life. + + + If the day looks kinder gloomy + And your chances kinder slim, + If the situation's puzzlin' + And the prospect's awful grim, + If perplexities keep pressin' + Till hope is nearly gone, + Just bristle up and grit your teeth + And keep on keepin' on. + + Frettin' never wins a fight + And fumin' never pays; + There ain't no use in broodin' + In these pessimistic ways; + Smile just kinder cheerfully + Though hope is nearly gone, + And bristle up and grit your teeth + And keep on keepin' on. + + There ain't no use in growlin' + And grumblin' all the time, + When music's ringin' everywhere + And everything's a rhyme. + Just keep on smilin' cheerfully + If hope is nearly gone, + And bristle up and grit your teeth + And keep on keepin' on. + + +_Anonymous._ + + + + +THE DISAPPOINTED + + +Those who have striven nobly and failed deserve sympathy. Sometimes they +deserve also praise unreserved, in that they have refused to do +something ignoble which would have led to what the world calls success. +They have lived the idea which Macbeth merely proclaimed: + + "I dare do all that may become a man; + Who dares do more is none." + + + There are songs enough for the hero + Who dwells on the heights of fame; + I sing of the disappointed-- + For those who have missed their aim. + + I sing with a tearful cadence + For one who stands in the dark, + And knows that his last, best arrow + Has bounded back from the mark. + + I sing for the breathless runner, + The eager, anxious soul, + Who falls with his strength exhausted. + Almost in sight of the goal; + + For the hearts that break in silence, + With a sorrow all unknown, + For those who need companions, + Yet walk their ways alone. + + There are songs enough for the lovers + Who share love's tender pain, + I sing for the one whose passion + Is given all in vain. + + For those whose spirit comrades + Have missed them on their way, + I sing, with a heart o'erflowing, + This minor strain to-day. + + And I know the Solar system + Must somewhere keep in space + A prize for that spent runner + Who barely lost the race. + + For the plan would be imperfect + Unless it held some sphere + That paid for the toil and talent + And love that are wasted here. + + +_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._ + +From "Picked Poems." + + + + +LET ME LIVE OUT MY YEARS + + +We speak of the comforts and ease of old age, but our noblest selves do +not really desire them. We want to do more than exist. We want to be +alive to the very last. + + + Let me live out my years in heat of blood! + Let me die drunken with the dreamer's wine! + Let me not see this soul-house built of mud + Go toppling to the dust--a vacant shrine! + + Let me go quickly like a candle light + Snuffed out just at the heyday of its glow! + Give me high noon--and let it then be night! + Thus would I go. + + And grant that when I face the grisly Thing, + My song may triumph down the gray Perhaps! + Let me be as a tuneswept fiddlestring + That feels the Master Melody--and snaps. + + +_John G. Neihardt_ + +From "The Quest" (collected lyrics). + + + + +COLUMBUS + + +This poem pictures courage and high resolution. To the terrors of an +unknown sea and the mutinous dismay of the sailors Columbus has but two +things to oppose--his faith and his unflinching will. But these suffice, +as they always do. In the last four lines of the poem is a lesson for +our nation to-day. The seas upon which our ideals have launched us are +perilous and uncharted. In some ways our whole voyage of democracy seems +futile. Shall we turn back, or shall we, like Columbus, answer the +falterers in words that leap like a leaping sword; "Sail on, sail on"? + + + Behind him lay the gray Azores, + Behind the Gates of Hercules; + Before him not the ghost of shores: + Before him only shoreless seas. + The good mate said: "Now must we pray, + For lo! the very stars are gone. + Brave Adm'r'l, speak; what shall I say?" + "Why, say: 'Sail on! sail on! and on!'" + + "My men grow mutinous day by day; + My men grow ghastly wan and weak." + The stout mate thought of home; a spray + Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek. + "What shall I say, brave Adm'r'l, say, + If we sight naught but seas at dawn?" + "Why, you shall say at break of day: + 'Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!'" + + They sailed and sailed, as winds might blow; + Until at last the blanched mate said: + "Why, now not even God would know + Should I and all my men fall dead. + These very winds forget their way, + For God from these dread seas is gone. + Now speak, brave Adm'r'l; speak and say--" + He said: "Sail on! sail on! and on!" + + They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate: + "This mad sea shows his teeth to-night. + He curls his lip, he lies in wait, + With lifted teeth, as if to bite! + Brave Adm'r'l, say but one good word: + What shall we do when hope is gone?" + The words leapt like a leaping sword: + "Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!" + + Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck, + And peered through darkness. Ah, that night + Of all dark nights! And then a speck-- + It grew, a starlit flag unfurled! + It grew to be Time's burst of dawn. + He gained a world; he gave that world + Its grandest lesson: "On! sail on!" + + +_Joaquin Miller._ + +From "Joaquin Miller's Complete Poems." + + + + +PER ASPERA + +A motto has been made of the Latin phrase "per aspera ad astra," of +which the translation sometimes given is "through bolts and bars to the +stars." + + + Thank God, a man can grow! + He is not bound + With earthward gaze to creep along the ground: + Though his beginnings be but poor and low, + Thank God, a man can grow! + The fire upon his altars may burn dim, + The torch he lighted may in darkness fail, + And nothing to rekindle it avail,-- + Yet high beyond his dull horizon's rim, + Arcturus and the Pleiads beckon him. + + +_Florence Earle Coates._ + +From "Poems." + + + + +TIT FOR TAT + + +We are quick to notice obstacles, grudges, affronts. Are we equally +quick to recognize the kindly influences that speed us on our way? The +truth is we are each of us a debtor to life, and as honest men we should +do all we can to discharge the obligation. + + + "Life," you say, "'s an old curmudgeon; yes, a thing whose heart is + flint; + When I ask a friendly greeting, all I get's an angry glint. + Let me do it every good turn that I can--my very best, + Still it strikes me, trips, maligns me, and denies my least request. + + "So," you say, "my patience ended, I will give it tit for tat." + What a bunch of animosities is covered by your hat! + All the roses life can offer bloom and beckon to your soul, + But you close your eyes to roses and in thorns lie down and roll. + + Life does nothing for you, sonny? What a notion you have! Say, + Make a little inventory of its gifts to you to-day. + You've a house or room to sleep in--did you build it with your hand? + If you did, who made the hammer and who cleared for you the land? + + And electric lights--you use them; did you also put them there? + Beefsteak, coal, your mail, shoes, street cars--do they come like + rain from air? + Or do countless men, far-scattered, toil that you may have more + ease?-- + Stokers, hodmen, farmers, plumbers, Yankees, dagoes, Japanese? + + "Oh, that's general," you tell me. You have private blessings too. + Why, your mother in your childhood slaved and wrought and lived for you. + Helpful hands were all around you--hopes, fond wishes in the past; + Even now each day from somewhere friendly looks are on you cast. + + Though you've been both crossed and harried, you've not struggled + on alone; + Through the discords of endeavor comes to you an answering tone. + Life has done you many favors. Will you give it tit for tat? + Since you've looked so much at this side, won't you have a look + at that? + + Don't help only those who've helped you, count the rest as strangers, + foes; + How long now would you have lasted had all done as you propose? + Many and many a benefactor you did not nor can repay-- + There's your mother. Pass the kindness on to others--that's the way. + + Life it is that's given freely. Unto life make due return. + Whether folks are undeserving, neither seek nor wish to learn. + Hit your dernedest for your teammates every time you come to bat, + And the world will be more happy that you give it tit for tat. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +THE KINGDOM OF MAN + + +The wisest men know that the greatest world is not outside them. They +could, in Shakespeare's phrase, be bounded by a nut-shell and count +themselves kings of infinite space. + + + What of the outer drear, + As long as there's inner light; + As long as the sun of cheer + Shines ardently bright? + + As long as the soul's a-wing, + As long as the heart is true, + What power hath trouble to bring + A sorrow to you? + + No bar can encage the soul, + Nor capture the spirit free, + As long as old earth shall roll, + Or hours shall be. + + Our world is the world within, + Our life is the thought we take, + And never an outer sin + Can mar it or break. + + Brood not on the rich man's land, + Sigh not for miser's gold, + Holding in reach of your hand + The treasure untold + + That lies in the Mines of Heart, + That rests in the soul alone-- + Bid worry and care depart, + Come into your own! + + +_John Kendrick_ + +From "Songs of Cheer." + + + + +ABOU BEN ADHEM + + +"Forgive my enemies?" said the dying man to the priest. "I have none. +I've killed them all." This old ideal of exterminating our enemies has +by no means disappeared from the earth. But it is waning. "Live and let +live" is a more modern slogan, which mounts in turn from mere +toleration of other people to a spirit of service and universal +brotherhood. Love of our fellow men--has humanity reached any height +superior to this? + + + Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!) + Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, + And saw, within the moonlight in his room, + Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, + An angel writing in a book of gold:-- + Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, + And to the presence in the room he said, + "What writest thou?"--The vision raised its head, + And with a look made of all sweet accord, + Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord." + "And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so," + Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, + But cheerily still; and said, "I pray thee, then, + Write me as one that loves his fellow-men." + + The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night + It came again with a great wakening light, + And showed the names whom love of God had blessed, + And, lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. + + +_Leigh Hunt._ + + + + +THIS WORLD + +There is good in life and there is ill. The question is where we should +put the emphasis. + + + This world that we're a-livin' in + Is mighty hard to beat; + You git a thorn with every rose, + But _ain't _the roses _sweet_! + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +From "The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +GRAY DAYS + + +By reckoning up the odds against us and ignoring the forces in our +favor, we may indeed close the door of hope. But why not take matters +the other way about? Why not see the situation clearly and then throw +our own strong purpose in the scales? In the course of a battle an +officer reported to Stonewall Jackson that he must fall back because his +ammunition had been spoiled by a rainstorm. "So has the enemy's," was +the instant reply. "Give them the bayonet." This resolute spirit won the +battle. + + + Hang the gray days! + The deuce-to-pay days! + The feeling-blue and nothing-to-do days! + The sit-by-yourself-for-there's-nothing-new days! + When the cat that Care killed without excuse + With your inner self's crying, "Oh, what's the use?" + And you wonder whatever is going to become of you, + And you feel that a cipher expresses the sum of you; + And you know that you'll never, + Oh, never, be clever, + Spite of all your endeavor + Or hard work or whatever! + Oh, gee! + What a mix-up you see + When you look at the world where you happen to be! + Where strangers are hateful and friends are a bore, + And you know in your heart you will smile nevermore! + Gee, kid! + Clap on the lid! + It is all a mistake! Give your worries the skid! + There are sunny days coming + Succeeding the blue + And bees will be humming + Making honey for you, + And your heart will be singing + The merriest tune + While April is bringing + A May and a June! + Gray days? + Play days! + Joy-bringing pay days + And heart-lifting May days! + The sun will be shining in just a wee while + So smile! + + +_Griffith Alexander._ + +From "The Philadelphia Evening Public Ledger." + + + +[Illustration: EDMUND VANCE COOKE] + + + + +LAUGH A LITTLE BIT + + +"A merry heart doeth good like a medicine"; a little laughter cures many +a seeming ill. + + + Here's a motto, just your fit-- + Laugh a little bit. + When you think you're trouble hit, + Laugh a little bit. + Look misfortune in the face. + Brave the beldam's rude grimace; + Ten to one 'twill yield its place, + If you have the wit and grit + Just to laugh a little bit. + + Keep your face with sunshine lit, + Laugh a little bit. + All the shadows off will flit, + If you have the grit and wit + Just to laugh a little bit. + + Cherish this as sacred writ-- + Laugh a little bit. + Keep it with you, sample it, + Laugh a little bit. + Little ills will sure betide you, + Fortune may not sit beside you, + Men may mock and fame deride you, + But you'll mind them not a whit + If you laugh a little bit. + + +_Edmund Vance Cooke._ + +From "A Patch of Pansies." + + + + +A SONG OF LIFE + + +Many of us merely exist, and think that we live. What we should regain +at all costs is freshness and intensity of being. This need not involve +turbulent activity. It may involve quite the opposite. + + + Say not, "I live!" + Unless the morning's trumpet brings + A shock of glory to your soul, + Unless the ecstasy that sings + Through rushing worlds and insects' wings, + Sends you upspringing to your goal, + Glad of the need for toil and strife, + Eager to grapple hands with Life-- + Say not, "I live!" + + Say not, "I live!" + Unless the energy that rings + Throughout this universe of fire + A challenge to your spirit flings, + Here in the world of men and things, + Thrilling you with a huge desire + To mate your purpose with the stars, + To shout with Jupiter and Mars-- + Say not, "I live!" + + Say not, "I live!" + Such were a libel on the Plan + Blazing within the mind of God + Ere world or star or sun began. + Say rather, with your fellow man, + "I grub; I burrow in the sod." + Life is not life that does not flame + With consciousness of whence it came-- + Say not, "I live!" + + +_Angela Morgan._ + +From "The Hour Has Struck." + + + + +A POOR UNFORTUNATE + + +Things are never so bad but they might have been worse. An immigrant +into the South paid a negro to bring him a wild turkey. The next day he +complained: "You shouldn't shoot at the turkey's body, Rastus. Shoot at +his head. The flesh of that turkey was simply full of shot." "Boss," +said the negro, "dem shot was meant for me." + + + I + + His hoss went dead an' his mule went lame; + He lost six cows in a poker game; + A harricane came on a summer's day, + An' carried the house whar' he lived away; + Then a airthquake come when that wuz gone, + An' swallered the lan' that the house stood on! + An' the tax collector, _he_ come roun' + An' charged him up fer the hole in the groun'! + An' the city marshal--he come in view + An' said he wanted his street tax, too! + + II + + Did he moan an' sigh? Did he set an' cry + An' cuss the harricane sweepin' by? + Did he grieve that his ol' friends failed to call + When the airthquake come an' swallered all? + Never a word o' blame he said, + With all them troubles on top his head! + Not _him_.... He clumb to the top o' the hill-- + Whar' standin' room wuz left him still, + An', barin' his head, here's what he said: + "I reckon it's time to git up an' git; + But, Lord, I hain't had the measels yit!" + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +From "The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +THE TRAINERS + + +To Franklin, seeking recognition and aid for his country at the French +court, came news of an American disaster. "Howe has taken Philadelphia," +his opponents taunted him. "Oh, no," he answered, "Philadelphia has +taken Howe." He shrewdly foresaw that the very magnitude of what the +British had done would lull them into overconfidence and inaction, and +would stir the Americans to more determined effort. Above all, he +himself was undisturbed; for to the strong-hearted, trials and reverses +are instruments of final success. + + + My name is Trouble--I'm a busy bloke-- + I am the test of Courage--and of Class-- + I bind the coward to a bitter yoke, + I drive the craven from the crowning pass; + Weaklings I crush before they come to fame; + But as the red star guides across the night, + I train the stalwart for a better game; + I drive the brave into a harder fight. + + My name is Hard Luck--the wrecker of rare dreams-- + I follow all who seek the open fray; + I am the shadow where the far light gleams + For those who seek to know the open way; + Quitters I break before they reach the crest, + But where the red field echoes with the drums, + I build the fighter for the final test + And mold the brave for any drive that comes. + + My name is Sorrow--I shall come to all + To block the surfeit of an endless joy; + Along the Sable Road I pay my call + Before the sweetness of success can cloy; + And weaker souls shall weep amid the throng + And fall before me, broken and dismayed; + But braver hearts shall know that I belong + And take me in, serene and unafraid. + + My name's Defeat--but through the bitter fight, + To those who know, I'm something more than friend; + For I can build beyond the wrath of might + And drive away all yellow from the blend; + For those who quit, I am the final blow, + But for the brave who seek their chance to learn, + I show the way, at last, beyond the foe, + To where the scarlet flames of triumph burn. + + +_Grantland Rice._ + +From "The Sportlight." + + + + +LIFE + + +Most of us have failed or gone astray in one fashion or another, at one +time or another. But we need not become despondent at such times. We +should resolve to reap the full benefit of the discovery of our +weakness, our folly. + + + All in the dark we grope along, + And if we go amiss + We learn at least which path is wrong, + And there is gain in this. + + We do not always win the race + By only running right, + We have to tread the mountain's base + Before we reach its height. + + * * * * * + + But he who loves himself the last + And knows the use of pain, + Though strewn with errors all his past, + He surely shall attain. + + Some souls there are that needs must taste + Of wrong, ere choosing right; + We should not call those years a waste + Which led us to the light. + + +_Etta Wheeler Wilcox._ + +From "Poems of Power." + + + + +A TOAST TO MERRIMENT + + +A lady said to Whistler that there were but two painters--himself and +Velazquez. He replied: "Madam, why drag in Velazquez?" So it is with +Joyousness and Gloom. Both exist,--but why drag in Gloom? + + + Make merry! Though the day be gray + Forget the clouds and let's be gay! + How short the days we linger here: + A birth, a breath, and then--the bier! + Make merry, you and I, for when + We part we may not meet again! + + What tonic is there in a frown? + You may go up and I go down, + Or I go up and you--who knows + The way that either of us goes? + Make merry! Here's a laugh, for when + We part we may not meet again! + + Make merry! What of frets and fears? + There is no happiness in tears. + You tremble at the cloud and lo! + 'Tis gone--and so 'tis with our woe, + Full half of it but fancied ills. + Make merry! 'Tis the gloom that kills. + + Make merry! There is sunshine yet, + The gloom that promised, let's forget, + The quip and jest are on the wing, + Why sorrow when we ought to sing? + Refill the cup of joy, for then + We part and may not meet again. + + A smile, a jest, a joke--alas! + We come, we wonder, and we pass. + The shadow falls; so long we rest + In graves, where is no quip or jest. + Good day! Good cheer! Good-bye! For then + We part and may not meet again! + + +_James W. Foley._ + +From "Friendly Rhymes." + + + + +MISTRESS FATE + + +"Faint heart never won fair lady," Mistress Fate herself should be +courted, not with feminine finesse, but with masculine courage and +aggression. + + + Flout her power, young man! + She is merely shrewish, scolding,-- + She is plastic to your molding, + She is woman in her yielding to the fires desires fan. + Flout her power, young man! + + Fight her fair, strong man! + Such a serpent love is this,-- + Bitter wormwood in her kiss! + When she strikes, be nerved and ready; + Keep your gaze both bright and steady, + Chance no rapier-play, but hotly press the quarrel she began! + Fight her fair, strong man! + + Gaze her down, old man! + Now no laughter may defy her, + Not a shaft of scorn come nigh her, + But she waits within the shadows, in dark shadows very near. + And her silence is your fear. + Meet her world-old eyes of warning! Gaze them down with courage! _Can + You gaze them down, old man?_ + + +_William Rose Benet._ + +From "Merchants from Cathay." + + + + +SLEEP AND THE MONARCH + +(FROM "2 HENRY IV.") + + +The great elemental blessings cannot be "cornered." Indeed they cannot +be bought at all, but are the natural property of the man whose ways of +life are such as to retain them. In this passage a disappointed and +harassed king comments on the slumber which he cannot woo to his couch, +yet which his humblest subject enjoys. + + + How many thousand of my poorest subjects + Are at this hour asleep! O sleep! O gentle sleep! + Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, + That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down + And steep my senses in forgetfulness? + Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, + Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, + And hushed with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, + Than in the perfumed chambers of the great, + Under the canopies of costly state, + And lulled with sound of sweetest melody? + O thou dull god! why liest thou with the vile + In loathsome beds, and leav'st the kingly couch + A watch-case or a common 'larum bell? + Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast + Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains + In cradle of the rude imperious surge, + And in the visitation of the winds, + Who take the ruffian billows by the top, + Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them + With deafning clamor in the slippery clouds, + That with the hurly death itself awakes? + Canst thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose + To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude, + And in the calmest and most stillest night, + With all appliances and means to boot, + Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down! + Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +NEVER TROUBLE TROUBLE + + +To borrow trouble is to contract a debt that any man is better without. +If your troubles are not borrowed, they are not likely to be many or +great. + + + I used to hear a saying + That had a deal of pith; + It gave a cheerful spirit + To face existence with, + Especially when matters + Seemed doomed to go askew, + 'Twas _Never trouble trouble + Till trouble troubles you._ + + Not woes at hand, those coming + Are hardest to resist; + We hear them stalk like giants, + We see them through a mist. + But big things in the brewing + Are small things in the brew; + So never trouble trouble + Till trouble troubles you. + + Just look at things through glasses + That show the evidence; + One lens of them is courage, + The other common sense. + They'll make it clear, misgivings + Are just a bugaboo; + No more you'll trouble trouble + Till trouble troubles you. