THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 RAINBOW VERSE 
 
 A Book of Helpful Sunny 
 Philosophy 
 
 BY 
 
 W. DAYTON WEGEFARTH 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY 
 
 GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY 
 
 All rights reserved Printed in U. S. A.
 
 pi 
 
 f * 
 
 Dedicated to 
 EDWARD F. ALBEE 
 
 904076
 
 I BELIEVE in the philos 
 ophy of friendship. If 
 my verses bring sunshine into 
 the lives of those who may 
 feel the need of its warmth 
 and point the road that leads 
 to success to those who are 
 aimlessly wandering, I am cer 
 tain that my own life will be 
 sunnier and my road easier. I 
 want my verses to please, but 
 more than that, I want them 
 to help. 
 
 W. D. W.
 
 FRIEND o' MINE: 
 
 I should like to send you a sunbeam, 
 or the twinkle of some bright star, or a 
 tiny piece of the downy fleece that clings 
 to a cloud afar. I should like to send you 
 the essence of a myriad sun-kissed flowers, 
 or the lilting song, as it floats along, of a 
 brook through fairy bowers. I should like 
 to send you the dew-drops that glisten at 
 break of day, and then at night the eerie 
 light that mantles the Milky Way. I 
 should like to send you the power that 
 nothing can overthrow the power to smile 
 and laugh the while a-journeying through 
 life you go. But these are mere fanciful 
 wishes; I'll send you a Godspeed instead, 
 and I '11 clasp your hand then you'll under 
 stand all the things I have left unsaid.
 
 BUM 
 
 He's a little dog, with a stubby tail, and a 
 
 moth-eaten coat of tan; 
 His legs are short, of the wabbly sort: I 
 
 doubt if they ever ran; 
 He howls at night, while in broad daylight 
 
 he sleeps like a bloomin' log, 
 And he likes the feed of the gutter breed ; 
 
 he's a most irregular dog. 
 
 I call him Bum, and in total sum he's all 
 
 that his name implies, 
 For he's just a tramp with a highway stamp 
 
 that culture cannot disguise; 
 And his friends, I've found, in the streets 
 
 abound, be they urchins, dogs or men : 
 Yet he sticks to me with a fiendish glee 
 
 it's truly beyond my ken. 
 
 I talk to him when I'm lonesome-like, and 
 I'm sure that he understands 
 
 When he looks at me attentively and gently 
 licks my hands. 
 
 Then he rubs his nose on my tailored 
 clothes, but I never say aught thereat,
 
 For the good Lord knows I can buy more 
 clothes, but never a friend like that! 
 
 So my good old pal, my irregular dog, my 
 
 flea-bitten, stub-tailed friend, 
 Has become a part of my very heart, to be 
 
 cherished till lifetime's end. 
 And on Judgment-day, if I take the way 
 
 that leads where the righteous meet, 
 If my dog is barred by the heavenly guard 
 
 we'll both of us brave the heat! 
 
 THE REASON 
 
 Some folks '11 al'ays git along, 
 
 An' somehow others won't, 
 But them that does works with a song, 
 
 An' them that doesn't, don't. 
 
 10
 
 BETSY 
 
 She isn't a car with a pedigree, and she's 
 
 old, very old, indeed, 
 Her lines are low and her speed is slow, a 
 
 sort of a "has-been" steed; 
 I've had her repainted, renickeled, too, but 
 
 she still looks about the same, 
 She runs at times, and her springs are 
 
 chimes, and Betsy's her Christian 
 
 name. 
 
 She sputters and sulks, she kicks and bucks, 
 and she has a consumptive cough, 
 
 She often backs on the street-car tracks and 
 the cop has to push her off; 
 
 She goes like the wind on a long down 
 grade and coasts like a gull at sea: 
 
 We're Jack and Jill and we love our hill, 
 but down it must always be. 
 
 So I search for the roads that are smooth and 
 straight and I skirt all the hills and 
 dales, 
 
 I never roam very far from home, for some 
 how my courage fails; 
 
 11
 
 I live in the clouds when I journey forth, 
 tho the clouds are another's dust, 
 
 But I grip my wheel with a Spartan zeal, 
 and say: "In the Lord I trust!" 
 
 And often, how often, they've towed me 
 home at the cost of a five or ten, 
 
 I'd dream of the day of the one-horse shay, 
 and wish I'd been living then; 
 
 And oh! the abuse that I've had to bear, 
 when we'd block up a road or pass, 
 
 They'd howl and groan: "Get the ether- 
 cone!" But / knew she wanted gas. 
 
 And yet, with it all, she's a good old friend, 
 
 tho I know that the day is near, 
 When death will steal into each slow wheel 
 
 and into the running-gear; 
 But this do I swear: she shall rust in peace, 
 
 with no eyes but mine to see; 
 I've suffered much from her friction-clutch, 
 
 but she's been a loyal bus to me. 
 
 12
 
 COMMENCEMENT DAY 
 
 "Where are you going, my pretty maid?" 
 "I'm going to conquer the world," she said. 
 "I've three mighty weapons on which to 
 
 rely: 
 "My smile, my diploma, my mischievous 
 
 eye; 
 "Now, shouldn't I have the whole world 
 
 at my feet? " 
 The world answers: "Yes, for they're 
 
 wonderf'ly neat." 
 
 Diplomas are lost or forgotten, you know, 
 As time presses on, but a smile never so! 
 Nor a mischievous eye these are weapons, 
 
 in truth, 
 That will conquer all hearts, and the world 
 
 too, forsooth. 
 
 THE WAY IT'S DONE. 
 
 "Mother, may I get in the swim? " 
 
 "Yes, my darling daughter; 
 Buy your clothes from a Frenchy store, 
 
 And don't wear half y' oughter. " 
 
 13
 
 WHEN LOVE COMES ALONG 
 
 Isn't it funny how love comes along, 
 With the plaint of the wind, or the lilt of 
 
 a song, 
 With the scent of the flowers that bloom 
 
 by the way, 
 With the stars of the night, or the sun of 
 
 the day? 
 By the touch of its breath all our shadows 
 
 are gone: 
 Isn't it funny how love comes along? 
 
 It comes without bidding, we know not 
 
 from where, 
 And hope takes the place of a longing 
 
 despair; 
 It comes with the dawning, it comes with 
 
 the night, 
 But come when it will there is joy in its 
 
 light. 
 