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +CLEAR THE WAY + + +Humanity is always meeting obstacles. All honor to the men who do not +fear obstacles, but push them aside and press on. Stephenson was +explaining his idea that a locomotive steam engine could run along a +track and draw cars after it. "But suppose a cow gets on the track," +some one objected. "So much the worse," said Stephenson, "for the cow." + + + Men of thought! be up and stirring, + Night and day; + Sow the seed, withdraw the curtain, + Clear the way! + Men of action, aid and cheer them, + As ye may! + There's a fount about to stream, + There's a light about to gleam, + There's a warmth about to glow, + There's a flower about to blow; + There's midnight blackness changing + Into gray! + Men of thought and men of action, + Clear the way! + + Once the welcome light has broken, + Who shall say + What the unimagined glories + Of the day? + What the evil that shall perish + In its ray? + Aid it, hopes of honest men; + Aid the dawning, tongue and pen; + Aid it, paper, aid it, type, + Aid it, for the hour is ripe; + And our earnest must not slacken + Into play. + Men of thought and men of action, + Clear the way! + + Lo! a cloud's about to vanish + From the day; + And a brazen wrong to crumble + Into clay! + With the Right shall many more + Enter, smiling at the door; + With the giant Wrong shall fall + Many others great and small, + That for ages long have held us + For their prey. + Men of thought and men of action, + Clear the way! + + +_Charles Mackay._ + + + + +ONE FIGHT MORE + + +We need not expect much of the man who, when defeated, gives way either +to despair or to a wild impulse for immediate revenge. But from the man +who stores up his strength quietly and bides his time for a new effort, +we may expect everything. + + + Now, think you, Life, I am defeated quite? + More than a single battle shall be mine + Before I yield the sword and give the sign + And turn, a crownless outcast, to the night. + Wounded, and yet unconquered in the fight, + I wait in silence till the day may shine + Once more upon my strength, and all the line + Of your defenses break before my might. + + Mine be that warrior's blood who, stricken sore, + Lies in his quiet chamber till he hears + Afar the clash and clang of arms, and knows + The cause he lived for calls for him once more; + And straightway rises, whole and void of fears, + And armed, turns him singing to his foes. + + +_Theodosia Garrison._ + +From "The Earth Cry." + + + + +A PSALM OF LIFE + +At times this existence of ours seems to be meaningless; whether we have +succeeded or whether we have failed appears to make little difference to +us, and therefore effort seems scarcely worth while. But Longfellow +tells us this view is all wrong. The past can take care of itself, and +we need not even worry very much about the future; but if we are true to +our own natures, we must be up and doing in the present. Time is short, +and mastery in any field of human activity is so long a process that it +forbids us to waste our moments. Yet we must learn also how to wait and +endure. In short, we must not become slaves to either indifference or +impatience, but must make it our business to play a man's part in life. + + + Tell me not, in mournful numbers, + Life is but an empty dream!-- + For the soul is dead that slumbers, + And things are not what they seem. + + Life is real! Life is earnest! + And the grave is not its goal; + Dust thou art, to dust returnest, + Was not spoken of the soul. + + Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, + Is our destined end or way; + But to act, that each to-morrow + Find us farther than to-day. + + Art is long, and Time is fleeting, + And our hearts, though stout and brave, + Still, like muffled drums, are beating + Funeral marches to the grave. + + In the world's broad field of battle, + In the bivouac of Life, + Be not like dumb, driven cattle! + Be a hero in the strife! + + Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! + Let the dead Past bury its dead! + Act,--act in the living Present! + Heart within, and God o'erhead! + + Lives of great men all remind us + We can make our lives sublime, + And, departing, leave behind us + Footprints on the sands of time; + + Footprints, that perhaps another, + Sailing o'er life's solemn main, + A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, + Seeing, shall take heart again. + + Let us, then, be up and doing, + With a heart for any fate; + Still achieving, still pursuing, + Learn to labor and to wait. + + +_Henry Wadsworth Longfellow._ + + + + +A CREED + +Men may seem sundered from each other; but the soul that each possesses, +and the destiny common to all, invest them with a basic brotherhood. + + + There is a destiny that makes us brothers: + None goes his way alone: + All that we send into the lives of others + Comes back into our own. + + I care not what his temples or his creeds, + One thing holds firm and fast-- + That into his fateful heap of days and deeds + The soul of a man is cast. + + +_Edwin Markham_ + +From "Lincoln, and Other Poems." + + + + +BATTLE CRY + +We should win if we can. But in any case we should prove our manhood by +fighting. + + + More than half beaten, but fearless, + Facing the storm and the night; + Breathless and reeling but tearless, + Here in the lull of the fight, + I who bow not but before thee, + God of the fighting Clan, + Lifting my fists, I implore Thee, + Give me the heart of a Man! + + What though I live with the winners + Or perish with those who fall? + Only the cowards are sinners, + Fighting the fight is all. + Strong is my foe--he advances! + Snapt is my blade, O Lord! + See the proud banners and lances! + Oh, spare me this stub of a sword! + + Give me no pity, nor spare me; + Calm not the wrath of my Foe. + See where he beckons to dare me! + Bleeding, half beaten--I go. + Not for the glory of winning, + Not for the fear of the night; + Shunning the battle is sinning-- + Oh, spare me the heart to fight! + + Red is the mist about me; + Deep is the wound in my side; + "Coward" thou criest to flout me? + O terrible Foe, thou hast lied! + Here with my battle before me, + God of the fighting Clan, + Grant that the woman who bore me + Suffered to suckle a Man! + + +_John G. Neihardt._ + +From "The Quest" (collected lyrics). + + + + +THE HAPPY HEART + + +One of our objects in life should be to find happiness, contentment. The +means of happiness are surprisingly simple. We need not be rich or +high-placed or powerful in order to be content. In fact the lowly are +often the best satisfied. Izaak Walton lived the simple life and thanked +God that there were so many things in the world of which he had no need. + + + Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers? + O sweet content! + Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplexed? + O punishment! + Dost thou laugh to see how fools are vexed + To add to golden numbers, golden numbers? + O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content! + Work apace, apace, apace, apace; + Honest labor bears a lovely face; + Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny! + + Canst drink the waters of the crisped spring? + O sweet content! + Swimm'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own tears? + O punishment! + Then he that patiently want's burden bears + No burden bears, but is a king, a king! + O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content! + Work apace, apace, apace, apace; + Honest labor bears a lovely face; + Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny! + + +_Thomas Dekker._ + + + + +IF YOU CAN'T GO OVER OR UNDER, GO ROUND + + +Often the straight road to the thing we desire is blocked. We should not +then weakly give over our purpose, but should set about attaining it by +some indirect method. A politician knows that one way of getting a man's +vote is to please the man's wife, and that one way of pleasing the wife +is to kiss her baby. + + + A baby mole got to feeling big, + And wanted to show how he could dig; + So he plowed along in the soft, warm dirt + Till he hit something hard, and it surely hurt! + A dozen stars flew out of his snout; + He sat on his haunches, began to pout; + Then rammed the thing again with his head-- + His grandpap picked him up half dead. + "Young man," he said, "though your pate is bone. + You can't butt your way through solid stone. + This bit of advice is good, I've found: + If you can't go over or under, go round." + + A traveler came to a stream one day, + And because it presumed to cross his way, + And wouldn't turn round to suit his whim + And change its course to go with him, + His anger rose far more than it should, + And he vowed he'd cross right where he stood. + A man said there was a bridge below, + But not a step would he budge or go. + The current was swift and the bank was steep, + But he jumped right in with a violent leap. + A fisherman dragged him out half-drowned: + "When you can't go over or under, go round." + + If you come to a place that you can't get _through,_ + Or _over_ or _under_, the thing to do + Is to find a way _round_ the impassable wall, + Not say you'll go YOUR way or not at all. + You can always get to the place you're going, + If you'll set your sails as the wind is blowing. + If the mountains are high, go round the valley; + If the streets are blocked, go up some alley; + If the parlor-car's filled, don't scorn a freight; + If the front door's closed, go in the side gate. + To reach your goal this advice is sound: + If you can't go over or under, go round! + + + _Joseph Morris._ + + + + +THICK IS THE DARKNESS + + +How many of us forget when the sun goes down that it will rise again! + + + Thick is the darkness-- + Sunward, O, sunward! + Rough is the highway-- + Onward, still onward! + + Dawn harbors surely + East of the shadows. + Facing us somewhere + Spread the sweet meadows. + + Upward and forward! + Time will restore us: + Light is above us, + Rest is before us. + + +_William Ernest Henley._ + + + + +THE BELLY AND THE MEMBERS + +(ADAPTED FROM "CORIOLANUS") + + +No doubt the world is cursed with grafters and parasites--men who live +off the body economic and give nothing substantial in return. But an +appearance of uselessness is not always proof of such. We should not +condemn men in ignorance. As old as Aesop is the fable of the rebellion +of the other members of the body against the idle unproductiveness of +the belly. In this passage the fable is used as an answer to the +plebeians of Rome who have complained that the patricians are merely an +encumbrance. + + + There was a time when all the body's members + Rebelled against the belly; thus accused it: + That only like a gulf it did remain + I' the midst o' the body, idle and unactive, + Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing + Like labor with the rest, where the other instruments + Did see and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel, + And, mutually participant, did minister + Unto the appetite and affection common + Of the whole body. Note me this, good friend; + Your most grave belly was deliberate, + Not rash like his accusers, and thus answered: + "True is it, my incorporate friends," quoth he, + "That I receive the general food at first, + Which you do live upon; and fit it is; + Because I am the store-house and the shop + Of the whole body: but, if you do remember, + I send it through the rivers of your blood, + Even to the court, the heart, to the seat o' the brain: + And, through the cranks and offices of man, + The strongest nerves and small inferior veins + From me receive that natural competency + Whereby they live. Though all at once cannot + See what I do deliver out to each, + Yet I can make my audit up, that all + From me do back receive the flour of all, + And leave me but the bran." What say you to 't? + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +THE CELESTIAL SURGEON + + +We may acquire the resolution to be happy by resting on a bed of roses. +If that fails us, we should try a bed of nettles. + + + If I have faltered more or less + In my great task of happiness; + If I have moved among my race + And shown no glorious morning face; + If beams from happy human eyes + Have moved me not; if morning skies, + Books, and my food, and summer rain + Knocked on my sullen heart in vain:-- + Lord, thy most pointed pleasure take + And stab my spirit broad awake; + Or, Lord, if too obdurate I, + Choose thou, before that spirit die, + A piercing pain, a killing sin, + And to my dead heart run them in! + + +_Robert Louis Stevenson._ + + + + +MAN, BIRD, AND GOD + + +Robert Bruce, despairing of his country's cause, was aroused to new hope +and purpose by the sight of a spider casting its lines until at last it +had one that held. In the following passage the poet, uncertain as to +his own future, yet trusts the providence which guides the birds in +their long and uncharted migrations. + + + I go to prove my soul! + I see my way as birds their trackless way. + I shall arrive! what time, what circuit first, + I ask not: but unless God send his hail + Or blinding fireballs, sleet or stifling snow, + In some time, his good time, I shall arrive: + He guides me and the bird. In his good time! + + +_Robert Browning._ + + + + +HIS ALLY + + +The thought of this poem is that a man's best helper may be that which +gives him no direct aid at all--a sense of humor. + + + He fought for his soul, and the stubborn fighting + Tried hard his strength. + "One needs seven souls for this long requiting," + He said at length. + + "Six times have I come where my first hope jeered me + And laughed me to scorn; + But now I fear as I never feared me + To fall forsworn. + + "God! when they fight upright and at me + I give them back + Even such blows as theirs that combat me; + But now, alack! + + "They fight with the wiles of fiends escaping + And underhand. + Six times, O God, and my wounds are gaping! + I--reel to stand. + + "Six battles' span! By this gasping breath + No pantomime. + Tis all that I can. I am sick unto death. + And--a seventh time? + + "This is beyond all battles' soreness!" + Then his wonder cried; + For Laughter, with shield and steely harness, + Stood up at his side! + + +_William Rose Benet,_ + +From "Merchants from Cathay." + + + + +SUBMISSION + + +There are times when the right thing to do is to submit. There are times +when the right thing is to strive, to fight. To put forth one's best +effort is itself a reward. But sometimes it brings a material reward +also. The frog that after falling into the churn found that it couldn't +jump out and wouldn't try, was drowned. The frog that kept leaping in +brave but seemingly hopeless endeavor at last churned the milk, mounted +the butter for a final effort, and escaped. + + + Submission? They have preached at that so long. + As though the head bowed down would right the wrong, + As though the folded hand, the coward heart + Were saintly signs of souls sublimely strong; + As though the man who acts the waiting part + And but submits, had little wings a-start. + But may I never reach that anguished plight + Where I at last grow weary of the fight. + + Submission: "Wrong of course must ever be + Because it ever was. 'Tis not for me + To seek a change; to strike the maiden blow. + 'Tis best to bow the head and not to see; + 'Tis best to dream, that we need never know + The truth. To turn our eyes away from woe." + Perhaps. But ah--I pray for keener sight, + And may I not grow weary of the fight. + + +_Miriam Teichner._ + + + + +A PRAYER + + +Garibaldi, the Italian patriot, said to his men: "I do not promise you +ease; I do not promise you comfort. I promise you hardship, weariness, +suffering; but I promise you victory." + + + I do not pray for peace, + Nor ask that on my path + The sounds of war shall shrill no more, + The way be clear of wrath. + But this I beg thee, Lord, + Steel Thou my heart with might, + And in the strife that men call life, + Grant me the strength to fight. + + I do not pray for arms, + Nor shield to cover me. + What though I stand with empty hand, + So it be valiantly! + Spare me the coward's fear-- + Questioning wrong or right: + Lord, among these mine enemies, + Grant me the strength to fight. + + I do not pray that Thou + Keep me from any wound, + Though I fall low from thrust and blow, + Forced fighting to the ground; + But give me wit to hide + My hurt from all men's sight, + And for my need the while I bleed, + Lord, grant me strength to fight. + + I do not pray that Thou + Shouldst grant me victory; + Enough to know that from my foe + I have no will to flee. + Beaten and bruised and banned, + Flung like a broken sword, + Grant me this thing for conquering-- + Let me die fighting, Lord! + + +_Theodosia Garrison._ + +From "The Earth Cry." + + + + +STABILITY + + +Whom do we wish for our friends and allies? On whom would we wish to +depend in a time of need? Those who are not the slaves of fortune, but +have made the most of both her buffets and her rewards. Those who +control their fears and rash impulses, and do not give way to sudden +emotion. Amid confusion and disaster men like these will stand, as +Jackson did at Bull Run, like a veritable stone wall. + + + Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice + And could of men distinguish, her election + Hath sealed thee for herself; for thou hast been + As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing, + A man that fortune's buffets and rewards + Hast ta'en with equal thanks; and bless'd are those + Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled + That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger + To sound what stop she please. Give me that man + That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him + In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, + As I do thee. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +THE BARS OF FATE + + +"There ain't no such beast," ejaculated a farmer as he gazed at the +rhinoceros at a circus. His incredulity did not of course do away with +the existence of the creature. But our incredulity about many of our +difficulties will do away with them. They exist chiefly in our +imaginations. + + + I stood before the bars of Fate + And bowed my head disconsolate; + So high they seemed, so fierce their frown. + I thought no hand could break them down. + + Beyond them I could hear the songs + Of valiant men who marched in throngs; + And joyful women, fair and free, + Looked back and waved their hands to me. + + I did not cry "Too late! too late!" + Or strive to rise, or rail at Fate, + Or pray to God. My coward heart, + Contented, played its foolish part. + + So still I sat, the tireless bee + Sped o'er my head, with scorn for me, + And birds who build their nests in air + Beheld me, as I were not there. + + From twig to twig, before my face, + The spiders wove their curious lace, + As they a curtain fine would see + Between the hindering bars and me. + + Then, sudden change! I heard the call + Of wind and wave and waterfall; + From heaven above and earth below + A clear command--"ARISE AND GO!" + + I upward sprang in all my strength, + And stretched my eager hands at length + To break the bars--no bars were there; + My fingers fell through empty air! + + +_Ellen M.H. Gates._ + +From "To the Unborn Peoples." + + + + +ULTIMATE ACT + + +It is well to have purposes we can carry out. It is also well to have +purposes so lofty that we cannot carry them out; for these latter are +the mighty inner fires which warm our being at its core and without +which our impulse to do even the lesser things would be feeble. + + + I had rather cut man's purpose deeper than + Achieving it be crowned as conqueror; + To will divinely is to accomplish more + Than a mere deed: it fills anew the wan + Aspect of life with blood; it draws upon + Sources beyond the common reach and lore + Of mortals, to replenish at its core + The God-impassioned energy of man. + And herewith all the worlds of deed and thought + Quicken again with meaning--pulse and thrill + With Deity--that had forgot His touch. + There is not any act avails so much + As this invisible wedding of the will + With Life--yea, though it seem to accomplish naught. + + +_Henry Bryan Binns._ + +From "The Free Spirit." + + + + +HE WHOM A DREAM HATH POSSESSED + + +The man possessed by a vision is not perplexed, troubled, restricted, as +the rest of us are. He wanders yet is not lost from home, sees a million +dawns yet never night descending, faces death and destruction and in +them finds triumph. + + + He whom a dream hath possessed knoweth no more of doubting, + For mist and the blowing of winds and the mouthing of words he scorns; + Not the sinuous speech of schools he hears, but a knightly shouting, + And never comes darkness down, yet he greeteth a million morns. + + He whom a dream hath possessed knoweth no more of roaming; + All roads and the flowing of waves and the speediest flight he knows, + But wherever his feet are set, his soul is forever homing, + And going, he comes, and coming he heareth a call and goes. + + He whom a dream hath possessed knoweth no more of sorrow, + At death and the dropping of leaves and the fading of suns he smiles, + For a dream remembers no past and scorns the desire of a morrow, + And a dream in a sea of doom sets surely the ultimate isles. + + He whom a dream hath possessed treads the impalpable marches, + From the dust of the day's long road he leaps to a laughing star, + And the ruin of worlds that fall he views from eternal arches, + And rides God's battlefield in a flashing and golden car. + + +_Sheamus O Sheel._ + +From "The Lyric Year." + + + + +SUCCESS + + +As necessity is the mother of invention, strong desire is the mother of +attainment. + + + If you want a thing bad enough + To go out and fight for it, + Work day and night for it, + Give up your time and your peace and your sleep for it + If only desire of it + Makes you quite mad enough + Never to tire of it, + Makes you hold all other things tawdry and cheap for it + If life seems all empty and useless without it + And all that you scheme and you dream is about it, + If gladly you'll sweat for it, + Fret for it, + Plan for it, + Lose all your terror of God or man for it, + If you'll simply go after that thing that you want, + With all your capacity, + Strength and sagacity, + Faith, hope and confidence, stern pertinacity, + If neither cold poverty, famished and gaunt, + Nor sickness nor pain + Of body or brain + Can turn you away from the thing that you want, + If dogged and grim you besiege and beset it, + _You'll get it!_ + + +_Berton Braley._ + +From "Things As They Are." + + + + +PLAY THE GAME + + +The Duke of Wellington said that the battle of Waterloo was won on the +cricket fields of Eton. English sport at its best is admirable; it asks +outward triumph if possible, but far more it asks that one do his best +till the very end and treat his opponent with courtesy and fairness. The +spirit thus instilled at school has again and again been carried in +after life into the large affairs of the nation. + + + There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night-- + Ten to make and the match to win-- + A bumping pitch and a blinding light, + An hour to play and the last man in. + And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat + Or the selfish hope of a season's fame, + But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote; + "Play up! Play up! And play the game!" + + The sand of the desert is sodden red-- + Red with the wreck of a square that broke; + The Gatling's jammed and the colonel dead, + And the regiment's blind with dust and smoke. + The river of death has brimmed his banks, + And England's far and Honor a name, + But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks, + "Play up! Play up! And play the game!" + + This is the word that year by year, + While in her place the School is set, + Every one of her sons must hear, + And none that hears it dare forget. + This they all with a joyful mind + Bear through life like a torch in flame, + And falling, fling to the host behind-- + "Play up! Play up! And play the game!" + + +_Henry Newbolt._ + +From "Admirals All, and Other Verses." + + + + +THE MAN WHO FRETS AT WORLDLY STRIFE + + +"Lord, what fools these mortals be!" exclaims Puck in _A Mid-summer +Night's Dream. _And well might the fairy marvel who sees folk vexing +themselves over matters that nine times out of ten come to nothing. Much +wiser is the man who smiles at misfortunes, even when they are real ones +and affect him personally. Charles Lamb once cheerfully helped to hiss +off the stage a play he himself had written. + + + The man who frets at worldly strife + Grows sallow, sour, and thin; + Give us the lad whose happy life + Is one perpetual grin: + He, Midas-like, turns all to gold-- + He smiles when others sigh, + Enjoys alike the hot and cold, + And laughs though wet or dry. + + There's fun in everything we meet,-- + The greatest, worst, and best; + Existence is a merry treat, + And every speech a jest: + + * * * * * + + So, come what may, the man's in luck + Who turns it all to glee, + And laughing, cries, with honest Puck, + "Good Lord! what fools ye be." + + +_Joseph Rodman Drake._ + + + + +SERENITY + + +Calmness of mind to face anything the future may have in store is +expressed in this quatrain. + + + Here's a sigh to those who love me + And a smile to those who hate; + And whatever sky's above me, + Here's a heart for every fate. + + +_Lord Byron._ + + + + +HERE'S HOPIN' + + +An optimist has been described as a man who orders oysters at a +restaurant and expects to find a pearl to pay the bill with. This of +course is not optimism, but brazen brainlessness. Yet somehow the pearls +come only to those who expect them. + + + Year ain't been the very best;-- + Purty hard by trouble pressed; + But the rough way leads to rest,-- + Here's hopin'! + + Maybe craps way short; the rills + Couldn't turn the silent mills; + But the light's behind the hills,-- + Here's hopin'! + + Where we planted roses sweet + Thorns come up an' pricked the feet; + But this old world's hard to beat,-- + Here's hopin'! + + P'r'aps the buildin' that we planned + 'Gainst the cyclone couldn't stand; + But, thank God we've got the _land_,-- + Here's hopin'! + + Maybe flowers we hoped to save + Have been scattered on a grave; + But the heart's still beatin' brave,-- + Here's hopin'! + + That we'll see the mornin' light-- + That the very darkest night + Can't hide heaven from our sight,-- + Here's hopin'! + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +From "The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +CLEON AND I + + +Toward the end of the yacht race in which the _America_ won her historic +cup the English monarch, who was one of the spectators, inquired: "Which +boat is first?" "The _America_ seems to be first, your majesty," replied +an aide. "And which is second?" asked the monarch. "Your majesty, there +seems to be no second." So it is in the race for happiness. The man who +is natural, who is open and kind of heart, is always first. The man who +is merely rich or sheltered or proud is not even a good second. + + + Cleon hath a million acres, ne'er a one have I; + Cleon dwelleth in a palace, in a cottage I; + Cleon hath a dozen fortunes, not a penny I; + Yet the poorer of the twain is Cleon, and not I. + + Cleon, true, possesses acres, but the landscape I; + Half the charm to me it yieldeth money can not buy, + Cleon harbors sloth and dullness, freshening vigor I; + He in velvet, I in fustian, richer man am I. + + Cleon is a slave to grandeur, free as thought am I; + Cleon fees a score of doctors, need of none have I; + Wealth-surrounded, care-environed, Cleon fears to die; + Death may come, he'll find me ready, happier man am I. + + Cleon sees no charm in nature, in a daisy I; + Cleon hears no anthems ringing in the sea and sky; + Nature sings to me forever, earnest listener I; + State for state, with all attendants, who would change? + Not I. + + +_Charles Mackay_. + + + + +THE PESSIMIST + + +Most of our ills and troubles are not very serious when we come to +examine the realities of them. Or perhaps we expect too much. An old +negro was complaining that the railroad would not pay him for his mule, +which it had killed--nay, would not even give him back his rope. "What +rope?" he was asked. "Why, sah," answered he, "de rope dat I tied de +mule on de track wif." + + + Nothing to do but work, + Nothing to eat but food, + Nothing to wear but clothes + To keep one from going nude. + + Nothing to breathe but air + Quick as a flash 'tis gone; + Nowhere to fall but off, + Nowhere to stand but on. + + Nothing to comb but hair, + Nowhere to sleep but in bed, + Nothing to weep but tears, + Nothing to bury but dead. + + Nothing to sing but songs, + Ah, well, alas! alack! + Nowhere to go but out, + Nowhere to come but back. + + Nothing to see but sights, + Nothing to quench but thirst, + Nothing to have but what we've got; + Thus thro' life we are cursed. + + Nothing to strike but a gait; + Everything moves that goes. + Nothing at all but common sense + Can ever withstand these woes. + + +_Ben King_. + +From "Ben King's Verse." + + + + +A PROBLEM TO BE SOLVED + + +There are irritating, troublesome people about us. Of what use is it to +be irritating in our turn or to add to the trouble? Most offenders have +their better side. Our wisest course is to find this and upon the basis +of it build up a better relationship. + + + There's a fellow in your office + Who complains and carps and whines + Till you'd almost do a favor + To his heirs and his assigns. + But I'll tip you to a secret + (And this chap's of course involved)-- + He's no foeman to be fought with; + He's a problem to be solved. + + There's a duffer in your district + Whose sheer cussedness is such + He has neither pride nor manners-- + No, nor gumption, overmuch. + 'Twould be great to up and tell him + Where to go. But be resolved-- + He's no foeman to be fought with, + Just a problem to be solved. + + This old earth's (I'm sometimes thinking) + One menagerie of freaks-- + Folks invested with abnormal + Lungs or brains or galls or beaks. + But we're not just shrieking monkeys + In a dim, vast cage revolved; + We're not foemen to be fought with, + Merely problems to be solved. + + +_St. Clair Adams_. + + + + +PROSPICE + + +Here the poet looks forward to death. He does not ask for an easy death; +he does not wish to creep past an experience which all men sooner or +later must face, and which many men have faced so heroically. He has +fought well in life; he wishes to make the last fight too. The poem was +written shortly after the death of Mrs. Browning, and the closing lines +refer to her. + + + Fear death?--to feel the fog in my throat, + The mist in my face, + When the snows begin, and the blasts denote + I am nearing the place, + The power of the night, the press of the storm, + The post of the foe; + Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form, + Yet the strong man must go: + For the journey is done and the summit attained, + And the barriers fall, + Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be gained, + The reward of it all. + I was ever a fighter, so--one fight more, + The best and the last! + I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forbore. + And bade me creep past. + No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers + The heroes of old, + Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears + Of pain, darkness and cold. + For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, + The black minute's at end, + And the elements' rage, the fiend-voices that rave, + Shall dwindle, shall blend, + Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain, + Then a light, then thy breast, + O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again, + And with God be the rest! + + +_Robert Browning_. + + + + +THE GREATNESS OF THE SOUL + + +Geologists tell us that in the long processes of the ages mountains have +been raised and leveled, continents formed and washed away. Astronomers +tell us that in space are countless worlds, many of them doubtless +inhabited--perhaps by creatures of a lower type than we, perhaps by +creatures of a higher. The magnitude of these changes and of these +worlds makes the imagination reel. But on one thing we can rely--the +greatness of the human soul. On one thing we can confidently build--the +men whose spirit is lofty, divine. + + + For tho' the Giant Ages heave the hill + And break the shore, and evermore + Make and break, and work their will; + Tho' world on world in myriad myriads roll + Round us, each with different powers, + And other forms of life than ours, + What know we greater than the soul? + On God and Godlike men we build our trust. + + + _Alfred Tennyson_. + + + + +HEINELET + + +What sheer perseverance can accomplish, even in matters of the heart, is +revealed in this little poem written in Heine's mood of mingled +seriousness and gayety. + + + He asked if she ever could love him. + She answered him, no, on the spot. + He asked if she ever could love him. + She assured him again she could not. + + He asked if she ever could love him. + She laughed till his blushes he hid. + He asked if she ever could love him. + By God, she admitted she did. + + +_Gamaliel Bradford_. + +From "Shadow Verses." + + + + +STAND FORTH! + + +The human spirit can triumph over difficulties, as flowers bloom along +the edge of the Alpine snow. + + + Stand forth, my soul, and grip thy woe, + Buckle the sword and face thy foe. + What right hast thou to be afraid + When all the universe will aid? + Ten thousand rally to thy name, + Horses and chariots of flame. + Do others fear? Do others fail? + _My soul must grapple and prevail_. + My soul must scale the mountainside + And with the conquering army ride-- + Stand forth, my soul! + + Stand forth, my soul, and take command. + 'Tis I, thy master, bid thee stand. + Claim thou thy ground and thrust thy foe, + Plead not thine enemy should go. + Let others cringe! My soul is free, + No hostile host can conquer me. + There lives no circumstance so great + Can make me yield, or doubt my fate. + My soul must know what kings have known. + Must reach and claim its rightful throne-- + Stand forth, my soul! + + I ask no truce, I have no qualms, + I seek no quarter and no alms. + Let those who will obey the sod, + My soul sprang from the living God. + 'Tis I, the king, who bid thee stand; + Grasp with thy hand my royal hand-- + Stand forth! + + +_Angela Morgan_. + +From "The Hour Has Struck." + + + + +[Illustration: WALT MASON] + + + + +LIONS AND ANTS + + + Once a hunter met a lion near the hungry critter's lair, and the + way that lion mauled him was decidedly unfair; but the hunter + never whimpered when the surgeons, with their thread, sewed up + forty-seven gashes in his mutilated head; and he showed the + scars in triumph, and they gave him pleasant fame, and he + always blessed the lion that had camped upon his frame. Once + that hunter, absent minded, sat upon a hill of ants, and about + a million bit him, and you should have seen him dance! And he + used up lots of language of a deep magenta tint, and + apostrophized the insects in a style unfit to print. And it's + thus with worldly troubles; when the big ones come along, we + serenely go to meet them, feeling valiant, bold and strong, but + the weary little worries with their poisoned stings and smarts, + put the lid upon our courage, make us gray, and break our + hearts. + + +_Walt Mason_. + +From "Walt Mason, His Book." + + + + +LIFE, NOT DEATH + + +Sometimes life is so unsatisfying that we think we should like to be rid +of it. But we really are not longing for death; we are longing for more +life. + + + Whatever crazy sorrow saith, + No life that breathes with human breath + Has ever truly longed for death. + + 'Tis life, whereof our nerves are scant, + Oh life, not death, for which we pant; + More life, and fuller, that I want. + + +_Alfred Tennyson_. + + + + +THE UNMUSICAL SOLOIST + + +In any sort of athletic contest a man who individually is good--perhaps +even of the very best--may be a poor member of the team because he +wishes to do all the playing himself and will not co-operate with his +fellows. Every coach knows how such a man hashes the game. The same +thing is true in business or in anything else where many people work +together; a really capable man often fails because he hogs the center of +the stage and wants to be the whole show. To seek petty, immediate +triumphs instead of earning and waiting for the big, silent approval of +one's own conscience and of those who understand, is a mark of +inferiority. It is also a barrier to usefulness, for an egotistical man +is necessarily selfish and a selfish man cannot co-operate. + + + Music hath charms--at least it should; + Even a homely voice sounds good + That sings a cheerful, gladsome song + That shortens the way, however long. + A screechy fife, a bass drum's beat + Is wonderful music to marching feet; + A scratchy fiddle or banjo's thump + May tickle the toes till they want to jump. + But one musician fills the air + With discords that jar folks everywhere. + A pity it is he ever was born-- + The discordant fellow who toots his own horn. + + He gets in the front where all can see-- + "Now turn the spot-light right on me," + He says, and sings in tones sonorous + His own sweet halleluiah chorus. + Refrain and verse are both the same-- + The pronoun I or his own name. + He trumpets his worth with such windy tooting + That louder it sounds than cowboys shooting. + This man's a nuisance wherever he goes, + For the world soon tires of the chap who blows. + Whether mighty in station or hoer of corn, + Unwelcome's the fellow who toots his own horn. + + The poorest woodchopper makes the most sound; + A poor cook clatters the most pans around; + The rattling spoke carries least of the load; + And jingling pennies pay little that's owed; + A rooster crows but lays no eggs; + A braggart blows but drives no pegs. + He works out of harmony with any team, + For others are skim milk and he is the cream. + "The world," so far as he can see, + "Consists of a few other folks and ME." + He richly deserves to be held in scorn-- + The ridiculous fellow who toots his own horn. + + +_Joseph Morris_. + + + + +ON DOWN THE ROAD + + +Hazlitt said that the defeat of the Whigs could be read in the shifting +and irresolute countenance of Charles James Fox, and the triumph of the +Tories in Pitt's "aspiring nose." The empires of the Montezumas are +conquered by men who, like Cortez, risk everything in the enterprise and +make retreat impossible by burning their ships behind them. + + + Hold to the course, though the storms are about you; + Stick to the road where the banner still flies; + Fate and his legions are ready to rout you-- + Give 'em both barrels--and aim for their eyes. + + Life's not a rose bed, a dream or a bubble, + A living in clover beneath cloudless skies; + And Fate hates a fighter who's looking for trouble, + So give 'im both barrels--and shoot for the eyes. + + Fame never comes to the loafers and sitters, + Life's full of knots in a shifting disguise; + Fate only picks on the cowards and quitters, + So give 'em both barrels--and aim for the eyes. + + +_Grantland Rice_. + +From "The Sportlight." + + + + +MEETIN' TROUBLE + + +Some students of biology planned a trick on their professor. They took +the head of one beetle, the body of another of a totally different +species, the wings of a third, the legs of a fourth. These members they +carefully pasted together. Then they asked the professor what kind of +bug the creature was. He answered promptly, "A humbug." Just such a +monstrosity is trouble--especially future trouble. Some things about it +are real, but the whole combined menace is only an illusion, not a thing +which actually exists at all. Face the trouble itself; give no heed to +that idea of it which invests it with a hundred dire calamities. + + + Trouble in the distance seems all-fired big-- + Sorter makes you shiver when you look at it a-comin'; + Makes you wanter edge aside, er hide, er take a swig + Of somethin' that is sure to set your worried head a-hummin'. + Trouble in the distance is a mighty skeery feller-- + But wait until it reaches you afore you start to beller! + + Trouble standin' in th' road and frownin' at you, black, + Makes you feel like takin' to the weeds along the way; + Wish to goodness you could turn and hump yerself straight back; + Know 'twill be awful when he gets you close at bay! + Trouble standin' in the road is bound to make you shy-- + But wait until it reaches you afore you start to cry! + + Trouble face to face with you ain't pleasant, but you'll find + That it ain't one-ha'f as big as fust it seemed to be; + Stand up straight and bluff it out! Say, "I gotter a mind + To shake my fist and skeer you off--you don't belong ter me!" + Trouble face to face with you? Though you mayn't feel gay, + Laugh at it as if you wuz--and it'll sneak away! + + +_Everard Jack Appleton_. + +From "The Quiet Courage." + + + + +PRESS ON + + +The spirit that has tamed this continent is the spirit which says, +"Press on." It appeals, not so much to men in the mass, as to +individuals. There is only one way for mankind to go forward. Each +individual must be determined that, come what will, he will never quail +or recede. + + + Press on! Surmount the rocky steps, + Climb boldly o'er the torrent's arch; + He fails alone who feebly creeps, + He wins who dares the hero's march. + Be thou a hero! Let thy might + Tramp on eternal snows its way, + And through the ebon walls of night + Hew down a passage unto day. + + Press on! If once and twice thy feet + Slip back and stumble, harder try; + From him who never dreads to meet + Danger and death they're sure to fly. + To coward ranks the bullet speeds, + While on their breasts who never quail, + Gleams, guardian of chivalric deeds, + Bright courage like a coat of mail. + + Press on! If Fortune play thee false + To-day, to-morrow she'll be true; + Whom now she sinks she now exalts, + Taking old gifts and granting new, + The wisdom of the present hour + Makes up the follies past and gone; + To weakness strength succeeds, and power + From frailty springs! Press on, press on! + + +_Park Benjamin_. + + + + +MY CREED + + +We all have a philosophy of life, whether or not we formulate it. Does +it end in self, or does it include our relations and our duties to our +fellows? General William Booth of the Salvation Army was once asked to +send a Christmas greeting to his forces throughout the world. His life +had been spent in unselfish service; over the cable he sent but one +word--OTHERS. + + + This is my creed: To do some good, + To bear my ills without complaining, + To press on as a brave man should + For honors that are worth the gaining; + To seek no profits where I may, + By winning them, bring grief to others; + To do some service day by day + In helping on my toiling brothers + + This is my creed: To close my eyes + To little faults of those around me; + To strive to be when each day dies + Some better than the morning found me; + To ask for no unearned applause, + To cross no river until I reach it; + To see the merit of the cause + Before I follow those who preach it. + + This is my creed: To try to shun + The sloughs in which the foolish wallow; + To lead where I may be the one + Whom weaker men should choose to follow. + To keep my standards always high, + To find my task and always do it; + This is my creed--I wish that I + Could learn to shape my action to it. + + +_S.E. Kiser._ + + + + +CO-OPERATION + + +"We must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately," +Benjamin Franklin is reported to have said at the signing of the +Declaration of Independence. + + + It ain't the guns nor armament, + Nor funds that they can pay, + But the close co-operation, + That makes them win the day. + + It ain't the individual, + Nor the army as a whole, + But the everlasting team-work + Of every bloomin' soul. + + +_J. Mason Knox_. + + + + +THE NOBLE NATURE + + +There is a deceptive glamour about mere bigness. Quality may accompany +quantity, but it need not. In fact good things are usually done up in +small parcels. "I could eat you at a mouthful," roared a bulky opponent +to the small and sickly Alexander H. Stephens. "If you did," replied +Stephens quietly, "you'd have more brains in your belly than ever you +had in your head." + + + It is not growing like a tree + In bulk, doth make Man better be; + Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, + To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere: + A lily of a day + Is fairer far in May, + Although it fall and die that night-- + It was the plant and flower of Light. + In small proportions we just beauties see; + And in short measures life may perfect be. + + +_Ben Jonson_. + + + + +DAYS OF CHEER + + +Edison says that genius is two parts inspiration, ninety-eight parts +perspiration. So happiness is two parts circumstance, ninety-eight parts +mental attitude. + + + "Feelin' fine," he used to say, + Come a clear or cloudy day, + Wave his hand, an' shed a smile, + Keepin' sunny all th' while. + Never let no bugbears grim + Git a wrastle-holt o' him, + Kep' a-smilin' rain or shine, + Tell you he was "feelin' fine!" + + "Feelin' fine," he used to say + Wave his hand an' go his way. + Never had no time to lose + So he said, fighting blues. + Had a twinkle in his eye + Always when a-goin' by, + Sort o' smile up into mine, + Tell me he was "feelin' fine!" + + "Feelin' fine," he'd allus say, + An' th' sunshine seemed to stay + Close by him, or else he shone + With some sunshine of his own. + Didn't seem no clouds could dim + Any happiness for him, + Allus seemed to have a line + Out f'r gladness--"feelin' fine!" + + "Feelin' fine," I've heard him say + Half a dozen times a day, + An' as many times I knowed + He was bearin' up a load. + But he never let no grim + Troubles git much holt on him, + Kep' his spirits jest like wine, + Bubblin' up an' "feelin' fine!" + + "Feelin' fine"--I hope he'll stay + All his three score that-a-way, + Lettin' his demeanor be + Sech as you could have or me + Ef we tried, an' went along + Spillin' little drops o' song, + Lettin' rosebuds sort o' twine + O'er th' thorns and "feelin' fine." + + +_James W. Foley_. + +From "Tales of the Trail." + + + + + +DE SUNFLOWER AIN'T DE DAISY + + +"Know yourself," said the Greeks. "Be yourself," bade Marcus Aurelius. +"Give yourself," taught the Master. Though the third precept is the +noblest, the first and second are admirable also. The second is violated +on all hands. Yet to be what nature planned us--to develop our own +natural selves--is better than to copy those who are wittier or wiser or +otherwise better endowed than we. Genuineness should always be preferred +to imitation. + + + De sunflower ain't de daisy, and de melon ain't de rose; + Why is dey all so crazy to be sumfin else dat grows? + Jess stick to de place yo're planted, and do de bes yo knows; + Be de sunflower or de daisy, de melon or de rose. + Don't be what yo ain't, jess yo be what yo is, + If yo am not what yo are den yo is not what you is, + If yo're jess a little tadpole, don't yo try to be de frog; + If yo are de tail, don't yo try to wag de dawg. + Pass de plate if yo can't exhawt and preach; + If yo're jess a little pebble, don't yo try to be de beach; + When a man is what he isn't, den he isn't what he is, + An' as sure as I'm talking, he's a-gwine to get his. + + +_Anonymous_. + + + + +THE DAFFODILS + + +The poet in lonely mood came suddenly upon a host of daffodils and was +thrilled by their joyous beauty. But delightful as the immediate scene +was, it was by no means the best part of his experience. For long +afterwards, when he least expected it, memory brought back the flowers +to the eye of his spirit, filled his solitary moments with thoughts of +past happiness, and took him once more (so to speak) into the free open +air and the sunshine. Just so for us the memory of happy sights we have +seen comes back again to bring us pleasure. + + + I wander'd lonely as a cloud + That floats on high o'er vales and hills, + When all at once I saw a crowd, + A host of golden daffodils, + Beside the lake, beneath the trees, + Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. + + Continuous as the stars that shine + And twinkle on the milky way, + They stretch'd in never-ending line + Along the margin of a bay: + Ten thousand saw I at a glance + Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. + + The waves beside them danced, but they + Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:-- + A Poet could not but be gay + In such a jocund company! + I gazed--and gazed--but little thought + What wealth the show to me had brought; + + For oft, when on my couch I lie + In vacant or in pensive mood, + They flash upon that inward eye + Which is the bliss of solitude; + And then my heart with pleasure fills, + And dances with the daffodils. + + +_William Wordsworth._ + + + +[Illustration: FRANK L. STANTON] + + + + +A LITTLE THANKFUL SONG + + +No man is without a reason to be thankful. If he lacks gratitude, the +fault lies at least partly with himself. + + + For what are we thankful for? For this: + For the breath and the sunlight of life + For the love of the child, and the kiss + On the lips of the mother and wife. + For roses entwining, + For bud and for bloom, + And hopes that are shining + Like stars in the gloom. + + For what are we thankful for? For this: + The strength and the patience of toil; + For ever the dreams that are bliss-- + The hope of the seed in the soil. + For souls that are whiter + From day unto day; + And lives that are brighter + From going God's way. + + For what are we thankful for? For all: + The sunlight--the shadow--the song; + The blossoms may wither and fall, + But the world moves in music along! + For simple, sweet living, + (Tis love that doth teach it) + A heaven forgiving + And faith that can reach it! + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +From "The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +TWO RAINDROPS + +(A FABLE) + + +An egotist is not only selfish; he is usually ridiculous as well, for he +sets us to wondering as to any possible ground for his exalted opinion +of himself. The real workers do not emphasize their superiority to other +people, do not even emphasize the differences, but are grateful that +they may share in humanity's privilege of rendering service. + + + Two little raindrops were born in a shower, + And one was so pompously proud of his power, + He got in his head an extravagant notion + He'd hustle right off and swallow the ocean. + A blade of grass that grew by the brook + Called for a drink, but no notice he took + Of such trifling things. He must hurry to be + Not a mere raindrop, but the whole sea. + A stranded ship needed water to float, + But he could not bother to help a boat. + He leaped in the sea with a puff and a blare-- + And nobody even knew he was there! + + But the other drop as along it went + Found the work to do for which it was sent: + It refreshed the lily that drooped its head, + And bathed the grass that was almost dead. + It got under the ships and helped them along, + And all the while sang a cheerful song. + It worked every step of the way it went, + Bringing joy to others, to itself content. + At last it came to its journey's end, + And welcomed the sea as an old-time friend. + "An ocean," it said, "there could not be + Except for the millions of drops like me." + + +_Joseph Morris,_ + + + + +MY WAGE + + +We may as well aim high as low, ask much as little. The world will not +miss what it gives us, and our reward will largely be governed by our +demands. + + + I bargained with Life for a penny, + And Life would pay no more, + However I begged at evening + When I counted my scanty store; + + For Life is a just employer, + He gives you what you ask, + But once you have set the wages, + Why, you must bear the task. + + I worked for a menial's hire, + Only to learn, dismayed, + That any wage I had asked of Life, + Life would have paid. + + +_Jessie B. Rittenhouse._ + +From "The Door of Dreams." + + + + + +THE GIFT + + +"Trust thyself," says Emerson; "every heart vibrates to that iron +string." This is wholesome and inspiring advice, but there is, as always, +another side to the question. Many a man falls into absurdities and +mistakes because he cannot get outside of himself and look at himself +from other people's eyes. We should cultivate the ability to see +everything, including ourselves, from more than one standpoint. + + + O wad some Pow'r the giftie gie us + To see oursels as ithers see us! + It wad frae mony a blunder free us, + And foolish notion; + What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, + And ev'n devotion! + + +_Robert Burns._ + + + + +PROMETHEUS UNBOUND + + +In the poem from which this excerpt is taken, Prometheus the Titan has +been cruelly tortured for opposing the malignant will of Jupiter. In the +end Prometheus wins a complete outward victory. Better still, by his +steadfastness and high purpose he has won a great inward triumph. The +spirit that has actuated him and the nature of his achievement are +expressed in the following lines. + + + To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite; + To forgive wrongs darker than death or night; + To defy Power, which seems omnipotent; + To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates + From its own wreck the thing it contemplates; + Neither to change, nor falter, nor repent; + This, like thy glory, Titan, is to be + Good, great and joyous, beautiful and free; + This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory. + + +_Percy Bysshe Shelley._ + + + + +VICTORY IN DEFEAT + + +The great, radiant souls of earth--the Davids, the Shakespeares, the +Lincolns--know grief and affliction as well as joy and triumph. But +adversity is never to them mere adversity; it + + "Doth suffer a sea-change + Into something rich and strange"; + +and in the crucible of character their suffering itself is transmuted +into song. + + + Defeat may serve as well as victory + To shake the soul and let the glory out. + When the great oak is straining in the wind, + The boughs drink in new beauty, and the trunk + Sends down a deeper root on the windward side. + Only the soul that knows the mighty grief + Can know the mighty rapture. Sorrows come + To stretch out spaces in the heart for joy. + + +_Edwin Markham._ + +From "The Shoes of Happiness, and Other Poems." + + + + +THE RICHER MINES + + +No man is so poor but that he is a stockholder. Yet many a man has no +real riches; his stocks draw dividends in dollars and cents only. + + + When it comes to buying shares + In the mines of earth, + May I join the millionaires + Who are rich in mirth. + + Let me have a heavy stake + In fresh mountain air-- + I will promise now to take + All that you can spare. + + When you're setting up your claim + In the Mines of Glee, + Don't forget to use my name-- + You can count on me. + + Nothing better can be won, + Freer from alloy, + Than a bouncing claim in "Con- + Solidated Joy." + + You can have your Copper Stocks + Gold and tin and coal-- + What I'd have within my box + Has to do with Soul. + +_John Kendrick Bangs._ + +From "Songs of Cheer." + + + + +BRAVE LIFE + + +To be absolutely without physical fear may not be the highest courage; +to shrink and quake, and yet stand at one's post, may be braver still. +So of success. It lies less in the attainment of some external end than +in holding yourself to your purposes and ideals; for out of high loyalty +and effort comes that intangible thing called character, which is no +mere symbol of success, but success itself. + + + I do not know what I shall find on out beyond the final fight; + I do not know what I shall meet beyond the last barrage of night; + Nor do I care--but this I know--if I but serve within the fold + And play the game--I'll be prepared for all the endless years may hold. + + Life is a training camp at best for what may wait beyond the years; + A training camp of toiling days and nights that lean to dreams and tears; + But each may come upon the goal, and build his soul above all Fate + By holding an unbroken faith and taking Courage for a mate. + + Is not the fight itself enough that man must look to some behest? + Wherein does Failure miss Success if all engaged but do their best? + Where does the Victor's cry come in for wreath of fame or laureled brow + If one he vanquished fought as well as weaker muscle would allow? + + If my opponent in the fray should prove to be a stronger foe-- + Not of his making--but because the Destinies ordained it so; + If he should win--and I should lose--although I did my utmost part, + Is my reward the less than his if he should strive with equal heart? + + Brave Life, I hold, is something more than driving upward to the peak; + Than smashing madly through the strong, and crashing onward through the + weak; + I hold the man who makes his fight against the raw game's crushing odds + Is braver than his brothers are who hold the favor of the gods. + + On by the sky line, faint and vague, in that Far Country all must know, + No laurel crown of fame may wait beyond the sunset's glow; + But life has given me the chance to train and serve within the fold, + To meet the test--and be prepared for all the endless years may hold. + + +_Grantland Rice._ + +From "The Sportlight." + + + + +A SONG OF TO-MORROW + + +A night's sleep and a new day--these are excellent things to look +forward to when one is weary or in trouble. + + + Li'l bit er trouble, + Honey, fer terday; + Yander come Termorrer-- + Shine it all away! + + Rainy Sky is sayin', + "Dis'll never do! + Fetch dem rainbow ribbons, + En I'll dress in blue!" + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +From "The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +THE GLAD SONG + + +Gladness begins with the first person, with you. But it may spread far, +like the ripples when you toss a stone in the water. + + + Sing a song, sing a song, + Ring the glad-bells all along; + Smile at him who frowns at you, + He will smile and then they're two. + + Laugh a bit, laugh a bit, + Folks will soon be catching it, + Can't resist a happy face; + World will be a merry place. + + Laugh a Bit and Sing a Song, + Where they are there's nothing wrong; + Joy will dance the whole world through, + But it must begin with you. + + +_Joseph Morris._ + + + + +PAINTING THE LILY + + +Many people are not content to let well enough alone, but spoil what +they have by striving for an unnecessary and foolish improvement. If +they have a rich title, they try to ornament it still further; if they +have refined gold, they try to gild it; if they have a lily, they try to +paint it into still purer color. + + + Therefore, to be possessed with double pomp, + To guard a title that was rich before, + To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, + To throw a perfume on the violet, + To smooth the ice, or add another hue + Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light + To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, + Is wasteful and ridiculous excess. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +A PRETTY GOOD WORLD + + +The world has its faults, but few of us would give it up till we have +to. + + + Pretty good world if you take it all round-- + Pretty good world, good people! + Better be on than under the ground-- + Pretty good world, good people! + Better be here where the skies are as blue + As the eyes of your sweetheart a-smilin' at you-- + Better than lyin' 'neath daisies and dew-- + Pretty good world, good people! + + Pretty good world with its hopes and its fears-- + Pretty good world, good people! + Sun twinkles bright through the rain of its tears-- + Pretty good world, good people! + Better be here, in the pathway you know-- + Where the thorn's in the garden where sweet roses grow, + Than to rest where you feel not the fall o' the snow-- + Pretty good world, good people! + + Pretty good world! Let us sing it that way-- + Pretty good world, good people! + Make up your mind that you're in it to stay-- + At least for a season, good people! + Pretty good world, with its dark and its bright-- + Pretty good world, with its love and its light; + Sing it that way till you whisper, "Good-night!"-- + Pretty good world, good people! + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +From "The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +ODE TO DUTY + + +In the first stanza the poet hails duty as coming from God. It is a +light to guide us and a rod to check. To obey it does not lead to +victory; to obey it _is_ victory--is to live by a high, noble law. In +the second stanza he admits that some people do right without driving +themselves to it--do it by instinct and "the genial sense of youth." In +stanza 3 he looks forward to a time when all people will be thus +blessed, but he thinks that as yet it is unsafe for most of us to lose +touch completely with stern, commanding duty. In stanzas 4 and 5 he +states that he himself has been too impatient of control, has wearied +himself by changing from one desire to another, and now wishes to +regulate his life by some great abiding principle. In stanza 6 he +declares that duty, though stern, is benignant; the flowers bloom in +obedience to it, and the stars keep their places. In the final stanza he +dedicates his life to its service. + + + Stern Daughter of the Voice of God! + O Duty! if that name thou love + Who art a light to guide, a rod + To check the erring, and reprove; + Thou who art victory and law + When empty terrors overawe; + From vain temptations dost set free, + And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity! + + There are who ask not if thine eye + Be on them; who, in love and truth + Where no misgiving is, rely + Upon the genial sense of youth: + Glad hearts! without reproach or blot, + Who do thy work, and know it not: + Oh! if through confidence misplaced + They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power! around them cast. + + Serene will be our days and bright + And happy will our nature be + When love is an unerring light, + And joy its own security. + And they a blissful course may hold + Ev'n now, who, not unwisely bold, + Live in the spirit of this creed; + Yet seek thy firm support, according to their need. + + I, loving freedom, and untried, + No sport of every random gust, + Yet being to myself a guide, + Too blindly have reposed my trust: + And oft, when in my heart was heard + Thy timely mandate, I deferr'd + The task, in smoother walks to stray; + But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may. + + Through no disturbance of my soul + Or strong compunction in me wrought, + I supplicate for thy control, + But in the quietness of thought: + Me this uncharter'd freedom tires; + I feel the weight of chance-desires: + My hopes no more must change their name; + I long for a repose that ever is the same. + + Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear + The Godhead's most benignant grace, + Nor know we anything so fair + As is the smile upon thy face; + Flowers laugh before thee on their beds, + And fragrance in thy footing treads; + Thou dost preserve the Stars from wrong; + And the most ancient Heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong. + + To humbler functions, awful Power! + I call thee: I myself commend + Unto thy guidance from this hour; + Oh let my weakness have an end! + Give unto me, made lowly wise, + The spirit of self-sacrifice; + The confidence of reason give; + And in the light of truth thy Bondman let me live. + + +_William Wordsworth._ + + + + +THE SYNDICATED SMILE + + +A ready and sincere friendliness is the one thing we can show to every +human being, whether we know him or not. The world is full of perplexed +and lonely people whom even a smile or a kind look will help. Yet that +which is so easy to give we too often reserve for a few, and those +perhaps the least appreciative. + + + I knew a girl who had a beau + And his name wasn't Adams-- + No child of hers would ever call + The present writer "daddums." + I didn't love the girl, but still + I found her most beguiling; + And so did all the other chaps-- + She did it with her smiling. + "I'm not a one-man girl," she said-- + "Of smiles my beau first took his; + But some are left; I'll syndicate + And pass them round like cookies." + + That syndicated smile! + When trouble seemed the most in style, + It heartened us-- + That indicated, + Syndicated + Smile. + + It's not enough to please your boss + Or fawn round folks with bankrolls; + Be just as friendly to the guys + Whose homespun round their shank rolls. + The best investment in the world + Is goodwill, twenty carat; + It costs you nothing, brings returns; + So get yours out and air it. + A niggard of good nature cheats + Himself and wrongs his fellows. + You'd serve mankind? Then be less close + With friendly nods and helloes. + + The syndicated smile! + If you have kept it all the while, + You've vindicated + The indicated, + Syndicated + Smile. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +FAIRY SONG + + +The great beneficent forces of life are not exhausted when once used, +but are recurrent. The sun rises afresh each new day. Once a year the +springtime returns and "God renews His ancient rapture." So it is with +our joys. They do not stay by us constantly; they pass from us and are +gone; but we need not trouble ourselves--they are sure to come back. + + + Shed no tear! O shed no tear! + The flower will bloom another year. + Weep no more! O weep no more! + Young buds sleep in the root's white core. + Dry your eyes! O dry your eyes, + For I was taught in Paradise + To ease my breast of melodies-- + Shed no tear. + + Overhead! look overhead, + 'Mong the blossoms white and red-- + Look up, look up--I flutter now + On this flush pomegranate bough. + See me! 'tis this silvery bill + Ever cures the good man's ill. + Shed no tear! O shed no tear! + The flowers will bloom another year. + Adieu, adieu--I fly, adieu, + I vanish in the heaven's blue-- + Adieu, adieu! + + +_John Keats._ + + + + +PRAISE THE GENEROUS GODS FOR GIVING + + +Some of us find joy in toil, some in art, some in the open air and the +sunshine. All of us find it in simply being alive. Life is the gift no +creature in his right mind would part with. As Milton asks, + + "For who would lose, + Though full of pain, this intellectual being, + These thoughts that wander through eternity, + To perish rather, swallowed up and lost + In the wide womb of uncreated night, + Devoid of sense and motion?" + + + Praise the generous gods for giving + In a world of wrath and strife, + With a little time for living, + Unto all the joy of life. + + At whatever source we drink it, + Art or love or faith or wine, + In whatever terms we think it, + It is common and divine. + + Praise the high gods, for in giving + This to man, and this alone, + They have made his chance of living + Shine the equal of their own. + + +_William Ernest Henley._ + + + + +COWARDS + + +We might as well accept the inevitable as the inevitable. There is no +escaping death or taxes. + + + Cowards die many times before their deaths: + The valiant never taste of death but once. + Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, + It seems to me most strange that men should fear; + Seeing that death, a necessary end, + Will come, when it will come. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +THE WORD + + +The Cumaean sibyl offered Tarquin the Proud nine books for what seemed +an exorbitant sum. He refused. She burned three of the books, and placed +the same price on the six as on the original nine. Again he refused. She +burned three more books, and offered the remainder for the sum she first +named. This time Tarquin accepted. The books were found to contain +prophecies and invaluable directions regarding Roman policy, but alas, +they were no longer complete. So it is with joy. To take it now is to +get it in its entirety. To defer until some other occasion is to get +less of it--at the same cost. + + + Today, whatever may annoy, + The word for it is Joy, just simple joy: + The joy of life; + The joy of children and of wife; + The joy of bright blue skies; + The joy of rain; the glad surprise + Of twinkling stars that shine at night; + The joy of winged things upon their flight; + The joy of noonday, and the tried, + True joyousness of eventide; + The joy of labor and of mirth; + The joy of air, and sea, and earth-- + The countless joys that ever flow from Him + Whose vast beneficence doth dim + The lustrous light of day, + And lavish gifts divine upon our way. + Whatever there be of Sorrow + I'll put off till To-morrow, + And when To-morrow comes, why, then + 'Twill be To-day, and Joy again! + + +_John Kendrick Bangs._ + +From "The Atlantic Monthly." + + + + +ENVOI + + +Franklin K. Lane stipulated that when he died his body should be +cremated and the ashes scattered from El Capitan over the beautiful +Yosemite Valley. He thus symbolized what many of us feel--the unity of +our deeper and finer selves with the eternal life and loveliness of +nature. + + + Oh seek me not within a tomb; + Thou shalt not find me in the clay! + I pierce a little wall of gloom + To mingle with the Day! + + I brothered with the things that pass, + Poor giddy Joy and puckered Grief; + I go to brother with the Grass + And with the sunning Leaf. + + Not Death can sheathe me in a shroud; + A joy-sword whetted keen with pain, + I join the armies of the Cloud + The Lightning and the Rain. + + Oh subtle in the sap athrill, + Athletic in the glad uplift, + A portion of the Cosmic Will, + I pierce the planet-drift. + + My God and I shall interknit + As rain and Ocean, breath and Air; + And oh, the luring thought of it + Is prayer! + + +_John G. Neihardt_ + +From "The Quest" (collected lyrics). + + + + +JAW + + +We all like a firm, straightforward chin provided it is not ruled by a +wagging, gossiping tongue. + + + This fellow's jaw is built so frail + That you could break it like a weed; + That fellow's chin retreats until + You'd think it in a wild stampede. + Defects like these but show how soon + The purpose droops, the spirits flag-- + We like a jaw that's made of steel, + Just so it's not inclined to wag. + + The lower jaw should be as strong + And changeless as a granite cliff; + Its very look should be a _thus_ + And not a _maybe, somehow, if;_ + Should mark a soul so resolute + It will not fear or cease or lag-- + We need a rugged mandible, + Provided we don't let it wag. + + Yes, with endurance, let it too + A tender modesty possess; + And to its grim strength let it add + The gracious power of gentleness. + Above all, let its might of deeds + Induce no loud or vulgar brag-- + We like to see a good, firm jaw, + But do not wish to hear it wag. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +THE CONQUEROR + + +Age is wise; it attempts nothing impossible. Youth is wiser; it believes +nothing impossible. Age conserves more; youth accomplishes more. Between +the two is an irreconcilable difference. + + "Crabbed age and youth + Cannot live together," + +as Shakespeare says. And the sympathy of the world is with youth. It is +better so; for though many cherished things would be saved from +sacrifice if rash immaturity were more often checked, progress would be +stayed if life were dominated by sterile and repressive age. + + + Room for me, graybeards, room, make room! + Menace me not with your eyes of gloom; + Jostle me not from the place I seek, + For my arms are strong and your own are weak, + And if my plea to you be denied + I'll thrust your wearying forms aside. + Pity you? Yes, but I cannot stay; + I am the spirit of Youth; make way! + + Room for me, timid ones, room, make room! + Little I care for your fret and fume-- + I laugh at sorrow and jeer defeat; + To doubt and doubters I give the lie, + And fear is stilled as I swagger by, + And life's a fight and I seek the fray; + I am the spirit of Youth; make way! + + Room for me, mighty ones, room, make room! + I fear no power and dread no doom; + And you who curse me and you who bless + Alike must bow to my dauntlessness. + I topple the king from his golden throne, + I smash old idols of brass and stone, + I am not hampered by yesterday. + Room for the spirit of Youth; make way! + + Room for me, all of you, make me room! + Where the rifles clash and the cannon boom, + Where glory beckons or love or fame + I plunge me heedlessly in the game. + The old, the wary, the wise, the great, + They cannot stay me, for I am Fate, + The brave young master of all good play, + I am the spirit of Youth; make way! + + +_Berton Braley._ + +From "Things As They Are." + + + +[Illustration: BERTON BRALEY] + + + + +IS IT RAINING, LITTLE FLOWER? + + +"Sweet are the uses of adversity." They bring us benefits not otherwise +to be had. To mope because of them is foolish. Showers alternate with +sunshine, sorrows with pleasure, pain and weariness with comfort and +rest; but accept the one as necessary to the other, and you will enjoy +both. + + + Is it raining, little flower? + Be glad of rain. + Too much sun would wither thee, + 'Twill shine again. + The sky is very black, 'tis true, + But just behind it shines + The blue. + + Art thou weary, tender heart? + Be glad of pain; + In sorrow the sweetest things will grow + As flowers in the rain. + God watches and thou wilt have sun + When clouds their perfect work + Have done. + + +_Anonymous_. + + + + +GRADATIM + + +In the old fable the tortoise won the race from the hare, not by a +single burst of speed, but by plodding on steadily, tirelessly. In the +Civil War it was found that Lee's army could not be overwhelmed in a +single battle, but one Federal general perceived that it could be worn +down by time and the pressure of numbers. "I propose," said Grant, "to +fight it out on this line if it takes all summer." It took more than a +summer; it took nearly a year--but he did it. In the moral realm +likewise, "All things excellent are as difficult as they are rare." +Character is not attained over-night. The only way to develop moral +muscles is to exercise them patiently and long. + + + Heaven is not reached at a single bound; + But we build the ladder by which we rise + From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, + And we mount to its summit, round by round. + + I count this thing to be grandly true: + That a noble deed is a step towards God,-- + Lifting the soul from the common clod + To a purer air and a broader view. + + We rise by the things that are under feet; + By what we have mastered of good and gain; + By the pride deposed and the passion slain, + And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet. + + We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we trust, + When the morning calls us to life and light, + But our hearts grow weary, and, ere the night, + Our lives are trailing the sordid dust. + + We hope, we resolve, we aspire, we pray, + And we think that we mount the air on wings + Beyond the recall of sensual things, + While our feet still cling to the heavy clay. + + Wings for the angels, but feet for men! + We may borrow the wings to find the way-- + We may hope, and resolve, and aspire, and pray; + But our feet must rise, or we fall again. + + Only in dreams is a ladder thrown + From the weary earth to the sapphire walls; + But the dreams depart, and the vision falls, + And the sleeper wakes on his pillow of stone. + + Heaven is not reached at a single bound; + But we build the ladder by which we rise + From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, + And we mount to its summit, round by round. + + +_J.G. Holland._ + +From "Complete Poetical Writings." + + + + +RULES FOR THE ROAD + + +Ardor of sinew and spirit--what else do we need to make our journey +prosperous and happy? + + + Stand straight: + Step firmly, throw your weight: + The heaven is high above your head, + The good gray road is faithful to your tread. + + Be strong: + Sing to your heart a battle song: + Though hidden foemen lie in wait, + Something is in you that can smile at Fate. + + Press through: + Nothing can harm if you are true. + And when the night comes, rest: + The earth is friendly as a mother's breast. + + +_Edwin Markham._ + +From "The Gates of Paradise, and Other Poems." + + + + +LIFE + + +"What is life?" we ask. "Just one darned thing after another," the cynic +replies. Yes, a multiplicity of forces and interests, and each of them, +even the disagreeable, may be of real help to us. It's good for a dog, +says a shrewd philosopher, to be pestered with fleas; it keeps him from +thinking too much about being a dog. + + + What's life? A story or a song; + A race on any track; + A gay adventure, short or long, + A puzzling nut to crack; + A grinding task; a pleasant stroll; + A climb; a slide down hill; + A constant striving for a goal; + A cake; a bitter pill; + A pit where fortune flouts or stings; + A playground full of fun;-- + With many any of these things; + With others all in one. + What's life? To love the things we see; + The hills that touch the skies; + The smiling sea; the laughing lea; + The light in woman's eyes; + To work and love the work we do; + To play a game that's square; + To grin a bit when feeling blue; + With friends our joys to share; + To smile, though games be lost or won; + To earn our daily bread;-- + And when at last the day is done + To tumble into bed. + + +_Griffith Alexander,_ + +From "The Philadelphia Evening Public Ledger." + + + + +HOE YOUR ROW + + +We must not dream of harvests and neglect the toil that produces them. + + + De fiel's 'll soon be hummin' + Roun' de country high en low; + De harves' is a-comin': + Hoe yo' row! + Hoe yo' row! + + No time now fer de sleeper; + It's "Git up now, en go!" + It's de sower makes de reaper; + Hoe yo' row! + Hoe yo' row! + + It's sweet de birds is singin' + De songs you lovin' so; + But de harves' bells is ringin'; + Hoe yo' row! + Hoe yo' row! + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +From "The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +BORROWING TROUBLE + + +It is bad enough to cry over spilt milk. But many of us do worse; we cry +over milk that we think is going to be spilt. In line 1 sic=such; 2, +a'=all; 3, nae=no; 4, enow=enough; 5, hae=have; sturt=fret, trouble. + + + But human bodies are sic fools, + For a' their colleges an' schools, + That when nae real ills perplex them, + They mak enow themsels to vex them; + An' ay the less they hae to sturt them, + In like proportion less will hurt them. + + +_Robert Burns_ + + + + +UNDISMAYED + + +A convict explained to a visitor why he had been sent to the +penitentiary. "They can't put you in here for that!" the visitor +exclaimed. "They did," replied the convict. So smiling seems a futile +thing. Apparently it cannot get us anywhere--but it does. + + + He came up smilin'--used to say + He made his fortune that-a-way; + He had hard luck a-plenty, too, + But settled down an' fought her through; + An' every time he got a jolt + He jist took on a tighter holt, + Slipped back some when he tried to climb + But came up smilin' every time. + + He came up smilin'--used to git + His share o' knocks, but he had grit, + An' if they hurt he didn't set + Around th' grocery store an' fret. + He jist grabbed Fortune by th' hair + An' hung on till he got his share. + He had th' grit in him to stay + An' come up smilin' every day. + + He jist gripped hard an' all alone + Like a set bull-pup with a bone, + An' if he got shook loose, why then + He got up an' grabbed holt again. + He didn't have no time, he'd say, + To bother about yesterday, + An' when there was a prize to win + He came up smilin' an' pitched in. + + He came up smilin'--good fer him! + He had th' grit an' pluck an' vim, + So he's on Easy Street, an' durned + If I don't think his luck is earned! + No matter if he lost sometimes, + He's got th' stuff in him that climbs, + An' when his chance was mighty slim, + He came up smilin'--good fer him! + + +_James W. Foley._ + +From "Tales of the Trail." + + + + +A HERO + + +If defeat strengthens and sweetens character, it is not defeat at all, +but victory. + + + He sang of joy; whate'er he knew of sadness + He kept for his own heart's peculiar share: + So well he sang, the world imagined gladness + To be sole tenant there. + + For dreams were his, and in the dawn's fair shining, + His spirit soared beyond the mounting lark; + But from his lips no accent of repining + Fell when the days grew dark; + + And though contending long dread Fate to master, + He failed at last her enmity to cheat, + He turned with such a smile to face disaster + That he sublimed defeat. + + +_Florence Earle Coates._ + +From "Poems." + + + + +WILL + + +"I can resist anything but temptation," says a character in one of Oscar +Wilde's plays. Too many of us have exactly this strength of will. We +perhaps do not fall into gross crime, but because of our flabby +resolution our lives become purposeless, negative, negligible. No one +would miss us in particular if we were out of the way. + + + I + + O well for him whose will is strong! + He suffers, but he will not suffer long; + He suffers, but he cannot suffer wrong. + For him nor moves the loud world's random mock; + Nor all Calamity's hugest waves confound, + Who seems a promontory of rock, + That, compass'd round with turbulent sound, + In middle ocean meets the surging shock, + Tempest-buffeted, citadel-crown'd. + + + II + + But ill for him who, bettering not with time, + Corrupts the strength of heaven-descended Will, + And ever weaker grows thro' acted crime, + Or seeming-genial venial fault, + Recurring and suggesting still! + He seems as one whose footsteps halt, + Toiling in immeasurable sand, + And o'er a weary sultry land, + Far beneath a blazing vault, + Sown in a wrinkle of the monstrous hill + The city sparkles like a grain of salt. + + +_Alfred Tennyson._ + + + + +[Illustration: EVERARD JACK APPLETON] + + + + +FABLE + + +To be impressed by a thing merely because it is big is a human failing. +Yet our standard of judgment would be truer if we considered, instead, +the success of that thing in performing its own particular task. And +quality is better than quantity. The lioness in the old fable was being +taunted because she bore only one offspring at a time, not a numerous +litter. "It is true," she admitted; "but that one is a lion." + + + The mountain and the squirrel + Had a quarrel, + And the former called the latter "Little Prig"; + Bun replied, + "You are doubtless very big; + But all sorts of things and weather + Must be taken in together, + To make up a year + And a sphere. + And I think it no disgrace + To occupy my place. + If I'm not so large as you, + You are not so small as I, + And not half so spry. + I'll not deny you make + A very pretty squirrel track; + Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; + If I cannot carry forests on my back, + Neither can you crack a nut." + + +_Ralph Waldo Emerson._ + + + + +DUTY + + + When Duty comes a-knocking at your gate, + Welcome him in, for if you bid him wait, + He will depart only to come once more + And bring seven other duties to your door. + + +_Edwin Markham._ + +From "The Gates of Paradise, and Other Poems." + + + + +PRAYER FOR PAIN + + +"The thief steals from himself. The swindler swindles himself," says +Emerson. Apparent gain may be actual loss; material escape may be +spiritual imprisonment. Any one may idle; but the men who are not +content unless they climb the unscalable mountains or cross the +uncharted seas or bear the burdens that others shrink from, are the ones +who keep the heritage of the spirit undiminished. + + + I do not pray for peace nor ease, + Nor truce from sorrow: + No suppliant on servile knees + Begs here against to-morrow! + + Lean flame against lean flame we flash, + O, Fates that meet me fair; + Blue steel against blue steel we clash-- + Lay on, and I shall dare! + + But Thou of deeps the awful Deep, + Thou Breather in the clay, + Grant this my only prayer--Oh keep + My soul from turning gray! + + For until now, whatever wrought + Against my sweet desires, + My days were smitten harps strung taut, + My nights were slumbrous lyres. + + And howsoe'er the hard blow rang + Upon my battered shield, + Some lark-like, soaring spirit sang + Above my battlefield. + + And through my soul of stormy night + The zigzag blue flame ran. + I asked no odds--I fought my fight-- + Events against a man. + + But now--at last--the gray mist chokes + And numbs me. _Leave me pain! + Oh let me feel the biting strokes + That I may fight again!_ + + +_John G. Neihardt._ + +From "The Quest" (collected lyrics). + + + + +STEADFAST + + +No one ever has a trouble so great that some other person has not a +greater. The thought of the heroism shown by those more grievously +afflicted than we, helps us to bear our own ills patiently. + + + If I can help another bear an ill + By bearing mine with somewhat of good grace-- + Can take Fate's thrusts with not too long a face + And help him through his trials, then I WILL! + For do not braver men than I decline + To bow to troubles graver, far, than mine? + + Pain twists this body? Yes, but it shall not + Distort my soul, by all the gods that be! + And when it's done its worst, Pain's victory + Shall be an empty one! Whate'er my lot, + My banner, ragged, but nailed to the mast, + Shall fly triumphant to the very last! + + Others so much worse off than I have fought; + Have smiled--have met defeat with unbent head + They shame me into following where they led. + Can I ignore the lesson they have taught? + Strike hands with me! Dark is the way we go, + But souls-courageous line it--that I know! + + +_Everard Jack Appleton._ + +From "The Quiet Courage." + + + + +IF + + + If I were fire I'd burn the world away. + If I were wind I'd turn my storms thereon, + If I were water I'd soon let it drown. + +_Cecco Angolieri._ + + + If I were fire I'd seek the frozen North + And warm it till it blossomed fairly forth + And in the sweetness of its smiling mien + Resembled some soft southern garden scene. + And when the winter came again I'd seek + The chilling homes of lowly ones and meek + And do my small but most efficient part + To bring a wealth of comfort to the heart. + + If I were wind I'd turn my breath upon + The calm-bound mariner until, anon, + The eager craft on which he sailed should find + The harbor blest towards which it hath inclined. + And in the city streets, when summer's days + Were withering the souls with scorching rays, + I'd seek the fevered brow and aching eyes + And take to them a touch of Paradise. + + If I were water it would be my whim + To seek out all earth's desert places grim, + And turn each arid acre to a fair + Lush home of flowers and oasis rare. + Resolved in dew, I'd nestle in the rose. + As summer rain I'd ease the harvest woes, + And where a tear to pain would be relief, + A tear I'd be to kill the sting of grief. + + If I were gold, I'd seek the poor man's purse. + I'd try to win my way into the verse + Of some grand singer of Man's Brotherhood, + And prove myself so pure, so fraught with good. + That all the world would bless me for the cup + Of happiness I'd brought for all to sup. + And when at last my work of joy was o'er + I'd be content to die, and be no more! + + +_John Kendrick Bangs._ + +From "Songs of Cheer." + + + + +THE GIFTS OF GOD + + +Why are we never entirely satisfied? Why are we never at absolute peace +or rest? Many are the answers that have been made to this question. The +answer here given by the poet is that so richly is man endowed with +qualities and attributes that if contentment were added to them, he +would be satisfied with what he has, and would not strive for that which +is higher still--the fulfilment of his spiritual cravings. + + + When God at first made Man, + Having a glass of blessings standing by; + Let us (said He) pour on him all we can: + Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie, + Contract into a span. + + So strength first made a way; + Then beauty flow'd, then wisdom, honor, pleasure + When almost all was out, God made a stay, + Perceiving that alone, of all His treasure, + Rest in the bottom lay. + + For if I should (said He) + Bestow this jewel also on My creature, + He would adore My gifts instead of Me, + And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature. + So both should losers be. + + Yet let him keep the rest, + But keep them with repining restlessness: + Let him be rich and weary, that at least, + If goodness lead him not, yet weariness + May toss him to My breast. + + +_George Herbert._ + + + + +A PHILOSOPHER + + +"The web of our life is of mingled yarn, good and ill together," says +Shakespeare. It behooves us therefore to find the good and to make the +best of the ill. Two men were falling from an aeroplane. "I'll bet you +five dollars," said one, "that I hit the ground first." + + + To take things as they be-- + Thet's my philosophy. + No use to holler, mope, or cuss-- + If they was changed they might be wuss. + + If rain is pourin' down, + An' lightnin' buzzin' roun', + I ain't a-fearin' we'll be hit, + But grin thet I ain't out in it. + + If I got deep in debt-- + It hasn't happened yet-- + And owed a man two dollars, Gee! + Why I'd be glad it wasn't three. + + If some one come along, + And tried to do me wrong, + Why I should sort of take a whim + To thank the Lord I wasn't him. + + I never seen a night + So dark there wasn't light + Somewheres about if I took care + To strike a match and find out where. + + +_John Kendrick Bangs._ + +From "Songs of Cheer." + + + + +THE LIFE WITHOUT PASSION + + +A person may feel deeply without shouting his emotion to the skies, or +be strong without seizing occasions to exhibit his strength. In truth we +distrust the power which makes too much a display of itself. Let it +exert itself only to the point of securing the ends that are really +necessary. Restraint, self-control are in truth more mighty than might +unshackled, just as a self-possessed opponent is more dangerous than a +frenzied one. Moreover, there is a moral side to the question. A good +quality, if abused or allowed free sway, becomes a force for evil and +does its owner more harm than if he had not possessed it in the first +place. + + + They that have power to hurt, and will do none, + That do not do the thing they most do show, + Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, + Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow,-- + + They rightly do inherit heaven's graces, + And husband nature's riches from expense; + They are the lords and owners of their faces, + Others, but stewards of their excellence. + + The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, + Though to itself it only live and die; + But if that flower with base infection meet, + The basest weed outbraves his dignity: + + For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; + Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE + + +"I'd rather be right than President," said Henry Clay. It is to men who +are animated by this spirit that the greatest satisfaction in life +comes. For true blessedness does not lie far off and above us. It is +close at hand. Booker T. Washington once told a story of a ship that had +exhausted its supply of fresh water and signaled its need to a passing +vessel. The reply was, "Send down your buckets where you are." Thinking +there was some misunderstanding, the captain repeated his signal, only +to be answered as before. This time he did as he was bidden and secured +an abundance of fresh water. His ship was opposite the mouth of a mighty +river which still kept its current unmingled with the waters of the +ocean. + + + How happy is he born and taught + That serveth not another's will; + Whose armor is his honest thought + And simple truth his utmost skill! + + Whose passions not his masters are, + Whose soul is still prepared for death, + Not tied unto the world with care + Of public fame or private breath; + + Who envies none that chance doth raise + Or vice; who never understood + How deepest wounds are given by praise + Nor rules of state, but rules of good; + + Who hath his life from rumors freed, + Whose conscience is his strong retreat; + Whose state can neither flatterers feed, + Nor ruin make accusers great; + + Who God doth late and early pray + More of his grace than gifts to lend; + And entertains the harmless day + With a well-chosen book or friend; + + --This man is freed from servile bands + Of hope to rise or fear to fall; + Lord of himself, though not of lands; + And having nothing, yet hath all. + + +_Sir Henry Wotton._ + + + + +ESSENTIALS + + +The things here named are essential to a happy and successful life. They +may not be the only essentials. + + + Roll up your sleeves, lad, and begin; + Disarm misfortune with a grin; + Let discontent not wag your chin-- + Let gratitude. + + Don't try to find things all askew; + Don't be afraid of what is new; + Nor banish as unsound, untrue, + A platitude. + + If folks don't act as you would choose + Remember life is varied; use + Your common sense; don't get the blues; + Show latitude. + + Sing though in quavering sharps and flats, + Love though the folk you love are cats, + Work though you're worn and weary--that's + The attitude. + + +_St. Clair Adams._ + + + + +THE STONE REJECTED + + +The story here poetically retold of the great Florentine sculptor shows +how much a lofty spirit may make of unpromising material. + + + For years it had been trampled in the street + Of Florence by the drift of heedless feet-- + The stone that star-touched Michael Angelo + Turned to that marble loveliness we know. + + You mind the tale--how he was passing by + When the rude marble caught his Jovian eye, + That stone men had dishonored and had thrust + Out to the insult of the wayside dust. + He stooped to lift it from its mean estate, + And bore it on his shoulder to the gate, + Where all day long a hundred hammers rang. + And soon his chisel round the marble sang, + And suddenly the hidden angel shone: + It had been waiting prisoned in the stone. + + Thus came the cherub with the laughing face + That long has lighted up an altar-place. + + +_Edwin Markham._ + +From "The Gates of Paradise, and Other Poems." + + + + +GOOD DEEDS + + +The influence of good deeds usually extends far beyond the limits we can +see or trace; but as well not have the power to do them as not use it. + + + How far that little candle throws his beams! + So shines a good deed in a naughty world. + Heaven doth with us as we with torches do; + Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues + Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike + As if we had them not. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +YOU MAY COUNT THAT DAY + + +A class of little settlement girls besought Mrs. George Herbert Palmer, +one insufferable summer morning, to tell them how to be happy. "I'll +give you three rules," she said, "and you must keep them every day for a +week. First, commit something good to memory each day. Three or four +words will do, just a pretty bit of poem, or a Bible verse. Do you +understand?" A girl jumped up. "I know; you want us to learn something +we'd be glad to remember if we went blind." Mrs. Palmer was relieved; +these children understood. She gave the three rules--memorize something +good each day, see something beautiful each day, do something helpful +each day. When the children reported at the end of the week, not a +single day had any of them lost. But hard put to it to obey her? Indeed +they had been. One girl, kept for twenty-four hours within squalid +home-walls by a rain, had nevertheless seen two beautiful things--a +sparrow taking a bath in the gutter, and a gleam of sunlight on a baby's +hair. + + + If you sit down at set of sun + And count the acts that you have done, + And, counting, find + One self-denying deed, one word + That eased the heart of him who heard-- + One glance most kind, + That fell like sunshine where it went-- + Then you may count that day well spent. + + But if, through all the livelong day, + You've cheered no heart, by yea or nay-- + If, through it all + You've nothing done that you can trace + That brought the sunshine to one face-- + No act most small + That helped some soul and nothing cost-- + Then count that day as worse than lost. + + +_George Eliot_. + + + + +SADNESS AND MERRIMENT + +(ADAPTED FROM "THE MERCHANT OF VENICE") + + +In this passage Antonio states that he is overcome by a sadness he +cannot account for. Salarino tells him that the mental attitude is +everything; that mirth is as easy as gloom; that nature in her +freakishness makes some men laugh at trifles until their eyes become +mere slits, yet leaves others dour and unsmiling before jests that would +convulse even the venerable Nestor. Gratiano maintains that Antonio is +too absorbed in worldly affairs, and that he must not let his spirits +grow sluggish or irritable. + + + _ANT._ In sooth, I know not why I am so sad: + It wearies me; you say it wearies you; + But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, + What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, + I am to learn. + + _Salar_. Then let's say you are sad + Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy + For you to laugh and leap, and say you are merry, + Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus, + Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time: + Some that will evermore peep through their eyes + And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper, + And other of such vinegar aspect + That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, + Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. + + _Gra_. You look not well, Signior Antonio; + You have too much respect upon the world: + They lose it that do buy it with much care: + Believe me, you are marvelously changed. + + _Ant_. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano + A stage where every man must play a part, + And mine a sad one. + + _Gra_. Let me play the fool: + With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come, + And let my liver rather heat with wine + Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. + Why should a man whose blood is warm within + Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? + Sleep when he wakes, and creep into a jaundice + By being peevish? Fare ye well awhile: + I'll end my exhortation after dinner. + + +_William Shakespeare._ + + + + +APPRECIATION + + + Life's a bully good game with its kicks and cuffs-- + Some smile, some laugh, some bluff; + Some carry a load too heavy to bear + While some push on with never a care, + But the load will seldom heavy be + When I appreciate you and you appreciate me. + + He who lives by the side of the road + And helps to bear his brother's load + May seem to travel lone and long + While the world goes by with a merry song, + But the heart grows warm and sorrows flee + When I appreciate you and you appreciate me. + + When I appreciate you and you appreciate me, + The road seems short to victory; + It buoys one up and calls "Come on," + And days grow brighter with the dawn; + There is no doubt or mystery + When I appreciate you and you appreciate me. + + It's the greatest thought in heaven or earth-- + It helps us know our fellow's worth; + There'd be no wars or bitterness, + No fear, no hate, no grasping; yes, + It makes work play, and the careworn free + When I appreciate you and you appreciate me. + + +_William Judson Kibby,_ + + + + +KEEP SWEET + + +Even the direst catastrophes may be softened by our attitude to them. +Charles II said to those who had gathered about his deathbed: "You'll +pardon any little lapses, gentlemen. I've never done this thing before." + + + Don't be foolish and get sour when things don't just come your way-- + Don't you be a pampered baby and declare, "Now I won't play!" + Just go grinning on and bear it; + Have you heartache? Millions share it, + If you earn a crown, you'll wear it-- + Keep sweet. + + Don't go handing out your troubles to your busy fellow-men-- + If you whine around they'll try to keep from meeting you again; + Don't declare the world's "agin" you, + Don't let pessimism win you, + Prove there's lots of good stuff in you-- + Keep sweet. + + If your dearest hopes seem blighted and despair looms into view, + Set your jaw and whisper grimly, "Though they're false, yet I'll be true." + Never let your heart grow bitter; + With your lips to Hope's transmitter, + Hear Love's songbirds bravely twitter, + "Keep sweet." + + Bless your heart, this world's a good one, and will always help a man; + Hate, misanthropy, and malice have no place in Nature's plan. + Help your brother there who's sighing. + Keep his flag of courage flying; + Help him try--'twill keep you trying-- + Keep sweet. + + +_Strickland W. Gillilan._ + + + + +MORALITY + + +We can't always, even when accomplishing, have the ardor of +accomplishment; we can only hold to the purpose formed in more inspired +hours. After a work is finished, even though it be a good work which our +final judgment will approve, we are likely to be oppressed for a time by +the anxieties we have passed through; the comfort of effort has left us, +and we recall our dreams, our intentions, beside which our actual +achievement seems small. In such moments we should remember that just +after the delivery of the Gettysburg Address Lincoln believed it an +utter failure. Yet the address was a masterpiece of commemorative +oratory. + + + We cannot kindle when we will + The fire which in the heart resides; + The spirit bloweth and is still, + In mystery our soul abides. + But tasks in hours of insight will'd + Can be through hours of gloom fulfill'd + + With aching hands and bleeding feet + We dig and heap, lay stone on stone; + We bear the burden and the heat + Of the long day and wish 'twere done. + Not till the hours of light return, + All we have built do we discern. + + +_Matthew Arnold_ + + + + +A HYMN TO HAPPINESS + + +A man who owed Artemus Ward two hundred dollars fell into such hard +circumstances that Artemus offered to knock off half the debt. "I won't +let you outdo me in generosity," said the man; "I'll knock off the other +half." Similarly, when we resolve to live down our causes of gloom, fate +comes to our aid and removes most of them altogether. + + + Let us smile along together, + Be the weather + What it may. + Through the waste and wealth of hours, + Plucking flowers + By the way. + Fragrance from the meadows blowing, + Naught of heat or hatred knowing, + Kindness seeking, kindness sowing, + Not to-morrow, but to-day. + + Let us sing along, beguiling + Grief to smiling + In the song. + With the promises of heaven + Let us leaven + The day long, + Gilding all the duller seemings + With the roselight of our dreamings, + Splashing clouds with sunlight's gleamings, + Here and there and all along. + + Let us live along, the sorrow + Of to-morrow + Never heed. + In the pages of the present + What is pleasant + Only read. + Bells but pealing, never knelling, + Hearts with gladness ever swelling. + Tides of charity up welling + In our every dream and deed. + + Let us hope along together, + Be the weather + What it may, + Where the sunlight glad is shining, + Not repining + By the way. + Seek to add our meed and measure + To the old Earth's joy and treasure, + Quaff the crystal cup of pleasure, + Not to-morrow, but to-day. + + +_James W. Foley_. + +From "The Voices of Song." + + + + +OPPORTUNITY + + +Procrastination is not only the thief of time; it is also the grave of +opportunity. + + + In an old city by the storied shores + Where the bright summit of Olympus soars, + A cryptic statue mounted towards the light-- + Heel-winged, tip-toed, and poised for instant flight. + + "O statue, tell your name," a traveler cried, + And solemnly the marble lips replied: + "Men call me Opportunity: I lift + My winged feet from earth to show how swift + My flight, how short my stay-- + How Fate is ever waiting on the way." + + "But why that tossing ringlet on your brow?" + "That men may seize me any moment: _Now_, + NOW is my other name: to-day my date: + O traveler, to-morrow is too late!" + + +_Edwin Markham._ + +From "The Gates of Paradise, and Other Poems." + + + + +TO A YOUNG MAN + + +"Jones write a book! Impossible! I knew his father." This attitude +towards distinction of any sort, whether in authorship or in the field +of action, is characteristic of many of us. We think transcendent +ability is entirely above and apart from the things of ordinary life. +Yet genius itself has been defined as common sense in an uncommon +degree. The great men are human. Shakespeare remembered this when he +said, "I think the king is but a man as I am." We should take heart at +the thought that since the great are like us, we may develop ourselves +until we are like them. + + + The great were once as you. + They whom men magnify to-day + Once groped and blundered on life's way, + Were fearful of themselves, and thought + By magic was men's greatness wrought. + They feared to try what they could do; + Yet Fame hath crowned with her success + The selfsame gifts that you possess. + + The great were young as you, + Dreaming the very dreams you hold, + Longing yet fearing to be bold, + Doubting that they themselves possessed + The strength and skill for every test, + Uncertain of the truths they knew, + Not sure that they could stand to fate + With all the courage of the great. + + Then came a day when they + Their first bold venture made, + Scorning to cry for aid. + They dared to stand to fight alone, + Took up the gauntlet life had thrown, + Charged full-front to the fray, + Mastered their fear of self, and then + Learned that our great men are but men. + + Oh, Youth, go forth and do! + You, too, to fame may rise; + You can be strong and wise. + Stand up to life and play the man-- + You can if you'll but think you can; + The great were once as you. + You envy them their proud success? + 'Twas won with gifts that you possess. + + +_Edgar A. Guest._ + + + + +SLOGAN + + +Some men want ideal conditions with pay in advance before they will +work. But the world does not want such men, and has little place for +them. + + + Don't prate about what is your right, + But bare your fists and show your might; + Life is another man to fight + Catch as catch can. + + Don't talk of Life as scurvy Fate, + Who gave you favors just too late, + Or Luck who threw you smiles for bait + Before he ran. + + Don't whine and wish that you were dead, + But wrestle for your daily bread, + And afterward let it be said + "He was a man." + + +_Jane M'Lean._ + + + + +SMILES + + +Smiles bring out the latent energies within us, as water reveals the +bright colors in the stone it flows over. + + + Smile a little, smile a little, + As you go along, + Not alone when life is pleasant, + But when things go wrong. + Care delights to see you frowning, + Loves to hear you sigh; + Turn a smiling face upon her, + Quick the dame will fly. + + Smile a little, smile a little, + All along the road; + Every life must have its burden, + Every heart its load. + Why sit down in gloom and darkness, + With your grief to sup? + As you drink Fate's bitter tonic + Smile across the cup. + + Smile upon the troubled pilgrims + Whom you pass and meet; + Frowns are thorns, and smiles are blossoms + Oft for weary feet. + Do not make the way seem harder + By a sullen face, + Smile a little, smile a little, + Brighten up the place. + + Smile upon your undone labor; + Not for one who grieves + O'er his task, waits wealth or glory; + He who smiles achieves. + Though you meet with loss and sorrow + In the passing years, + Smile a little, smile a little, + Even through your tears. + + +_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._ + +From "Poems of Power." + + + +[Illustration: ELLA WHEELER WILCOX] + + + + +SIT DOWN, SAD SOUL + + +"A watched pot never boils." Though the pot be the pot of happiness, the +proverb still holds true. + + + Sit down, sad soul, and count + The moments flying: + Come,--tell the sweet amount + That's lost by sighing! + How many smiles--a score? + Then laugh, and count no more; + For day is dying. + + Lie down, sad soul, and sleep, + And no more measure + The flight of Time, nor weep + The loss of leisure; + But here, by this lone stream, + Lie down with us and dream + Of starry treasure. + + We dream: do thou the same: + We love--forever; + We laugh; yet few we shame, + The gentle, never. + Stay, then, till Sorrow dies; + _Then_--hope and happy skies + Are thine forever! + + +_Bryan Waller Procter._ + + + + +SONG OF ENDEAVOR + + +Don Quixote discovered that there are no eggs in last year's +bird's-nests. Many of us waste our time in regrets for the past, without +seeming to perceive that hope lies only in endeavor for the future. + + + 'Tis not by wishing that we gain the prize, + Nor yet by ruing, + But from our falling, learning how to rise, + And tireless doing. + + The idols broken, nor our tears and sighs, + May yet restore them. + Regret is only for fools; the wise + Look but before them. + + Nor ever yet Success was wooed with tears; + To notes of gladness + Alone the fickle goddess turns her ears, + She hears not sadness. + + The heart thrives not in the dull rain and mist + Of gloomy pining. + The sweetest flowers are the flowers sun-kissed, + Where glad light's shining. + + Look not behind thee; there is only dust + And vain regretting. + The lost tide ebbs; in the next flood thou must + Learn, by forgetting. + + For the lost chances be ye not distressed + To endless weeping; + Be not the thrush that o'er the empty nest + Is vigil keeping. + + But in new efforts our regrets to-day + To stillness whiling, + Let us in some pure purpose find the way + To future smiling. + + +_James W. Foley._ + +From "The Voices of Song." + + + + +KEEP A-GOIN'! + + +Some men fail and quit. Some succeed and quit. The wise refuse to quit, +whether they fail or succeed. + + + Ef you strike a thorn or rose, + Keep a-goin'! + Ef it hails, or ef it snows, + Keep a-goin! + 'Taint no use to sit an' whine, + When the fish ain't on yer line; + Bait yer hook an' keep a-tryin'-- + Keep a-goin'! + + When the weather kills yer crop, + Keep a-goin'! + When you tumble from the top, + Keep a-goin'! + S'pose you're out of every dime, + Bein' so ain't any _crime;_ + Tell the world you're feelin' _prime_-- + Keep a-goin'! + + When it looks like all is up, + Keep a-goin'! + Drain the sweetness from the cup, + Keep a-goin'! + See the wild birds on the wing, + Hear the bells that sweetly ring, + When you feel like sighin' _sing--_ + Keep a-goin'! + + +_Frank L. Stanton._ + +From "The Atlanta Constitution." + + + + +WHEN EARTH'S LAST PICTURE IS PAINTED + + +What is it that a human being wants? Most of us have something that we +like to do more than anything else. We are not free to do it as we wish. +We are handicapped by the need to earn a living, by physical weariness, +by the carpings and scoffs of the envious, by the limited time we have +at our disposal. But underneath all this is _the spirit of work_--the +desire to take up our task for its own sake alone, to give our whole +selves to it, to carry it through, not in some partial way, but in +accordance with the fulness of our dream. We want to be free from +distractions and interruptions; if we are driven at all, we want it to +be by our own inner promptings, not by obligation or necessity. Of +course these favorable, these ideal conditions belong to heaven, not to +earth. Kipling here explains what they will mean to the artist, the +painter; but in doing so he expresses the longings of the true workman +of whatsoever sort--he sums up the true spirit of work. + + + When Earth's last picture is painted and the tubes are twisted and dried, + When the oldest colors have faded, and the youngest critic has died, + We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it--lie down for an aeon or two, + Till the Master of All Good Workmen shall set us to work anew. + + And those that were good will be happy: they shall sit in a golden chair; + They shall splash at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comets' hair. + They shall find real saints to draw from--Magdalene, Peter, and Paul; + They shall work for an age at a sitting and never be tired at all! + + And only the Master shall praise us, and only the Master shall blame; + And no one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame, + But each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star, + Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of Things as They are! + + +_Rudyard Kipling._ + +From "Rudyard Kipling's Verse, 1885-1918." + + + + +INDEX BY AUTHORS + + + +A + +ADAMS, ST. CLAIR. Born in Arkansas, 1883. University education; European + travel; has resided at one time or another in nearly all sections of + America. Miscellaneous literary and editorial work. _A Problem to Be + Solved; Essentials; Good Intentions; It Won't Stay Blowed; Jaw; Never + Trouble Trouble; Ownership; The Rectifying Years; The Syndicated + Smile; Tit for Tat; Wanted--a Man_. + +ALEXANDER, GRIFFITH. Born at Liverpool, Eng., Jan. 15, 1868. Educated + in public schools; came to the United States 1887; been connected with + newspapers in great variety of capacities; President of the American + Press Humorists. _Gray Days; Life; The Grumpy Guy_. + +ANONYMOUS. _De Sunflower Ain't de Daisy; Hope; I'm Glad; Is It Raining, + Little Flower?; Keep On Keepin' On; Playing the Game; To the Men Who + Lose_. + +APPLETON, EVERARD JACK. Born at Charleston, W. Va., Mar. 24, 1872. Very + little schooling, but had advantages of home literary influences and a + good library; at seventeen went into newspaper work in his home town; + later went to Cincinnati, and worked on the daily _Tribune_, then on + the _Commercial Gazette_; later connected with the Cincinnati + _Times-Star_. For five years he wrote daily column of verse and humor; + besides his newspaper work, he has written over one hundred and fifty + stories, hundreds of poems, many songs, and innumerable jokes, + jingles, cheer-up wall cards, and the like. Author of two books of + poetry, "The Quiet Courage" and "With the Colors." With such intense + work his health broke down, and for a number of years he has been a + chronic invalid, but his cheer and his faith are as bright as ever. + _Hold Fast; Meetin' Trouble; Steadfast; The Fighting Failure; The One; + The Woman Who Understands; Unafraid; What Dark Days Do_. + + +ARNOLD, MATTHEW. Born at Laleham, Middlesex, Eng., Dec. 24, 1822; died +at Liverpool, Apr. 15, 1888. Educated at Winchester, Rugby, and Oxford. +Became Lord Lansdowne's secretary 1847; became inspector of schools +1851; appointed Professor of Poetry at Oxford 1857; continental tours to +inspect foreign educational systems 1859 and 1865; assigned a pension of +L250 by Gladstone 1883; lecture trips to America 1883 and 1886; retired +as inspector of schools 1886. Among his works are "Empedocles on Etna, +and Other Poems," "Essays in Criticism" (first and second series), +"Culture and Anarchy," "Literature and Dogma," "Discourses in America," +and "On the Study of Celtic Literature." _Morality_; _Self-Dependence_. + + + +B + +BANGS, JOHN KENDRICK. Born at Yonkers, N.Y., May 27, 1862; died Jan. 21, + 1922. Received Ph.B. degree from Columbia 1883; associate editor of + _Life_ 1884-8; has since served in various editorial capacities on + _Harper's Magazine, Harper's Weekly_, and the _Metropolitan Magazine_. + Among his books are "The Idiot," "A House Boat on the Styx," "The + Bicyclers, and Other Farces," "Songs of Cheer," "Line o' Cheer for + Each Day o' the Year," "The Foothills of Parnassus," "A Quest for + Song," and "The Cheery Way." _A Philosopher_; _A Smiling Paradox_; + _If_; _The Kingdom of Man_; _The Richer Mines_; _The Word_; _To + Melancholy_. + +BARBAULD, ANNA LETITIA AIKIN. Born at Kibworth-Harcourt, Leicestershire, + Eng., June 20, 1743; died at Stoke-Newington, Mar. 9, 1825. Poet and + essayist. _Life and Death_. + +BENET, WILLIAM ROSE. Born at Fort Hamilton, New York Harbor, Feb. 2, 1886. + Graduated from Albany, N.Y., Academy 1904; Ph.B. from Sheffield + Scientific School of Yale University 1907. Reader for _Century + Magazine_ 1907-11; assistant editor of the same 1911-14. 