 Isn't it funny how love comes along? 
 Though our clouds may be dark, it will bid 
 
 them begone; 
 And its advent is marked by no herald or 
 
 boast, 
 
 14
 
 But it finds us, 'twould seem, when we need 
 
 it the most: 
 Oh, the wonderful peace in the joy of its 
 
 song! 
 Isn't it funny how love comes along? 
 
 LIFE'S BOOMERANG 
 
 Do something good each passing day, 
 For those whom you meet on Life's High 
 way; 
 
 Cheer on the traveller at your side, 
 Be his adviser, comrade, guide. 
 
 Perhaps there will come a time, good friend, 
 As over the path of life you wend, 
 That just such a friend as you have been 
 Will give you encouragement to win. 
 
 15
 
 TO THE CONVALESCENT 
 
 It's a shame to be ill and confined to your 
 
 bed, 
 
 To be medicine-filled, hygienic'ly fed; 
 To be pampered and petted from morning 
 
 to night, 
 Till you're ready to scream for you're too 
 
 weak to fight; 
 To be told what a wonderful patient you've 
 
 been 
 When you know it's a fib. I repeat, it's 
 
 a sin! 
 
 But we've all had our plasters, we've all 
 
 had our pills; 
 We've all had our troubles, we've all had 
 
 our ills. 
 They make up a lifetime, old friend, sad 
 
 to tell; 
 But since it's the truth hustle up and get 
 
 well! 
 
 16
 
 A PRAYER 
 
 No day so quickly passes 
 
 That I don't think some of you, 
 It may be once, or often, 
 
 But each thought of you rings true; 
 And oft I pray in silence, 
 
 Asking God to keep you free 
 From all life's ills and sorrows 
 
 And to let you think of me. 
 
 ENCOURAGEMENT 
 
 There's a heap o' satisfaction in the clasp 
 
 of some friend's hand, 
 There's a world of helpfulness in just a 
 
 word, 
 But you'll find that absent-treatment isn't 
 
 vital, understand ? 
 
 For encouragement must both be felt 
 and heard. 
 
 17
 
 THE SUN-CRESTED HILL 
 
 Oh, it's great to be able to go where you will, 
 
 Wherever your heart decrees, 
 To sense all the joy of the wanderlust thrill, 
 
 To go when and where you please. 
 
 For the world is so small and our days are 
 so few, 
 
 And praise such a shallow thing, 
 That life isn't worth all the crying and hue, 
 
 The sorrow desire may bring. 
 
 Strike out for the open, the unfettered way, 
 Strike off all your men-made chains, 
 
 And search for the peace that will never 
 
 decay, 
 Forgetful of worldly gain. 
 
 For the pain and the sorrow, the anguish 
 
 we've known, 
 
 The heart-breaks and tears we've shed, 
 Are fruits of the seeds we have greedily 
 
 sown, 
 The toll of the lives we've led. 
 
 18
 
 So go on your way with a laugh and a song, 
 And sail on contentment's sea; 
 
 Live just for today, as you journey along: 
 Tomorrow may never be. 
 
 Oh, it's great to be able to go where you will, 
 
 Wherever your heart decrees; 
 But go, while you can, to the sun-crested 
 hill, 
 
 Where happiness warms the breeze. 
 
 A BIT O' HEAVEN 
 
 A little bit of sunshine 
 
 And the mellow of the moon, 
 Then the silver dust of starshine, 
 
 With the perfumed breath of June, 
 And the glisten of the skyways 
 
 Through their endless lanes of blue: 
 That's my wish for thee and thy days, 
 
 And I'm praying 'twill come true. 
 
 19
 
 THE U. S. MARINES 
 
 You'll find Marines where'er you go, 
 
 In ev'ry old place on earth, 
 'Neath torrid sun, in fields of snow, 
 
 Protecting our home and hearth. 
 
 They are here and there, they are ev'ry- 
 
 where, 
 
 This glorious, great machine; 
 They tackle the jobs that depend on pluck, 
 And they finish 'em too, with their usual 
 
 luck, 
 The lads o' the U. S. Marine. 
 
 On foreign shore, in Yankeeland, 
 
 Wherever a ship has sailed, 
 They do their bit, and lend a hand, 
 
 When some other chap has failed. 
 
 Oh, you'll find 'em all, when the bugles 
 
 call, 
 
 The first on the battle-green, 
 And the last to leave, when the fight is 
 
 o'er, 
 For they'll stick and they'll beg for a little 
 
 more, 
 
 The lads o' the U. S. Marine. 
 20
 
 The world to them is Home, Sweet Home, 
 
 On land or the far-flung sea, 
 Their roof is heaven's star-lit dome, 
 
 The breeze is their symphony. 
 
 And they fight their fight with a heart that's 
 
 light, 
 
 With ever a jolly mein, 
 And it's woe to the fools who would bar 
 
 their way, 
 For there's nothing on earth that can stem 
 
 their sway, 
 The lads o' the U. S. Marine. 
 
 So here's that Luck may keep apace, 
 Wherever their feet may tread, 
 
 And here's that Fortune's smiling grace 
 May follow where'er they're led. 
 
 For it's great to know that the wondrous 
 
 glow 
 
 That radiates Freedom's sheen, 
 Will be ever as bright as their hearts are true, 
 For they'll fight to the last for the Red, 
 
 White and Blue, 
 The lads o' the U. S. Marine. 
 
 Dedicated to the United States Marine Corps. 
 21
 
 OLDEN MELODIES 
 
 It's strange that the songs that we hear 
 
 today, 
 
 In the vaudeville show and the cabaret, 
 Are never as sweet as the songs of old 
 That mother had sung when our hair was 
 
 gold. 
 There were "Sweet Annie Laurie" and 
 
 "Old Black Joe," 
 "Love's Old Sweet Song," "Sweet Winds 
 
 That Blow," 
 "Way down in Dixie" and "Auld Lang 
 
 Syne," 
 "The Old Folks At Home" and "Sweet 
 
 Adeline." 
 
 And "Lead Kindly Light," I can see her 
 
 now, 
 With her silvered hair and her wrinkled 
 
 brow, 
 
 With her dear old hand on my curly head, 
 As she tucked me so gently away to bed; 
 I can feel her breath and her loving kiss, 
 So earnest and free from all artifice: 
 And I've learned, ah, yes, I have learned 
 
 since then 
 
 22
 
 Why the songs of youth are the strength of 
 men. 
 