2d Lieutenant + U.S. Air Service 1914-18. Assistant editor of the _Nation's Business_ + 1919. His books are "Merchants from Cathay," "The Falconer of God," + "The Great White Wall," and "The Burglar of the Zodiac." _His Ally_; + _Mistress Fate_. + +BENJAMIN, PARK. Born at Demerara, British Guiana, Aug. 14, 1809; died at + New York City, Sept. 12, 1864. Connected with various periodicals. + _Press On_. + +BINNS, HENRY BRYAN. _Ultimate Act_. + +BRADFORD, GAMALIEL. Born at Boston, Mass., Oct. 9, 1863; privately + tutored till 1882; entered Harvard College 1882 but was obliged to + leave almost immediately because of ill health. Contributor of essays + and poems to various magazines; has a remarkable insight into the + characters of historical figures, and in a few pages reveals their + inner souls. Among his books are "Types of American Character," "A + Pageant of Life," "The Private Tutor," "Between Two Masters," "Matthew + Porter," "Lee, the American," "Confederate Portraits," "Union + Portraits," "A Naturalist of Souls," and "Portraits of American + Women." _God; Heinelet; The Joy of Living_. + +BRALEY, BERTON. Born at Madison, Wis., Jan. 29, 1882. Graduated from the + University of Wisconsin 1905; reporter on the Butte, Mont., _Inter + Mountain_ 1905-6; later with the Butte _Evening News_ and the + Billings, Mont., _Gazette_; with the New York _Evening Mail_ 1909; + associate editor of _Puck_ 1910; free lance writer since 1910; special + correspondent in Northern Europe 1915-16; in France, England, and + Germany 1918-19. Among his books are "Sonnets of a Freshman," "Songs + of a Workaday World," "Things as They Are," "A Banjo at Armageddon," + "In Camp and Trench," and "Buddy Ballads." _Opportunity; Playing the + Game; Start Where You Stand; Success; The Conqueror_. + +BRANCH, ANNA HEMPSTEAD. Born at New London, Conn. Graduated at Adelphi + Academy, Brooklyn, 1893, from Smith College 1897, and from the + American Academy of Dramatic Art, New York, 1900. Among her books are + "The Heart of the Road," "The Shoes That Danced," "Rose of the Wind," + and "Nimrod, and Other Poems." _Gladness_. + +BROWNING, ELIZABETH BARRETT. Born at Coxhoe Hall, Durham, Eng., Mar. 6, + 1806; died at Florence, Italy, June 30, 1861. A semi-invalid all her + life. Married Robert Browning 1846, and resided in Italy for the + remainder of her life. Author of "Casa Guidi Windows," "Aurora Leigh," + and "Sonnets from the Portuguese." _Cares_. + +BROWNING, ROBERT. Born at Camberwell, Eng., May 7, 1812; died at Venice, + Italy, Dec. 12, 1889. Educated at home and at London University; well + trained in music. Travel in Russia 1833; considered diplomatic career; + trip to Italy 1838; married Elizabeth Barrett 1846, and during her + life time resided chiefly at Florence, Italy. After her death in 1861, + he lived in London and Venice. Among his works are "Pauline," + "Paracelsus," "Strafford," "Sordello," "A Blot in the 'Scutcheon," + "Colombe's Birthday," "Dramatis Personae," "A Soul's Tragedy," "Luna," + "Men and Women," "The Ring and the Book," "Fifine at the Fair," "The + Inn-Album," "Dramatic Idyls," and "Asolando." _Man, Bird, and God; + Pippa's Song; Prospice; Rabbi Ben Ezra_. + +BURNS, ROBERT. Born at Alloway, near Ayr, Scotland, Jan. 25, 1759; died + at Dumfries, Scotland, July 21, 1796. Received little education; + drudgery on a farm at Mt. Oliphant 1766-77; on a farm at Lochlea + 1777-84, during which time there was a period of loose living and bad + companionship; at the death of his father he and his brother Gilbert + rented Mossgiel farm near Mauchline, where many of his best poems were + written; winter of 1786-7 he visited Edinburgh, and was received into + the best society; winter of 1787-8 revisited Edinburgh but rather + coolly received by Edinburgh society; 1788 married Jean Armour, by + whom he had previously had several children. Took farm at Ellisland + 1788; became an excise officer 1789. Removed to Dumfries 1791; later + years characterized by depression and poverty. Some of his best-known + poems are "The Holy Fair," "The Cotter's Saturday Night," and "Tam + O'Shanter"; wrote many of the most popular songs in the English + language. _A Man's a Man for A' That; Borrowing Trouble; The Gift_. + +BYRON, LORD (George Gordon Byron). Born at London, Jan. 22, 1788; died + at Missolonghi, Greece, Apr. 19, 1824, and buried in parish church at + Hucknell, near Newstead. Born with a deformed foot; much petted as a + child; inherited title and estate at death of his granduncle, William, + fifth Lord Byron, 1798. Studied at Harrow and at Cambridge University, + receiving M.A. degree 1808. Traveled in Portugal, Spain, Greece, and + Turkey 1809-11. In 1815 married Anna Milbanke, who left him 1816. In + 1816 met Miss Clairmont at Geneva, who bore him an illegitimate + daughter, Allegra, 1817; in 1819 met Teresa, Countess Guiccioli, at + Venice, and remained with her during his stay in Italy. Joined the + Greek insurgents 1823, and died of a fever in their cause of freedom + from the Turks. Among his works are "Hours of Idleness," "English + Bards and Scotch Reviewers," "Childe Harold," "The Giaour," "The + Corsair," "The Prisoner of Chillon," "Cain," "Manfred," and "Don + Juan." _Serenity_. + + + +C + +CARLYLE, THOMAS. Born at Ecclefechan, Dumfriesshire, Scotland, Dec. 4, + 1795; died at Chelsea, London, Feb. 4, 1881. Educated at Annan Grammar + School and Edinburgh University; mathematical tutor at Annan 1814; + teacher at Kirkcaldy 1816; went to Edinburgh to study law 1819; tutor + in Buller family 1822-4; married Jane Welsh 1826; lived successively + at Comely Bank, Edinburgh, and Craigenputtoch 1828-34; moved to + Chelsea 1834; and remained there the rest of his life. Elected Lord + Rector of Edinburgh University 1865. Among his works are "Life of + Schiller," "Sartor Resartus," "The French Revolution," "Chartism," + "Heroes, Hero Worship, and the Heroic in History," "Life and Letters + of Oliver Cromwell," "Life of Sterling," "Latter-Day Pamphlets," and + "Frederick the Great." _To-Day_. + +CLOUGH, ARTHUR HUGH. Born at Liverpool, Eng., Jan. 1, 1819; died at + Florence, Italy, Nov. 13, 1861. Went to school at Rugby and Oxford; + accepted headship of University Hall, London, 1849; came to America + 1852; health began to fail 1859. _Say Not the Struggle Nought + Availeth_. + +COATES, FLORENCE EARLE. Born at Philadelphia, Pa.; educated at private + schools and at the Convent of the Sacred Heart, France; studied also + at Brussels. President of the Browning Society of Philadelphia + 1895-1903 and 1907-8; a founder of the Contemporary Club, + Philadelphia, 1886; member of the Society of Mayflower Descendants, + and Colonial Dames of America. Among her books are "Mine and Thine," + "Lyrics of Life," and "The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems." _A Hero; + Courage; Per Aspera_. + +COOKE, EDMUND VANCE. Born at Port Dover, Canada, June 5, 1866. Educated + principally at common schools. He began to give lecture entertainments + 1893, and has been for years one of the most popular lyceum men before + the public. Frequent contributor of poems, stories, and articles to + the leading magazines. His poem "How Did You Die?" has attained a + nation-wide popularity. Among his books are "Just Then Something + Happened," "The Story Club," "Told to the Little Tot," "Chronicles of + the Little Tot," "I Rule the House," "Impertinent Poems," "Little, + Songs for Two," "Rimes to be Read," "The Uncommon Commoner," and "A + Patch of Pansies." _How Did You Die?; Laugh a Little Bit_. + +CROSBY, ERNEST HOWARD. Born at New York City, Nov. 4, 1856; died there + Jan. 3, 1907. Graduated from University of New York 1876, and from + Columbia Law School 1878; lawyer in New York 1878-89; judge of + international court at Alexandria, Egypt, 1889-94; returned to New + York 1894, and interested himself in social reform. Among his books + are "Plain Talk in Psalm and Parable," "Captain Jenks, Hero," "Swords + and Plowshares," "Tolstoi and His Message," and "Labor and Neighbor." + _Life and Death_. + + + +D + +DEKKER, THOMAS. Born at London, about 1570; died about 1641. Little is + known of his life; imprisoned several times; had literary quarrels + with Ben Jonson. Lived in the great period of the English drama (the + age of Shakespeare); wrote many of his plays in collaboration with + other writers of the period. Among his best-known plays are "The + Shoe-makers' Holiday" and "Old Fortunatus." _The Happy Heart_. + +DRAKE, JOSEPH RODMAN. Born at New York City, Aug. 7, 1795; died there + Sept. 21, 1820. Author of "The Culprit Fay" and "The American Flag." + _The Man Who Frets at Worldly Strife_. + + + +E + +ELIOT, GEORGE (Mary Ann Evans Lewes Cross). Born at Arbury Farm, + Warwickshire, Eng., Nov. 22, 1819; died at Chelsea, London, Dec. 22, + 1880. Educated at Nuneaton and Coventry; assistant editor of the + _Westminster Review_ 1851-3. Lived with George Henry Lewes from 1854 + until his death in 1878; married John Walter Cross in 1880. Among her + books (mostly novels) are "Adam Bede," "The Mill on the Floss," "Silas + Marner," "Romola," "Felix Holt," "The Spanish Gypsy," "Middlemarch," + "Daniel Deronda," and "Impressions of Theophrastus Such." _You May + Count That Day_. + +EMERSON, RALPH WALDO. Born at Boston, Mass., May 25, 1803; died at + Concord, Mass., Apr. 27, 1882. Graduated at Harvard College 1821, + working his way; taught school; began to study for the ministry 1823; + licensed to preach 1826; trip to the South for his health 1827-8; + Unitarian minister in Boston 1829-32; European travel 1832-3; settled + at Concord 1834; lectured extensively for over thirty years. + Contributed to the _Dial_ 1840-4; visited Europe 1847-8 and 1872-3. + Lectured at Harvard 1868-70. Some of his works are "Nature," "The + American Scholar," "Essays" (first and second series), "Representative + Men," "English Traits," "The Conduct of Life," and "Society and + Solitude." _Duty; Fable_. + + + +F + +FOLEY, JAMES WILLIAM. Born at St. Louis, Mo., Feb. 4, 1874. Educated at + the University of South Dakota. Member of Masonic Order and Past Grand + Master of Masons. Had early ranch experience; knew Theodore Roosevelt + during his ranching days. Began newspaper work on the Bismarck, N. + Dak., _Tribune_ 1892. During the Great War he served seventeen months + in army camps as an entertainer and inspirational lecturer, traveling + fifty thousand miles and addressing a quarter of a million men. For + fifteen years he has been lecturing and writing. His work includes + books of verse, humorous sketches, and plays. At present associate + editor of the Pasadena, Cal., _Evening Post._ Among his books are + "Boys and Girls," "Tales of the Trail," "Friendly Rhymes," "Voices of + Song," "Letters of William Green," and "Songs of Schooldays." _A Hymn + to Happiness; A Toast to Merriment; Days of Cheer; Friends of Mine; + One of These Days; Song of Endeavor; Undismayed_. + +FOSS, SAM WALTER. Born at Candia, N.H., June 19, 1858; died in 1911. + Graduated from Brown University 1882; editor 1883-93; general writer + 1893-8; librarian at Somerville, Mass., from 1898; lecturer and reader + of his own poems. Among his books are "Back Country Poems," "Whiffs + from Wild Meadows," "Dreams in Homespun," "Songs of War and Peace," + and "Songs of the Average Man." _The Firm of Grin and Barrett_, 118; + _The House by the Side of the Road_, 2. + +FOWLER, ELLEN THORNEYCROFT (The Honorable Mrs. Alfred Felkin). Elder + daughter of 1st Viscount Wolverhampton; married to Alfred Laurence + Felkin 1903. Among her books are "Verses Grave and Gay," "Verses Wise + and Otherwise," "Cupid's Garden," "Concerning Isabel Carnaby," "A + Double Thread," "The Farringdons," "Love's Argument," "Place and + Power," "Miss Fallowfield's Fortune," "The Wisdom of Folly," "Her + Ladyship's Conscience," and "Ten Degrees Backward." _The Wisdom of + Folly_, 61. + + + +G + +GARRISON, THEODOSIA. Born at Newark, N.J., 1874. Educated at private + schools at Newark. Married Joseph Garrison of Newark 1898; married + Frederick J. Faulks of Newark 1911. Among her books are "The Joy of + Life, and Other Poems," "Earth Cry, and Other Poems," and "The + Dreamers." _A Prayer_, 156; _One Fight More_, 145. + +GATES, ELLEN M. HUNTINGTON. Born at Torrington, Conn., 1834; died at + New York City, Oct. 12, 1920. Schooling at Hamilton, N.Y. Among her + books are "Treasures of Kurium," "The Dark," "To the Unborn Peoples," + and "The Marble House." _The Bars of Fate_, 158; _Your Mission_, 120. + +GILLILAN, STRICKLAND W. Born at Jackson, Ohio, Oct. 9, 1869. Attended + Ohio University to junior year; began newspaper work on the Jackson, + Ohio, _Herald_ 1887; and has since been on the staffs of many + newspapers and magazines in various capacities. Writer of humorous + verse, and popular lyceum lecturer. Among his books are "Including + Finnigan," "Including You and Me," and "A Sample Case of Humor." _Keep + Sweet_, 220. + +GILMAN, CHARLOTTE PERKINS. Born at Hartford, Conn., July 3, 1860. + Excellent home instruction; school attendance scant; real education + reading and thinking, mainly in natural science, history, and + sociology. Writer and lecturer on humanitarian topics, especially + along lines of educational and legal advancement. _The Forerunner_, a + monthly magazine, entirely written by her, published for seven years + from 1910. Among her publications are "In This Our World," "Women and + Economics," "Concerning Children," "The Home," "Human Work," "The + Yellow Wallpaper," "The Man-made World," "Moving the Mountain," "What + Diantha Did," and "The Crux." _Resolve; The Lion Path_. + +GLAENZER, RICHARD BUTLER. Born at Paris, France, Dec. 15, 1876. Educated + at the Hill School and Yale. Interior decorator, poet, and essayist. + At present scenario writer at Hollywood, California. Author of "Beggar + and King" and "Literary Snapshots." _Man or Manikin_. + +GOETHE, JOHANN WOLFGANG VON. Born at Frankfort-on-the-Main, Germany, + Aug. 28, 1749; died at Weimar, Mar. 22, 1832. Famous poet, dramatist, + and prose writer. Among his well-known works are "The Sorrows of Young + Werther," "Wilhelm Meister," "Hermann and Dorothea," and "Faust." + _Lose the Day Loitering_. + +GRAY, THOMAS. Born at London, Dec. 26, 1716; died at Cambridge, July 30, + 1771. Educated at Eton and Cambridge; went with Horace Walpole on trip + to Continent 1739-41; became professor of modern history at Cambridge + 1768, but did not teach. A man singularly retiring and shy throughout + his life. Among his well-known poems are "Ode on a Distant Prospect of + Eton College," "Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard," "The Progress + of Poetry," "The Bard," "The Fatal Sisters," and "The Descent of + Odin." _Opening Paradise_. + +GUEST, EDGAR ALBERT. Born at Birmingham, Eng., Aug. 20, 1881; brought to + the United States 1891; educated in grammar and high schools of + Detroit, Mich. Connected with the Detroit _Free Press_ since 1895; + syndicates a daily poem in several hundred newspapers. His books are + "A Heap o' Livin'," "Just Folks," "Over Here," "Path to Home," and + "When Day is Done." _Can't; How Do You Tackle Your Work?; It Couldn't + Be Done; See It Through; There Will Always Be Something to Do; The + Things That Haven't Been Done Before; The World Is Against Me; To a + Young Man_. + + + +H + +HENLEY, WILLIAM ERNEST. Born at Gloucester, Eng., Aug. 23, 1849; died + July 11, 1903. Educated at the Crypt Grammar School at Gloucester. + Afflicted with physical infirmity, and in hospital at Edinburgh + 1874--an experience which gave the material for his "Hospital + Sketches." Went to London 1877; edited _London_ (a magazine of art) + 1882-6; the _Scots Observer_ (which became the _National Observer_) + 1888-93; and the _New Review_ 1893-8. Besides three plays which he + wrote in collaboration with Robert Louis Stevenson, he is the author + of "Views and Reviews," "Hospital Sketches," "London Voluntaries" and + "Hawthorn and Lavenden" _Invictus_, 5; _Praise the Generous Gods for + Giving_, 194; _Thick Is the Darkness_, 151. + +HERBERT, GEORGE. Born at Montgomery Castle, Wales, Apr. 3, 1593; died at + Bemerton, near Salisbury, Eng., Feb., 1633. Graduated from Cambridge + 1613; took M.A. degree 1616. He was in high favor at court; appointed + by the King as rector to Bemerton Church in 1630, and there wrote the + religious poems for which he is remembered. _The Gifts of God_, 211. + +HOLLAND, JOSIAH GILBERT. Born at Belchertown, Mass., July 24, 1819; died + at New York City, Oct. 21, 1881. Editor of the _Springfield + Republican_ 1849-66; editor-in-chief of _Scribner's Monthly_ (which + later became the _Century Magazine_). Among his poems are "Kathrina" + and "Bitter-Sweet." _Gradatim_, 200. + +HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL. Born at Cambridge, Mass., Aug. 29, 1809; died + there Oct. 7, 1894. Physician; professor of anatomy and physiology in + the medical school of Harvard University 1847-82. Some of his + best-known poems are "Bill and Joe," "The Deacon's Masterpiece," and + "The Chambered Nautilus." Of his three novels "Elsie Venner" is the + best known. His "Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table," "Professor at the + Breakfast-Table," "Poet at the Breakfast-Table," and "Over the + Tea-Cups" all appeared originally in the _Atlantic Monthly_. _The + Chambered Nautilus_, 30. + +HUNT, JAMES HENRY LEIGH. Born at Southgate, Eng., Oct. 19, 1784; died + at Putney, Eng., Aug. 28, 1859. Imprisoned for radical political + views; writer of popular poems and essays, _Abou Ben Adhem_, 133. + + + +I + +INGALLS, JOHN JAMES. Born at Middleton, Mass., Dec. 29, 1833; died at + Las Vegas, N. Mex., Aug. 16, 1900. Educated at Williams College; + admitted to the bar 1857; moved to Kansas; member of the state senate + 1861; U.S. senator from Kansas 1873-91. _Opportunity_, 54. + + + +J + +JONSON, BEN. Born at Westminster, Eng., about 1573; died Aug. 6, 1637. + Went to school at St. Martin's-in-the-Fields and Westminster. + Shakespeare played one of the roles in his comedy "Every Man in His + Humour" 1598. He went to France as the tutor of the son of Sir Walter + Raleigh 1613; was in the favor of the court, from which he received a + pension. Attacked with palsy 1626, and later with dropsy, and confined + to his bed most of his later years. Well-known plays besides the one + cited above are "Epicoene," "The Alchemist," "Volpone," "Bartholomew + Fair," and "Cataline"; author of the lyric "Drink to Me Only With + Thine Eyes," and a volume of criticism "Timber." _The Noble Nature_, + 177. + + + +K + +KEATS, JOHN. Born at London, Oct. 29, 1795; died at Rome, Feb. 23, 1821. + Went to Enfield School; apprenticed to a druggist 1811-15; student in + London hospitals 1815-17; passed examination at Apothecaries Hall + 1816, but never practised. Walking trip to Scotland 1818; his health + rapidly failed, and he sailed to Naples in Sept. 1820, and then went + to Rome, where, until his death, he was attended by his friend Severn. + Among his well-known poems are "On First Looking into Chapman's + Homer," "Endymion," "The Eve of St. Agnes," "Isabella," "La Belle Dame + Sans Merci," "Ode to Psyche," "Ode to a Grecian Urn," "Ode to a + Nightingale," "Ode on Melancholy," "Lamia," "Ode to Autumn," and + "Hyperion." _Fairy Song_, 193. + +KIBBY, WILLIAM JUDSON. Born at Knoxville, Tenn., Mar. 12, 1876. Educated + in Knoxville Public Schools; graduate of the Sheldon School. Character + analyst and industrial psychologist; newspaper and magazine + contributor. President of the Lion's Club of New York; thirty-second + degree Mason. _Appreciation_, 219; _Helpin' Out_, 96. + +KING, BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, JR. Born at St. Joseph, Mich., Mar. 17, 1857; + died at Bowling Green, Ky., Apr. 7, 1894. At an early age showed a + remarkable talent in music; a public entertainer on the piano and + reciter of his own verse. His poems collected in "Ben King's Verse." + _If I Should Die_, 13; _The Pessimist_, 166. + +KIPLING, RUDYARD. Born at Bombay, India, Dec. 30, 1865. Educated in + England at United Service College; returned to India 1880; assistant + editor of _Civil and Military Gazette_ 1882-89; returned to England + 1889; resided in the United States for several years; has traveled in + Japan and Australasia. Received the Noble Prize for Literature 1907; + honorary degrees from McGill University, Durham, Oxford, and + Cambridge. Among his books are "Departmental Ditties," "Plain Tales + from the Hills," "Under the Deodars," "Phantom' Rickshaw," "Wee Willie + Winkle," "Life's Handicap," "The Light That Failed," "Barrack-Room + Ballads," "The Jungle Book," "The Second Jungle Book," "The Seven + Seas," "Captains Courageous," "The Day's Work," "Kim," "Just So + Stories," "Puck of Pook's Hill," "Actions and Reactions," "Rewards and + Fairies," "Fringes of the Fleet," and "Sea Warfare." _If_, 4; _When + Earth's Last Picture Is Painted_, 230. + +KISER, SAMUEL ELLSWORTH. Born at Shippenville, Pa. Educated in Pennsylvania + and Ohio. Began newspaper work in Cleveland, and from 1900 until 1914 + was editorial and special writer for the Chicago _Record-Herald_. + Noted for his humorous sketches, which have been widely syndicated. + His poem "Unsubdued" is, like Henley's "Invictus," a splendid + portrayal of undaunted courage in the face of defeat. Among his books + are "Georgie," "Charles the Chauffeur," "Love Sonnets of an Office + Boy," "Ballads of the Busy Days," "Sonnets of a Chorus Girl," "The + Whole Glad Year," and "The Land of Little Care." _A Little Prayer; + December 31; Faith; It May Be; My Creed; The Fighter; Unsubdued_. + +KNOX, J. MASON. _Co-operation_. + + + +L + +LONGFELLOW, HENRY WADSWORTH. Born at Portland, Me., Feb. 27, 1807; died + at Cambridge, Mass., Mar. 24, 1882. Graduated from Bowdoin College + 1825; traveled in Europe 1826-9; professor of modern languages at + Bowdoin 1829-34; again visited Europe 1835-6; professor of modern + languages and belles lettres at Harvard College 1836-54; European + travel 1868-9. Some of his best-known poems are "A Psalm of Life," + "The Village Blacksmith," "The Wreck of the Hesperus," "The Skeleton + in Armor," "The Bridge," "Evangeline," "The Building of the Ship," + "Hiawatha," "The Courtship of Miles Standish," and "Tales of a Wayside + Inn"; author of two novels, "Hyperion" and "Kavanagh"; translator of + Dante's "Divine Comedy." _A Psalm of Life; The Arrow and the Song_. + +LOVELACE, RICHARD. Born in Kent, 1618; died at London, 1658. Educated + at Oxford; imprisoned for support of the royalist cause 1642 and 1648; + released from prison after the execution of King Charles I, but his + estate