 For in ev'ry word, in each lingering tone, 
 Rings the sound of an old sweet voice 
 
 we've known, 
 
 And we see in each song of the long ago 
 A hallowed face in the firelight glow, 
 A face we have drawn on mem'ry's page, 
 And framed with the blooms of love's 
 
 foliage : 
 
 A song of to-day is just a song, 
 The others, mem'ries of loved ones gone. 
 
 JUST A MINUTE, PLEASE 
 
 Before you send your letter, read it over, 
 And hold your speech until your wrath 
 
 has fled, 
 
 For 'tis better far to wait, 
 Tho your answer may be late. 
 Than say the things you should have 
 left unsaid.
 
 WORK AND PLAY 
 
 Work while you work, with all your heart, 
 
 Work with a right good will, 
 Analyze ev'ry task in part, 
 
 Sense ev'ry effort's thrill. 
 
 Play while you play, with all your soul, 
 
 Play to the lilt of song, 
 Play as you work, and lo! your goal 
 
 Will come to be real ere long. 
 
 RAIN 
 
 I love the melody of rain, 
 With cooling, whispered, soft refrain; 
 For while it falls I seem to see 
 The world a garden-plot; and we 
 Are flowers, each a different bloom, 
 In sun-kissed patch or shadow-gloom; 
 While angels stand on silvered blue 
 And sprinkle us with heaven's dew: 
 That's why I love the song of rain, 
 With cooling, whispered, soft refrain. 
 
 24
 
 MY STAR 
 
 One summer night, while I wandered alone, 
 Near the bank of a gliding stream, 
 
 I caught a star, as it slid to the earth 
 On the shaft of a late sunbeam. 
 
 With tender care then I carried it off, 
 O'er my life's rocky winding road; 
 
 And marveled much at its wondrous light, 
 As it lifted my sorrow's load. 
 
 My days grew brighter, my nights were less 
 drear, 
 
 All the world seemed enriched by love; 
 The trials of life that had burdened my soul 
 
 Were all lost in the clouds above. 
 
 The years rolled by, and I lived in content, 
 For my heart greater joy ne'er sought; 
 
 The star that brightened my life was naught 
 
 else 
 But a simple, unselfish thought. 
 
 25
 
 LEARN TO SMILE BY THE WAY 
 
 A man with a frown and a man with a smile 
 Once met on Life's Road at the old turning 
 
 stile. 
 "You seem unconcerned," said the first with 
 
 a sneer, 
 "For a man who has treacherous pitfalls 
 
 to fear. 
 
 I've worried along till I'm worn and grey." 
 And the other said, "You should have 
 
 smiled by the way." 
 
 "I've had many troubles, my heart has 
 
 been bled; 
 The joys that were mine are now withered 
 
 and dead. 
 I'm treading this path not from fancy, my 
 
 friend, 
 But because not far off is the long-wished- 
 
 for end. 
 I've seen aught but darkness, no dawning 
 
 of day." 
 And the other said, "You should have 
 
 smiled by the way." 
 
 26
 
 "I know what it means," said the man with 
 
 the smile, 
 "To have my heart wrung every cruel, 
 
 weary mile. 
 My life has meant suffering, my way has 
 
 been long, 
 But still I have not grown deaf to Hope's 
 
 song. 
 And every drear winter to me has been 
 
 May, 
 Because I have learned to smile by the 
 
 way." 
 
 IF 
 
 If you meet the world with a heart that's 
 light, 
 
 If you work with a laugh and song, 
 If you tread the path where the sun is bright, 
 
 You will win, though the path be long.
 
 UNCLE 
 
 I've got th' finest uncle 
 
 That anyone ever had, 
 He's jus' 's nice 's he kin be, 
 
 Ain't never cross like dad. 
 
 I told m' mother tother day 
 
 She made a big mistake 
 In marryin' dad instead o' him 
 
 Well we nearly had a wake! 
 
 Ma grabbed me by th' collar, 
 An' laid me crost her knee, 
 
 Took her slipper, heel an' all, 
 Then how she walloped me ! 
 
 "T' talk about yer pa like that, 
 Y' most on-grateful child." 
 
 With ev'ry word th' slipper fell: 
 Ma's temper isn't mild. 
 
 "I'll teach y' t' respect yer pa, 
 Or know th' reason why." 
 
 I squirmed an' yelled, "If I tell link, 
 He'll punch 'im in th' eye!" 
 
 An' then who comes a-strollin' in 
 But Uncle. " Well," says he, 
 
 28
 
 "I hear as 'ow a pal o' mine 
 Is needin' help from me." 
 
 An' then, o' course, ma has t' stop 
 
 A-lammin' me, an' Unk 
 He lifts me up an' sees me smile, 
 
 An' says, "Well, you've got spunk!" 
 
 He asked ma what I went an' did, 
 But ma jus' squirmed around; 
 
 She didn't dare t' tell th' truth, 
 For gosh ! how that would sound. 
 
 So Unk an' I slipped t' th' shed, 
 
 An' there I told 'im all; 
 He scratched his head an' coughed a lot, 
 
 An' answered with a drawl: 
 
 "I wouldn't be too hard on pa 
 
 If I were you, m' lad, 
 'Cause family scraps, t' say th' least, 
 
 Are werry, werry bad." 
 
 "But you ain't skeered o' dad," I cried. 
 
 "O' course I'm not," said he, 
 4< But I owe dad a favor, 
 
 Cause he did one once for me." 
 29
 
 An' then he laughed, an' laughed, an 1 
 laughed, 
 
 An' hugged me for a spell; 
 I asked 'im what th' favor was, 
 
 An' promised not t' tell. 
 
 At last he whispered in my ear: 
 
 "He saved my life, m' lad. 
 He won your ma instead o' me!" 
 
 We both said: "Poor old dad!" 
 
 THE YEAR OF YEARS 
 
 Start the year with a word of cheer, 
 
 Start the year with a smile; 
 Laughter chases the shadows drear, 
 
 Laughter the days beguile. 
 
 Tread the path where the sun is high, 
 
 Walk where the flowers grow; 
 Place your hopes in a star-lit sky, 
 
 Up where the planets glow. 
 
 Search for joy in the shadow-days, 
 
 Smile till the tear-mist clears; 
 Friend o'mine, in a million ways, 
 
 Make it the year of years! 
 
 30
 
 LIFE'S ROOM 
 
 I've a little room where I live alone, 
 
 And the walls of the room are bare: 
 A peaceful nook of a sombre tone, 
 
 For nobody enters there, 
 Lest it be the Ghosts of my Yesterday, 
 
 Or the Dreams of my days unborn, 
 Or the Shades that people my quiet way 
 
 Of mem'ries I love and mourn. 
 
 And I watch the world, as it passes by, 
 
 Through the window that lights my soul : 
 Its ceaseless tread, like a mighty sigh, 
 
 Goes up to the heavens' bowl; 
 I close my eyes to its gilded shrine 
 
 And shrink from its drone and moan, 
 And I thank my God for the peace that's 
 mine, 
 
 In the room where I dwell alone. 
 
 HAPPINESS 
 
 Happiness is yours to take, 
 Happiness is yours to make, 
 So seek it ever, keep it, too: 
 'Twill chase away life's sombre hue. 
 
 31
 
 IT'S A GOOD OLD WORLD 
 
 This criticized world is a pretty good place, 
 If you take all your woes with the right 
 
 kind of grace, 
 And learn to find good in your sorrow and 
 
 pain, 
 And to watch for the sunshine that follows 
 
 the rain. 
 
 I know that the world has a mighty blue 
 
 tinge 
 Oftentimes; but, my friend, if you just oil 
 
 the hinge, 
 Your door will swing open and let La the 
 
 light 
 That will put all your little blue devils to 
 
 flight. 
 
 In all, life is just what we make it, you know, 
 And we reap smiles or sighs from the seeds 
 
 that we sow; 
 Then the right thing to do is to plant seeds 
 
 of joy, 
 And to smile at the heart-breaks that try 
 
 to destroy.
 
 POSITIVE NEGATIVE 
 
 The world hasn't time for the gelatine- 
 spined, 
 
 For the timid, the weak, or the negative 
 kind; 
 
 It looks to the man with the positive force, 
 
 With the courage that comes from a posi 
 tive source. 
 
 So think then and act in a positive way, 
 And you'll learn that the things that had 
 
 brought you dismay 
 
 Will leave, as all negative bugaboos do, 
 When they meet with the strength that is 
 
 latent in you. 
 
 BABY 
 
 Two starry eyes look into mine, 
 
 As though to read my soul, 
 Two cupid lips part with a smile 
 
 That makes a torn life whole; 
 Two chubby hands caress my cheek, 
 
 Its furrows disappear, 
 Two little arms entwine my neck, 
 
 And Paradise is here.
 
 TH' COIN'S HARD 
 
 Th' goin's hard when you're down an' out, 
 
 With never a helpin' hand 
 T' grasp your own, as you grope about, 
 
 With no one t' understand; 
 Th' road is hard an' th' road is long, 
 
 You hunger for just th' glow 
 Of a friendly face or a cheery song, 
 
 Th' goin' is hard, I know. 
 
 But there's somethin' down in th' depth 
 o' you, 
 
 Somethin' that burns an' sears, 
 Somethin' that sort o' helps you thru, 
 
 Somethin' that stops your tears; 
 It points th' way thru th' heavy night, 
 
 An' it whispers in accents low: 
 "You'll win you must if your heart is 
 light, 
 
 But th' goin' is hard, I know." 
 
 Then you set your jaw an' you clench your 
 
 fist, 
 
 An' you breathe with your head held 
 high, 
 
 34
 
 While you search around for th' chance 
 
 you missed, 
 
 T' give it another try; 
 An' you put your shoulder against th' 
 
 wheel, 
 
 Your life in your sluggin' blow, 
 An' you smash your way with a will o' steel, 
 Oh, the goin' is hard, I know. 
 
 At last you come t' th' open road, 
 
 Th' day that was lost is won; 
 Peace deserved is your heart's abode, 
 
 Its light is th' dawning sun; 
 You won your fight by yourself you think. 
 
 Poor fool! 'Twill be ever so. 
 'Twas God who turned you from Failure's 
 brink, 
 
 When th' goin' was hard, you know. 
 
 JUST DAD 
 
 That's what I always want you to be, 
 Without any frills, just Dad to me: 
 A sort of a pal, and the best of friends, 
 Someone to point where the roadway wends; 
 Someone to smile when my heart is sad> 
 The kind of a friend I need, just Dad.
 
 EVERYONE DOES IT 
 
 I used to live in a great big house of seven 
 teen rooms, or more, 
 
 With gorgeous frescoes on ev'ry wall, and 
 an obstinate oak front door, 
 
 With halls as spacious as mountain caves, 
 and alcoves of fearful size, 
 
 With saintly figures on ev'ry pane, and 
 pictures that scandalize. 
 
 The tapestries were of lustrous sheen and 
 
 hung in a wealth around, 
 The rugs and carpets were soft and rich 
 
 and covered a hardwood ground, 
 The furniture was of massive style, the 
 
 stairways were steep and long, 
 The house was truly a kingly place, but 
 
 somehow it seemed all wrong. 
 
 It seemed so cold and it seemed so drear, 
 
 there wasn't the warmth of home, 
 I felt as tho I were swallowed up, I hated 
 
 its ghostly gloam, 
 My voice would echo thru ev'ry room, 
 
 like spirits of other days, 
 I feared to traverse the corridors, bereft 
 
 of the sunlight's rays. 
 36
 
 At last we followed the social bent, we 
 
 took an apartment, yes 
 We left the house with the yawning porch, 
 
 the house that was conscienceless; 
 We took the things that we needed most, 
 
 the things that would fit, you know, 
 The bric-a-brac and the spindle-chairs, and 
 
 pieces to make a "show." 
 
 And now we've learned how to laugh and 
 
 live, we didn't know how before, 
 We've learned to cook in a kitchenette, to 
 
 smile at our neighbor's snore, 
 We've learned that life is a stave of song, 
 
 and strange as it all may seem, 
 We've learned to love in a different way, 
 
 and to steed our neighbor's cream! 
 
 THE NICHE 
 
 There's a place for you in the world, my lad, 
 There's a niche you are destined to fill, 
 
 But you must be brave and you must be 
 
 glad, 
 And the soil of your life you must till. 
 