had been ruined and he died in poverty. _To Althea from + Prison_. + + + +M + +MACKAY, CHARLES. Born at Perth, Eng., Mar. 27, 1814; died at London, + Dec. 24, 1889. Editor of the Glasgow _Argus_ 1844-47 and of the + _Illustrated London News_ 1852-59; New York correspondent of the + London _Times_ during the Civil War. _Clear the Way; Cleon and I_. + +M'LEAN, JANE. _Slogan_. + +MALLOCH, DOUGLAS. Born at Muskegon, Mich., May 5, 1877. Common school + education; reporter on the Muskegon _Daily Chronicle_ 1886-1903; + member of the editorial staff of the _American Lumberman_ from 1903; + associate editor from 1910; contributes verse relating to the forest + and lumber camps to various magazines; is called "The Poet of the + Woods," He is author of "In Forest Land," "Resawed Fables," "The + Woods," "The Enchanted Garden," and "Tote-Road and Trail." _Be the + Best of Whatever You Are; To-Day_. + +MALONE, WALTER. Born in De Soto Co., Miss., Feb. 10, 1866; died May 18, + 1915. Received the degree of Ph.B. from the University of Mississippi + 1887; practised law at Memphis, Tenn., 1887-97; literary work in New + York City 1897-1900; then resumed law practice at Memphis; became + Judge of second Circuit Court, Shelby Co., Tenn., 1905, and served + till his death. Annual exercises held in the Capleville schools in his + honor. An excellent edition of his poems, issued under the direction + of his sister, Mrs. Ella Malone Watson of Capleville, Tenn., is + published by the John P. Morton Co., of Louisville, Ky. _Opportunity_. + +MARKHAM, EDWIN. Born at Oregon City, Ore., Apr. 23, 1852. Went to + California 1857; worked at farming and black-smithing, and herded + cattle and sheep, during boyhood. Educated at San Jose Normal School + and two Western colleges; special student in ancient and modern + literature and Christian sociology; principal and superintendent of + schools in California until 1899. Mr. Markham is one of the most + distinguished of American poets and lecturers. His poem "The Man with + the Hoe" in his first volume of poems is world-famous, and has been + heralded by many as "the battle-cry of the next thousand years." He + has sounded in his work the note of universal brotherhood and + humanitarian interest, and has been credited as opening up a new + school of American poetry appealing to the social conscience, where + Whitman appealed only to the social consciousness. His books are "The + Man with the Hoe, and Other Poems," "Lincoln, and Other Poems," "The + Shoes of Happiness, and Other Poems," and "Gates of Paradise, and + Other Poems." His book "California the Wonderful" is a volume of + beautiful prose giving a historical, social, and literary study of the + state. _A Creed; Duty; Opportunity; Preparedness; Rules for the Road; + The Stone Rejected; Two at a Fireside; Victory in Defeat_. + +MASON, WALT. Born at Columbus, Ontario, May 4, 1862. Self-educated. Came + to the United States 1880; was connected with the Atchison _Globe_ + 1885-7; later with Lincoln, Neb., _State Journal_; editorial + paragrapher of the _Evening News_, Washington, 1893; with the Emporia, + Kan., _Gazette_ since 1907. Writes a daily prose poem which is + syndicated in over two hundred newspapers, and is believed to have the + largest audience of any living writer. Among his books are "Rhymes of + the Range," "Uncle Walt," "Walt Mason's Business Prose Poems," + "Rippling Rhymes," "Horse Sense," "Terse Verse," and "Walt Mason, His + Book." _Lions and Ants; The Has-Beens; The Welcome Man_. + +MILLER, JOAQUIN. Born in Indiana, Nov. 11, 1841; died Feb. 17, 1913. He + went to Oregon 1854; was afterwards a miner in California; studied + law; was a judge in Grant County, Oregon, 1866-70. For a while he was + a journalist in Washington, D.C.; returned to California 1887. He is + the author of various books of verse, and is called "The Poet of the + Sierras." _Columbus; To Those Who Fail_. + +MILTON, JOHN. Born at London, Dec. 9, 1608; died there Nov. 8, 1674. + Attended St. Paul's School; at Cambridge 1625-32. At Horton, writing + and studying, 1632-38. In 1638 went to Italy; met Galileo in Florence. + During the great Civil War wrote pamphlets against the Royalists; was + made Latin Secretary to the new Commonwealth 1649; became totally + blind 1652. Until his third marriage in 1663, his domestic life had + been rendered unhappy by the undutifulness of his three daughters. + Among his works are "L'Allegro," "Il Penseroso," "Comus," "Lycidas," + "Paradise Lost," "Paradise Regained," and "Samson Agonistes." _The + Inner Light_. + +MORGAN, ANGELA. Born at Washington, D.C. Educated under private tutors + and at public schools; took special work at Columbia University. Began + early as a newspaper writer, first with the Chicago _American_; then + with the Chicago _Journal_, and New York and Boston papers. She is a + member of the Poetry Society of America, The MacDowell Club, Three + Arts, and the League of American Pen Women. She is one of the most + eloquent readers before the public to-day; was a delegate to the + Congress of Women at The Hague 1915, at which she read her poem + "Battle Cry of the Mothers." Her four books of poems are "The Hour Has + Struck," "Utterance, and Other Poems," "Forward, March!" and "Hail, + Man!" and a fifth is soon to be published. Her book of fiction "The + Imprisoned Splendor" contains well-known stories ("What Shall We Do + with Mother?" "The Craving," "Such Is the Love of Woman," and "The + Making of a Man"), some of which appeared previously in magazines. A + novel is shortly to be published. _A Song of Life; A Song of + Thanksgiving; Grief; Know Thyself; Stand Forth!; When Nature Wants a + Man; Work_. + +MORRIS, JOSEPH. Born in Ohio 1889. College and university education; + professor of English and lecturer on literary subjects; newspaper and + magazine contributor; connected with publishing houses since 1917 in + various editorial capacities. _A Lesson from History; Borrowed + Feathers; Can You Sing a Song?; If You Can't Go Over or Under, Go + Round; Philosophy for Croakers; Swellitis; The Glad Song; The + Unmusical Soloist; Two Raindrops_. + + + +N + +NEIHARDT, JOHN GNEISENAU. Born near Sharpsburg, Ill., Jan. 8, 1881. + Completed the scientific course at the Nebraska Normal College 1897; + received the degree of Litt.D. from the University of Nebraska 1917. + Declared Poet Laureate of Nebraska by a joint resolution of the + Legislature, Apr. 1921, in recognition of the significance of the + American epic cycle upon which he has been working for eight years. + Winner of the prize of five hundred dollars offered by the Poetry + Society of America for the best volume of poetry ("The Song of Three + Friends") published by an American in 1919. Has been literary critic + of the Minneapolis _Journal_ since 1912. Among his books are "The + Divine Enchantment," "The Lonesome Trail," "A Bundle of Myrrh," + "Man-Song," "The River and I," "The Dawn-Builder," "The Stranger at + the Gate," "Death of Agrippina," "Life's Lure," "The Song of Hugh + Glass," "The Quest," "The Song of Three Friends," "The Splendid + Wayfaring," and "Two Mothers." _Battle Cry_, 148; _Envoi_, 196; _Let + Me Live Out My Years_, 127; _Prayer for Pain_, 208. + +NETTE, JEAN. _Challenge_, 119. + +NEWBOLT, SIR HENRY. Born at Bilston, Eng., June 6, 1862. Educated at + Oxford; practised law until 1899; editor of _Monthly Review_ 1900-04; + Vice-President of the Royal Society of Literature; created a Knight + 1915. Among his books are "Taken from the Enemy," "Mordred," "Admirals + All," "The Island Race," "The Old Country," "The Book of Cupid," + "Poems Old and New," and "The New June." _Play the Game_, 162. + +NOYES, ALFRED. Born in Staffordshire, Eng., Sept. 16, 1880. Educated at + Oxford; received honorary degree of Litt.D. from Yale 1913; gave the + Lowell Lectures in America on "The Sea in English Poetry" 1913; + elected to Professorship of Modern Poetry at Princeton 1914; + temporarily attached to the foreign office 1916. Among his books are + "Collected Poems" (three volumes), "The Elfin Artist," "The New + Morning," "The Lord of Misrule," "A Belgian Christmas Eve," "The + Wine-Press," "Tales of the Mermaid Tavern," "Sherwood," "The Enchanted + Island," "Drake," "Beyond the Desert," "Walking Shadows," "Open + Boats," "The Golden Hynde." "The Flower of Old Japan," and "A Salute + from the Fleet." _The New Duckling_, 34. + + + +O + +O SHEEL, SHEAMUS. Born at New York City, Sept. 19, 1886. Educated in the + New York City grammar and high schools; took special work in English + and history at Columbia 1906-8. Member of the Poetry Society of + America and the Gaelic Society. Interested in political and civic + reforms. Among his books are "Blossomy Bough" and "The Light Feet of + Goats." _He Whom a Dream Hath Possessed_. + + + +P + +PROCTER, BRYAN WALLER ("Barry Cornwall"). Born at Leeds, Eng., Nov. 21, + 1787; died Oct. 5, 1874. Educated at Harrow; schoolmate of Byron and + Sir Robert Peel; called to the bar 1831; commissioner of lunacy + 1832-61. Among his books are "Dramatic Scenes, and Other Poems," "A + Sicilian Story," "Flood of Thessaly," and "English Songs." _Sit Down, + Sad Soul_. + + + +R + +RICE, GRANTLAND. Born at Nashville, Tenn., Nov. 1, 1880. Attended + Vanderbilt University. Worked as sporting writer on the Atlanta + _Journal_; came to New York City in 1911. His sporting column, "The + Sportlight," is said to be more widely syndicated and more widely read + than any other writing on topics of sport in the United States. Irvin + S. Cobb says that it often reaches the height of pure literature, and + as a writer of homely, simple American verse Grantland Rice is held by + many to be the logical successor to James Whitcomb Riley. He is author + of "Songs of the Stalwart" and editor of the _American Golfer_. _Brave + Life_; "_Might Have Been_"; _On Being Ready_; _On Down the Road_; _The + Answer_; _The Call of the Unbeaten_; _The Game_; _The Trainers_. + +RILEY, JAMES WHITCOMB. Born at Greenfield, Ind., 1849; died at Indianapolis, + Ind., July 22, 1916. Public school education; received honorary degree + of M.A. from Yale 1902; Litt.D. from Wabash College 1903 and from the + University of Pennsylvania 1904, and LL.D. from Indiana University + 1907. Began contributing poems to Indiana papers 1873; known as the + "Hoosier Poet," and much of his verse in the middle Western and + Hoosier dialect. Among his books are "The Old Swimmin' Hole," + "Afterwhiles," "Old Fashioned Roses," "Pipes o' Pan at Zekesbury," + "Neighborly Poems," "Green Fields and Running Brooks," "Poems Here at + Home," "Child-Rhymes," "Love Lyrics," "Home Folks," "Farm-Rhymes," "An + Old Sweetheart of Mine," "Out to Old Aunt Mary's," "A Defective Santa + Claus," "Songs o' Cheer," "Boys of the Old Glee Club," "Raggedy Man," + "Little Orphan Annie," "Songs of Home," "When the Frost Is on the + Punkin," "All the Year Round," "Knee-Deep in June," "A Song of Long + Ago," and "Songs of Summer." His complete works are issued by the + Bobbs-Merrill Company in the "Biographical Edition of James Whitcomh + Riley" 1913. _Just Be Glad_, 14; _My Philosophy_, 57. + +RITTENHOUSE, JESSIE BELLE. Born at Mt. Morris, N.Y. Graduate of Genesee + Wesleyan Seminary, Lima, N.Y.; teacher of Latin and English in a + private school at Cairo, Ill., and at Ackley Institute for Girls, + Grand Haven, Mich., 1893-4; active newspaper work and reviewer until + 1900; contributor to New York _Times_ Review of Books and _The + Bookman_; lecturer on modern poetry in extension courses of Columbia + University. Her books are "The Little Book of Modern Verse," "The + Little Book of Modern American Verse," "Second Book of Modern Verse," + "The Younger American Poets," and "The Door of Dreams." _My Wage_, + 183. + + + +S + +SERVICE, ROBERT WILLIAM. Born at Preston, Eng., Jan. 10, 1874. Educated + at Hillhead Public School, Glasgow; served apprenticeship with the + Commercial Bank of Scotland, Glasgow; emigrated to Canada and settled + on Vancouver Island; for a while engaged in farming, and later + traveled up and down the Pacific coast, following many occupations; + finally joined the staff of the Canadian Bank of Commerce in Victoria, + B.C., 1905; was later transferred to White Horse, Yukon Territory, and + then to Dawson; he spent eight years in the Yukon, much of it in + travel. In Europe during the Great War; in Paris 1921. Among his books + are "The Spell of the Yukon," "Ballads of a Cheerchako," "Rhymes of a + Rolling Stone," "Rhymes of a Red Cross Man," and "Ballads of a + Bohemian." _The Quitter_, 8. + +SHAKESPEARE, WILLIAM. Born at Stratford on Avon, Apr. 23, 1564; died + there Apr. 23, 1616, and buried in Stratford church. Probably attended + Stratford Grammar School; married Anne Hathaway, who was eight years + his senior, Nov., 1582; a daughter, Susanna, born May 1, 1583; twins, + Hamnet and Judith, born 1585. About 1585 went to London, and became + connected with the theater as actor, reviser of old plays, etc. His + son Hammet died 1596; his father applied for a coat of arms 1596. + Bought New Place at Stratford 1597; coat of arms granted 1599; + shareholder in Globe theater 1599. His father died 1601; his daughter + Susanna married to John Hall, a physician at Stratford, 1607; his + mother died 1608. Retired from theatre and returned to Stratford about + 1611. His daughter Judith married to Thomas Quinney, a vintner, 1616; + his wife died 1623; last descendant, Lady Bernard, died 1670. Folio + edition of his plays 1623. Characterized by surpassing ability in both + comedy and tragedy, extraordinary insight into human character, and + supreme mastery of language. Besides his plays, which are too well + known to require listing, he wrote "Sonnets," "Venus and Adonis" and + "The Rape of Lucrece." _A Good Name_, 109; _Cowards_, 194; _Good + Deeds_, 216; _Having Done and Doing_, 52; _Opportunity_, 54; _Order + and the Bees_, 75; _Painting the Lily_, 188; _Polonius's Advice to + Laertes_, 49; _Sadness and Merriment_, 218; _Sleep and the Monarch_, + 142; _Stability_, 157; _The Belly and the Members_, 152; _The Life + Without Passion_, 213. + +SHELLEY, PERCY BYSSHE. Born at Field Place, Sussex, Eng., Aug. 4, 1792; + drowned off Vireggio, Italy, July 8, 1822. Educated at Eton 1804-10; + expelled from Oxford for publication of pamphlet "The Necessity of + Atheism" 1811. Married Harriet Westbrook 1811; left her 1814, and went + to Switzerland with Mary Godwin; returned to England 1815; received + L1000 a year from his grandfather's estate 1815. Harriet drowned + herself 1816, and he formally married Mary the next month. They went + to Italy 1818; he was drowned on a voyage to welcome Leigh Hunt to + Italy; his body burned on a funeral pyre in the presence of Byron, + Hunt, and Trelawney. Some of his well-known poems are "Queen Mab," + "Alastor," "The Revolt of Islam," "Prometheus Unbound," "Adonais," "To + a Skylark," and "Ode to the West Wind"; he also wrote a poetical + tragedy, "The Cenci." _Prometheus Unbound_, 184. + +SILL, EDWARD ROWLAND. Born at Windsor, Conn., 1841; died at Cleveland, + Ohio, Feb. 27, 1887. Graduated from Yale 1861; professor of English at + University of California 1874-82. _Faith_, 112; _Life_, 99; + _Opportunity_, 56. + +SOUTHWELL, ROBERT. Born about 1561; executed at Tyburn, Feb. 21, 1595. + Educated at Paris; received into the Society of Jesus 1578; returned + to England 1586; became chaplain to the Countess of Arundel 1589; + betrayed to the authorities 1592; imprisoned for three years and + finally executed. _Times Go by Turns_, 122. + +STANTON, FRANK LEBBY. Born at Charleston, S.C., Feb. 22, 1857. Common + school education; served apprenticeship as printer; identified with + the Atlanta press for years, especially with the Atlanta + _Constitution_ in which his poems have been a feature, and have won + for him a unique place among modern verse writers. Some of his books + are "Songs of the Soil," "Comes One With a Song," "Songs from Dixie + Land," "Up from Georgia," and "Little Folks Down South." _A Hopeful + Brother_, 67; _A Little Thankful Song_, 181; _A Poor Unfortunate_, + 137; _A Pretty Good World_, 189; _A Song of To-Morrow_, 187; _Here's + Hopin'_, 164; _Hoe Your Row_, 203; _Just Whistle_, 38; _Keep A-Goin'!_ + 229; _This World_, 133. + +STEVENSON, ROBERT LOUIS. Born at Edinburgh, Nov. 13, 1850; died at Apia, + Samoa, Dec. 4, 1894. Early education irregular because of poor + health; went to Italy with his parents 1863; at Edinburgh University + 1867-73, at first preparing for engineering but later taking up law; + admitted to the bar 1875 but never practised. Various trips to the + Continent between 1873-79; visited America 1879-80; resided in + Switzerland, France, and England 1882-7; came to America again 1887-8; + voyages in Pacific 1888-91; at Vailima, Samoa, 1891-94. A conspicuous + example of a man always in poor health yet courageous and optimistic + throughout his life. Among his books are "A Lodging for the Night," + "Travels with a Donkey," "Virginibus Puerisque," "New Arabian Nights," + "Treasure Island," "A Child's Garden of Verse," "The Strange Case of + Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," "Kidnapped," "The Master of Ballantrae," + "Father Damien," "Ebb Tide," and "Weir of Hermiston." _The Celestial + Surgeon_. + + + +T + +TEICHNER, MIRIAM. Born at Detroit, Mich., 1888. Educated in public + schools there; graduated from Central High School; took special + courses in English and economics at the University of Michigan. Member + of staff of Detroit _News_ after leaving school, writing a daily + column of verse and humor; came to New York City as special feature + writer of the New York _Globe_ 1915; in Germany for the Detroit _News_ + and Associated Newspapers writing of post-war social and economic + conditions 1921. _Awareness_; _Submission_; _The Struggle_; _Victory_. + +TENNYSON, ALFRED LORD. Born at Somersby, Lincolnshire, Eng., Aug. 6, 1809; + died at Aldworth House, near Haslemere, Surrey, Oct. 6, 1892. Student + at Cambridge 1828-31, but did not take a degree; trip to the Pyrenees + with Arthur Hallam 1832; granted a pension of L200 by Peel 1845; after + residing successively at Twickenham and Aldworth, he settled at + Farringford, the Isle of Wight, 1853. Became poet laureate 1850; + raised to the peerage 1884. Some of his well-known poems are "The Lady + of Shalott," "The Palace of Art," "The Lotus Eaters," "A Dream of Fair + Women," "Oenone," "Morte d'Arthur," "Dora," "Ulysses," "Locksley + Hall," "The Princess," "In Memoriam," "Maud," "Ode on the Death of the + Duke of Wellington," "Charge of the Light Brigade," "Idylls of the + King," "Enoch Arden," and the plays "Queen Mary" and "Becket." _Life, + not Death_; _Ring Out, Wild Bells_; _The Greatness of the Soul_; + _Ulysses_; _Will_. + + + +V + +VAN DYKE, HENRY. Born at Germantown, Pa., Nov. 10, 1852; graduated at + Polytechnical Institute of Brooklyn 1869; A.B. degree from Princeton + 1873; M.A. degree from there 1876; graduated from Princeton + Theological Seminary 1877; studied at University of Berlin 1877-9; has + received honorary degrees from Princeton, Harvard, Yale, Union, + Wesleyan, Pennsylvania, and Oxford. Pastor of United Congregational + Church, Newport, R.I., 1879-82, and of the Brick Presbyterian Church, + New York, 1883-1900; professor of English literature at Princeton from + 1900; U.S. minister to the Netherlands and Luxemburg 1913-17. Author + of "The Poetry of Tennyson," "Sermons to Young Men," "Little Rivers," + "The Other Wise Man," "The First Christmas Tree," "The Builders, and + Other Poems," "The Lost Word," "Fisherman's Luck," "The Toiling of + Felix, and Other Poems," "The Blue Flower," "Music, and Other Poems," + "Out-of-Doors in the Holy Land," "The Mansion," and "The Unknown + Quantity." _Four Things, 3; Work_, 65. + + + +W + +WHITTIER, JOHN GREENLEAF. Born at Haverhill, Mass., Dec. 17, 1807; died + at Hampton Falls, N.H., Sept. 7, 1892. Of Quaker ancestory; father a + poor farmer; as a boy he injured his health by hard work on the farm. + Taught school; attended Haverhill Academy for two terms 1827-8; edited + Haverhill _Gazette_ 1830; returned to the farm in broken health 1832. + Member of Massachusetts Legislature 1835-6. An ardent opponent of + slavery; edited the Pennsylvania _Freeman_ 1838-40; several times + attacked by mobs because of his views on slavery. Leading writer for + the Washington _National Era _1847-57; contributed to the _Atlantic + Monthly_ 1857. Some of his well-known poems are "Maud Muller," "The + Barefoot Boy," "Barbara Freitchie," "Snow-Bound," and "The Eternal + Goodness." _My Triumph_, 90. + +WIDDEMER, MARGARET. Born at Doylestown, Pa.; educated at home; graduated + at the Drexel Institute Library School 1909. Began writing in + childhood; her first published poem "The Factories" was widely quoted; + married Robert Haven Schauffler 1919. Among her books are "The + Rose-Garden Husband," "Winona of the Camp Fire," "Factories, with + Other Lyrics," "Why Not?" "The Wishing-Ring Man," "The Old Road to + Paradise," and "The Board Walk." _To Youth After Pain_, 103. + +WILCOX, ELLA WHEELER. Born at Johnston Centre, Wis., 1855; died at her + home in Connecticut, Oct. 31, 1919. Educated "Poems of Pleasure," + "Kingdom of Love," "Poems of Passion," "Poems of Progress," "Poems of + Sentiment," "New Thought Common Sense," "Picked Poems," "Gems from + Wilcox," "Faith," "Love," "Hope," "Cheer," and "The World and I." + _Life_, 139; _Smiles_, 226; _Solitude_, 16; _The Disappointed_, 126; + _Will_, 107; _Wishing_, 86; _Worth While_, 28. + +WORDSWORTH, WILLIAM. Born at Cockermouth, Cumberland, Eng., Apr. 7, 1770; + died at Rydal Mount, Apr. 23, 1850. Educated at Hawkshead grammar + school and Cambridge University, where he graduated 1791. Traveled on + Continent 1790; in France 1791-2, where he sympathized with the French + republicans. Received L900 legacy 1795, and settled with his sister + Dorothy at Racedown, Dorsetshire; to be near Coleridge he removed to + Alfoxden 1797; went to Continent 1798; returned to England 1799, and + settled at Grasmere in the lake district; married Mary Hutchison 1802; + settled at Allan Bank 1808; removed to Grasmere 1811. Appointed + distributer of stamps 1813, and settled at Rydal Mount; traveled in + Scotland 1814 and 1832; on the Continent 1820 and 1837. Given a + pension of L300 by Peel 1842; became poet laureate 1843. Some of his + well-known poems are "The Excursion," "Tintern Abbey," "Yarrow + Revisited," "The Prelude," "Intimations of Immortality," and "We Are + Seven." _Ode to Duty_, 190; _The Daffodils_, 180; _The Rainbow_, 117. + +WOTTON, SIR HENRY. Born at Bocton Malherbe, Kent, Eng., 1568; died at + Eton, 1639. Educated at Winchester and Oxford; on the Continent + 1588-95; became the secretary of the Earl of Essex 1595; English + ambassador to Venice, Germany, etc.; became provost of Eton College + 1624. _Character of a Happy Life_, 214. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of It Can Be Done, by Joseph Morris + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IT CAN BE DONE *** + +***** This file should be named 10763.txt or 10763.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/7/6/10763/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Anne Folland and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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