 37
 
 THE NE'ER-DO-WELL 
 
 Bill was the clerk in the general store, 
 
 merely a clerk and nothing more, 
 The only friends that he had in town were 
 
 the ne'er-do-wells and his rabbit-houn', 
 For Bill was a ne'er-do-well himself, with 
 
 nary a thought of worldly pelf, 
 And nobody cared if he lived or died and 
 
 perhaps that's the reason he never tried. 
 
 The villagers used to vow that Bill would 
 
 some day burgle the grocery till, 
 And they wisely ventured the solemn hope 
 
 that he'd pass away at the end of a rope; 
 They'd lay their children across their knee 
 
 whenever they sought his company, 
 So the town oft rang with their youthful 
 
 wails, for the kids loved Bill and his 
 
 bandit tales. 
 
 But Bill never sinned, the record shows, he 
 
 just liked to loaf, which only goes 
 To prove that Bill wasn't truly bad, for 
 
 loafing is really a social fad; 
 So he lived his life as he wanted to, though 
 
 the townsfolk flayed him black-and-blue, 
 And at every sneer he'd smile and say: 
 
 "Wai, I ain't no hypocrite, anyway." 
 38
 
 And then the day of the Great War came, 
 
 and they called for men to play the 
 
 game, 
 A squad of regulars, bronze of face, set up 
 
 a tent in the market-place, 
 And they asked for men to volunteer, they 
 
 warned the Draft was drawing near, 
 But the stolid workers who tilled the land 
 
 seemed, somehow, not to understand. 
 
 They wanted someone to lead the way, 
 
 someone to step right up and say: 
 "Who is the next to follow me across the 
 
 sea to victory?" 
 Of course, you've guessed 'twas Bill who 
 
 came and made his mark beside his 
 
 name; 
 He said no word as he walked away, but 
 
 a lot more signed the roll that day. 
 
 Then they left for camp, these volunteers, 
 
 amid a storm of sobs and cheers, 
 But not a soul in the little town, not a 
 
 living thing, save a rabbit-houn', 
 Had come to the station to say farewell, or to 
 
 wish good-luck to the ne'er-do-well: 
 A whine was the only sob he heard, tho 
 
 to him 'twas more than a spoken word. 
 39
 
 And soon they'd quite forgotten him, when 
 
 passing months left memories dim, 
 Until one day his name they read among the 
 
 missing and the dead; 
 The message told how he had faced a hail 
 
 of lead, and how he'd raced 
 Across the gory, cratered lands to tear our 
 
 flag from Hunnish hands. 
 
 How thru the smoke where waiting Death 
 
 crouched, panther-like, with fevered 
 
 breath 
 To sear each life that passed its way, he 
 
 fought, a Devil-dog at bay, 
 He hewed, he smashed, he killed, and then 
 
 he brought the flag back home again. 
 The ne'er-do-well had played the game; the 
 
 village bowed its head in shame. 
 
 And now of Bill they spoke with pride 
 throughout the peaceful countryside, 
 
 They said he'd never been real bad, not 
 Bill, no, no, not really bad! 
 
 But just a lad who liked to play, to while 
 the weary hours away. 
 
 And thus in life we all await the rose with 
 held that blooms too late. 
 40
 
 But soon from out the battle fray another 
 
 message winged its way, 
 Congratulating all the town, for Bill had 
 
 lived to bring renown 
 Where none had ever been before; and then 
 
 a mighty, joyous roar 
 Was sent across each rolling hill, across the 
 
 seas, across to Bill! 
 
 At last he came, their native son, to claim 
 the heritage he'd won; 
 
 The Stars-and-Stripes were everywhere, tri 
 umphant rang the trumpet's blare. 
 
 But was it Bill, or just his ghost, this wasted 
 form that faced the host, 
 
 Whose blood-shot eyes roamed all around, 
 whose lips framed : " Where's m' rabbit- 
 houn'?" 
 
 But ev'ry history must end, so ere our 
 
 separate paths we wend, 
 We'll look on Bill in health and ease, a 
 
 shaggy head upon his knees; 
 We find them where they were before, 
 
 except it's now Bill's general store, 
 Presented by the town itself, and Bill's 
 
 own till is on the shelf. 
 41
 
 VAULTING SUNBEAMS 
 
 (Nestor to the Greek generals: "The secret 
 of victory is in getting a good ready.") 
 
 He carried a book every place that he went, 
 
 And he bracketed thoughts that he read : 
 The people would smile at the studious chap, 
 
 And we think that we know what they 
 
 said; 
 
 They called him eccentric, and possibly 
 worse, 
 
 It's a trait of the masses, you know, 
 To jeer at the fellow ambitious to climb 
 
 Where they haven't courage to go. 
 
 He studied the things that he thought he 
 
 would need 
 
 When his big opportunity came, 
 The things that develop and make for suc 
 cess, 
 
 That help men to win at life's game; 
 He seemed not to notice the smiles of the 
 
 crowds, 
 
 But clung to his books with a vim, 
 Yes, he clung to his books, to his dreams, 
 
 to his hopes, 
 Though the world went on smiling at him. 
 
 42
 
 At last, when Discouragement stalked at 
 
 his side, 
 
 Quite apparently certain to win, 
 When Failure cavorted grotesquely about, 
 With the mockery of Fate's harlequin, 
 When effort seemed wasted and faith had 
 
 grown cold, 
 
 When his dreams lost their bright, cheer 
 ful hue, 
 
 He heard Opportunity knock at his door, 
 And a voice said: "I've come, lad, for 
 you." 
 
 "I'm ready!" he cried, with resolve in his 
 
 heart, 
 
 "I'm ready to take to the road." 
 "That's why I am here," Opportunity said. 
 
 Then off to the hill-top he rode. 
 And those who had scoffed at him watched 
 
 from afar, 
 
 As he vaulted each sunbeam and cloud, 
 And most of them wished that he'd tumble 
 
 to earth, 
 But he just couldn't follow the crowd! 
 
 43
 
 ME AN' JIM 
 
 Sometime I git in a thoughtful mood, 
 When m' pipe's 'bout right, an' I sit 'n 
 
 brood 
 
 'Bout why things is an' why things ain't 
 (But o' course not meanin' no complaint) 
 Jest a confidential revery, 
 With no one 'round t' disagree. 
 
 Y 'd be surprised if y' really knew 
 
 What a heap o' comfort an' pleasure, too, 
 
 I git with Jimmy Jim's m' dog 
 
 'Fore a laughin', cracklin', blazin' log, 
 
 With th' wind a-howlin' dismal out, 
 
 An' not a livin' soul about. 
 
 'Cause Jim believes everything I say 
 Never does no questionin' 'bout date or 
 
 day; 
 
 An' that's a thing I like, y' know: 
 If I fib a bit he lets it go. 
 Though a argyment on facts alone 
 Is most like chops with jest th' bone. 
 
 An' po'try laws! WTiy it comes t' me 
 By th' foot an' yard jest as natchely; 
 
 44
 
 There ain't no rhyme, or like o' that, 
 An' I guess it might read kind o' flat; 
 But it seems t' come from th' heart o' me 
 A sort o' home-made symphony. 
 
 An' I travels then t' th' days gone by, 
 When m' back was straight an' m' step 
 
 was spry; 
 
 An' through th' smoke I see a face 
 That all life's sunshine can't replace; 
 An' I try t' smile, but sigh instead 
 For th' joy that came, th' joy that fled. 
 
 An' then I strive for t' hum a song, 
 With old Jim's tail beatin' time all wrong : 
 A song I used t' hear her sing, 
 When th' days t' us were al'ays spring; 
 But m' throat gits choaked an' m' eyes 
 
 grow dim, 
 An' I says: "Tain't much use tryin', Jim." 
 
 An' Jim he knows for he comes t' me 
 An' licks m' hands so consolingly; 
 I jest don't trust m'self t' speak, 
 'Cause I'm feelin' kind o' sad and meek, 
 With th' fire burnin' mighty low 
 An' a-throwin' out a cheerless glow. 
 45
 
 But I stirs it up with a log or two, 
 
 For I jest can't stand gettin' drear and 
 
 blue; 
 
 M' pipe's most out, so I lights it up, 
 Then I take a teeny-weeny sup; 
 An' I says: "Things might be worser, Jim, 
 So let's keep right on trustin' Him." 
 
 "FISHIN" 
 
 "Let's go a-fishin', Mary." 
 
 "Begorry, an' let's" sez she. 
 An' thin wid our rods, an' OUT lines an' 
 
 things, 
 We go to th' wood where th' brooklet sings, 
 
 As happy as we kin be. 
 
 " Fishin' is foine," sez Mary, 
 
 "Indade, an' it's great," sez Oi. 
 An' divil a fish'll we ketch all day, 
 A fishermen's luck, but a lover's pay, 
 Kissin' is better, thinks Oi. 
 
 46
 
 GO T' SLEEP, HONEY 
 
 Hush, a-baby, close yo' eyes, 
 
 An' go right off t' sleep; 
 Great, big goblin comin' sure 
 
 T' ketch yo' ef yo' peep. 
 
 'Taint no use t' make a fuss 
 
 Yo' better snuggle tight; 
 'Spect I'se gwain t' play wif yo' 
 
 All day an' half de night? 
 
 Ebenin's growin' mighty late, 
 
 De birds am gone t' nest; 
 Eb'ry thing wif eyes t' close 
 
 Hab shut 'em tight in rest. 
 
 Mammy's gettin' tired, too, 
 Jes' 'cause de moon's so bright; 
 
 Gwain t' go t' bed ma self, 
 
 Good-night, dear chile, good-night. 
 
 47
 
 DREAMS 
 
 There is something fine La the world for you, 
 Something that you are meant to do, 
 Something the future holds in store 
 Only for you on Tomorrow's shore. 
 
 Something you crave in the dreams you 
 
 dream, 
 Something that glows in the twilight's 
 
 gleam, 
 
 Never forgotten, ever bright, 
 Bright with the hope of a dawning light. 
 
 Then when the night clouds have rolled 
 
 away, 
 
 Sunbeams will radiantly clothe your day, 
 Showing the path that is yours to tread, 
 Lighting the way where your dreams have 
 
 led. 
 
 Then will you learn that the dream-god 
 
 knew 
 
 All of the work that is yours to do, 
 Knew very well that since life began 
 Dreams are the things that mould the man. 
 
 48
 
 THE STRENGTH OF YOUTH 
 
 I heard a voice. 
 
 In vibrant, ringing tone it bid me wait. 
 I named my choice. 
 
 Impetuous youth cried out 'twould be too 
 late. 
 
 And so I tried. 
 
 Spurred on by hope I faced my future's sun. 
 
 The voice had lied. 
 
 I struck with my unerring youth and won. 
 
 MOODS 
 
 Be careful of moods; they are dang'rous 
 
 things, 
 
 Especially the profligate mood that brings 
 A deep discontent with the work you do, 
 That vitiates all that is fine in you. 
 
 Encourage the mood with the plenitude 
 Of vision to see but the rainbow-hued; 
 Absorb all the good that the world can 
 
 give, 
 And soon you will find joy intuitive.
 
 THE GLORY OF FAILURE 
 
 If each loved heart were lost to me on earth, 
 And every cherished dream in ashes lay, 
 If every hope that I had deemed of worth 
 Had passed into the night from sanguine 
 
 day; 
 
 If everything that I hold dear my friends, 
 My inmost loves, my fondest joys, had 
 
 died, 
 I'd thank my God, who every judgment 
 
 sends, 
 
 For e'en my failures knowing I had 
 tried. 
 
 A THUNK 
 
 Very often, when you think a thought, you 
 
 haven't thunk a thing, 
 So you think the thought you thought you 
 
 thunk anew; 
 Now, the thought I think I thought I thunk 
 
 has such a friendly ring, 
 That I think I'll send the thought I thunk 
 
 to you: 
 
 " Good luck, good cheer and a never- 
 fading smile." 
 
 50
 
 PERSUASION 
 
 Hey there, fellers, come on in, 
 
 Water's fine, y'bet; 
 Gee! I wouldn't be a coward, 
 
 'Fraid o' gettin' wet. 
 
 Aw, gowan, I ain't a-shiverin, 
 
 Betcher life I'm not; 
 Watch me duck, here goes, ca-splash! 
 
 Oof! It's a-1-m-o-s-t h-o-t. 
 
 Go and look for Deacon Brown, 
 An' tell him where I've been; 
 
 Let 'im holler, I don't care, 
 Swimmin' ain't no sin. 
 
 Aw, come on, kids, what's the odds, 
 
 Folks won't know t'hum: 
 That's the ticket, wade in slow, 
 
 Gee ! I know'd y 'd come.
 
 THE BRIGHT THINGS OF LIFE 
 
 A thought that is winged from a friend 
 
 to a friend, 
 
 Doesn't seem such a wonderful thing; 
 Yet it carries the prayer for a joy without 
 
 end, 
 And it throbs with a big, friendly ring. 
 
 A mere word of cheer, in the shadow of 
 
 night, 
 
 When discouragement darkens the way, 
 Will illumine our hearts with the glorious 
 
 light 
 Of a hopeful and sun-brightened day. 
 
 When failure confronts us and darkens our 
 
 goals, 
 
 How we long for the clasp of a hand! 
 It is then that we cry from the depths of 
 
 OUT souls, 
 For a friend who can just understand. 
 
 A bright, cheery smile often gives us the 
 
 strength 
 That we lack in the vortex of strife,
 
 For it lightens our load, as we travel the 
 
 length 
 Of the care-laden path we call Life. 
 
 So we find, after all, that the things we 
 
 thought small, 
 
 Loom colossal above all the host; 
 That the best of God's gifts are the friends 
 
 we can call 
 To our side when we need them the most. 
 
 HOW TO LIVE 
 
 Give me your hand when I need it most, 
 Give me your smile when I'm sad, 
 
 Speak but a word to my idle boast, 
 Teach me to live and be glad. 
 
 Teach me to follow the righteous way, 
 Show me life's worthiest plan, 
 
 Teach me to live it day by day, 
 Help me to be a man! 
 
 53
 
 THE TAIL OF A DOG 
 
 A little dog's tail is a wonderful thing, 
 
 For it wags all the livelong day: 
 And whether the dog be a hybrid or king, 
 
 The tail is a tail alway; 
 Its shape and its size never matter at all, 
 
 It's the wag that is worth the while, 
 Por its tempo allegro is constant withal, 
 
 And that is our doggie's smile. 
 
 It welcomes us home, it bids us good-by, 
 
 And we know it will never fail; 
 We'd miss it as much as the blue of the sky, 
 
 This wag of our doggie's tail: 
 For in each joyous sway is the beat of his 
 heart, 
 
 Full of love that is free from guile, 
 And the wealth of the world wouldn't move 
 us to part 
 
 With the wag that is doggie's smile.
 
 YOUR WORTH 
 
 The world takes a man at his own valua 
 tion, 
 
 No matter how high it may be, 
 But it asks that the proof of the verification 
 
 Be shown in his own industry. 
 
 The best gifts of life are the crown of the 
 
 worker, 
 
 And toil is the seed he must sow, 
 While failure and anguish will follow the 
 
 shirker, 
 So plant fertile deeds as you go. 
 
 TRY 
 
 It matters not what your work may be, 
 
 If only you do it well, 
 If only you do it joyously, 
 
 If only you feel its spell. 
 
 It matters not if you win your quest, 
 
 Or fail in your bold attempt; 
 If only you Tried to do your best, 
 
 Your conscience will be "exempt." 
 
 55
 
 MAN'S CREED 
 
 Turn your face to the Eastward, and look 
 
 to the rising sun. 
 The sorrows that seared the bygone years 
 
 are victories you have won. 
 
 Fight in the sunlit open, for Truth will 
 
 defeat Despair. 
 Success is the tribute fairly won by those 
 
 who will do and dare. 
 
 Tomorrow is yours to cope with. Think 
 
 not of yesterday, 
 But place your hopes high upon the rocks, 
 
 and cast your fears away. 
 
 Life is yours to be moulded, so do with it 
 
 as you should. 
 And if God wills you should win, or lose, 
 
 you have done the best you could. 
 
 56
 
 THE BIRTH OF OLD GLORY 
 
 'Twas God Who took from heaven's dome 
 The stars that were twinkling there, 
 
 And the glist'ning light of the fleecy white 
 Enfolding the cloud-banks fair; 
 
 He took from the roses their deepest red, 
 From violets their azure hue, 
 
 So we call the bars and the fielded stars 
 
 The Red, 
 
 White, 
 
 and Blue! 
 
 PLAN TODAY 
 
 There's naught upon Tomorrow's page, 
 
 The scroll awaits your pen; 
 Tomorrow is your heritage, 
 
 And ne'er will come again. 
 
 But if Tomorrow is to be 
 
 A wondrous day and strong, 
 Pray plan Today, and keep it free 
 
 From everything save song. 
 
 57
 
 THE GIRL WHO'S MISUNDERSTOOD 
 
 The church folk sneer at the chorus girl, 
 
 and call her a thing of shame, 
 And they hem and haw in their holy awe 
 
 at the very sound of her name; 
 They are bound to state that the lady's fate 
 
 was shaped by the devil's hand, 
 So they pass her with a dread "Oh, my!" 
 
 for they just don't understand. 
 
 The path they tread is a narrow one, and 
 
 their world is a little place, 
 For they judge a soul and its future goal 
 
 by the smile of a pretty face; 
 And it's their belief that a crowning grief 
 
 and the pain of an aching heart, 
 Do not belong to the girl of song who 
 
 struggles from them apart. 
 
 So the righteous world, with its heavy pride, 
 
 strides haughtily on its way: 
 It fears to go where the calciums glow, for 
 
 what would the neighbors say? 
 So it turns its head, in its Christian dread, 
 
 and pockets its helping hand; 
 But 'twill ever be through eternity, for 
 
 the world can't understand. 
 58
 
 "ARGUED BY THE WORKIN' MAN" 
 
 Sez Paddy Flynn t' me lasht noight, sez he: 
 "Begobs, me bye, it's gettin' purty bad 
 Whin wimmin folks, t' satisfy a fad, 
 Air takin' jobs frim ye an' me, me lad; 
 
 Sez Oi to ye, sez Oi, it shouldn't be." 
 
 At thot Oi ups an' answers widout fear: 
 "Indade, wid yez, me frind, Oi don't 
 
 agree; 
 
 Fer anny mon would not contented be 
 Widout a gel t' run th' famalee; 
 
 A maid," sez Oi, "is born t' injineer." 
 
 THE SOUL OF A FRIEND 
 
 A little smile once in a while, 
 
 The meaning clasp of a hand, 
 A word of hope, as we onward grope 
 
 Toward the shore of our wonderland; 
 A bit of praise in our shadow-days, 
 
 A song to our journey's end: 
 Ah, this to me is life's symphony 
 
 And it's all in the soul of a friend! 
 
 59
 
 I WONDER IF IT'S LOVE 
 
 When a fellow thinks continually of a cer 
 tain charming girl, 
 
 And carries in his watch case a little golden 
 curl, 
 
 If he quite forgets his breakfast, or departs 
 without his tie, 
 
 Or, perchance, should stare in vacancy and 
 
 pass his friends right by, 
 I wonder if it's love. 
 
 If he argues with his tailor 'bout the clothes 
 
 that he should wear, 
 And buys the best imported oils to grease 
 
 his rumpled hair, 
 If his view of politics is changed because of 
 
 woman's rights, 
 Or if he speaks respectfully to girls he 
 
 thought were frights, 
 I wonder if it's love. 
 
 If he wanders through a jewelry store and 
 
 asks the price of rings, 
 Explaining that his sister fancies all such 
 
 foolish things, 
 
 60
 
 If he starts to save his salary, looks at 
 
 bargain real estate, 
 If he claims that no good citizen should be 
 
 a celibate, 
 I wonder if it's love. 
 
 If he stands outside her window on a 
 cold and blustry night, 
 
 Just to see her shadow flick'ring on the 
 shade against the light, 
 
 If he reads the plays of Shakespeare, learn 
 ing phrases quite by heart, 
 
 With the thought that he will speak one 
 when from her he'll have to part, 
 I wonder if it's love. 
 
 I am seeking imformation, for I'd like to 
 
 know, you see, 
 Whether all the things I've mentioned are 
 
 as they should really be; 
 Should I see a good physician, by his 
 
 learned word abide, 
 Or a recommended clergyman, I really 
 
 can't decide, 
 But I'm wondering if it's love. 
 
 61
 
 THE YOUTH OF TOMORROW 
 
 We're all of us children grown up, 
 But gone is the gold of the buttercup 
 That gilded our hair in our yesterdays, 
 And gone is the sweetness of childhood's 
 ways. 
 
 Oh, why do we leave all the joy behind 
 That could be so easily with age combined, 
 The joy that we crave when our years 
 
 unfold 
 And leave but the spectre of Youth grown 
 
 old. 
 
 BETTER 'N NONE 
 
 She had a pinkish bonnet, with a bunch o' 
 
 flowers on it 
 
 And a lot o' ribbon trailing from the back; 
 But, alas! 'twas old from wearing, so the 
 
 maiden, coy and daring, 
 Took the trimmin's off and dyed the bonnet 
 
 black. 
 
 62
 
 THE COST 
 
 He made his prayer to a dollar bill, 
 
 (The most of us do, you know) 
 He cared not a bit for the rook or rill, 
 For the laughing brook or the friendly hill, 
 Or the whisp'ring winds that blow. 
 
 He grew as hard as his worshiped gold, 
 
 His heart was a piece of stone; 
 The prime of life found him bent and old, 
 With features stern and with soul grown 
 
 cold: 
 He walked through the world alone. 
 
 At last he realized the joy he'd lost, 
 And writhed at the sneer of Fate; 
 
 He searched for the flowers his greed had 
 cost, 
 
 He looked for love, but he found but frost: 
 The awakening had come too late! 
 
 SMILE YOUR WAY 
 
 Sighs and frowns are not for you, 
 Nor for anyone with work to do; 
 Keep well within the bounds of cheer. 
 And smile your way thruout the year. 
 
 63
 
 FRIENDSHIP'S MEMORY 
 
 It takes but a minute to say -good-bye, 
 But a mighty long time to forget, 
 
 With many a heartache, many a sigh, 
 And many a deep regret. 
 
 So make ev'ry friendship so fine and fair, 
 The essence of sweetest blends, 
 
 That only its fragrance will fill the air 
 O'er the roadway where memory wends. 
 
 FIGHT ON! 
 
 Never ask yourself the question: "Is my 
 
 effort worth the while; 
 Would it not be well to leave this task 
 
 undone?" 
 But remember strength is tested by an 
 
 honest, fearless trial; 
 
 And by effort goals are reached and 
 battles won.
 
 THE TRAIL 
 
 I very often wonder 
 
 What it's really all about, 
 The longing, and the waiting, 
 
 And the everlasting doubt, 
 The thinking if we'll make it 
 
 Much before we have to go : 
 I very often wonder 
 
 If the burning's worth the glow. 
 
 I ask myself the question, 
 
 Can Tomorrow's gain repay 
 All the sorrow and the anguish 
 
 That the struggle brings Today: 
 Is it truly worth the effort, 
 
 When we can't foresee the end, 
 This chasing after sunbeams 
 
 That with shadows ofttimes blend? 
 
 But I find my answer nestling 
 
 In the work I have to do, 
 In this very self-same struggle, 
 
 In the hope that's ever new: 
 And my heart grows strong with courage, 
 
 For I know that should I fail, 
 I'll have sounded life's deep meaning, 
 
 In my holding to the trail. 
 
 65
 
 MORE WAYS THAN ONE 
 
 Pat McDooin was a sailor whin he met 
 
 swate Nora Naylor; 
 It was thin he lost his head an' heart 
 
 complete, 
 But th' maiden wouldn't listen; said she 
 
 niver would be his'n 
 
 'Til he owned a rig'ler Trans-Atlantic 
 fleet. 
 
 "Phat's th' use o' gittin' married? I'd hev 
 
 more fer havin' tarried, 
 Sure, th' home Oi live in now is good 
 
 enough." 
 That's phat Nora towld her lover; thin he 
 
 vowed by all above her 
 That he'd hustle oop an' call her little 
 bluff. 
 
 Pat McDooin knew he niver could possess 
 
 a fleet t' win her, 
 So he formed a plan that listened good, 
 
 withal; 
 Whin her dad wint blue-fish selling, Patsy 
 
 burned his swateheart's dwelling; 
 Thin poor Nora hed no home at all, at all.
 
 Thin th' foxy Pat McDooin wid a vim pur 
 sued his wooin'. 
 "You hed besht," sez he, "fergit about 
 
 th' fleet." 
 "Sure," sez Nora, "Oi must give in, fer Oi 
 
 hev no place t' live in." 
 So she moved t' Patsy's shanty oop th' 
 street. 
 
 THY MESSENGER A FRIEND 
 
 I've always known that friends are sent 
 By God when we are sorely bent 
 
 Beneath our sorrow's load; 
 To urge us on by words of cheer, 
 To give us strength whece once was fear, 
 
 To point the straightest road. 
 
 So when our faith and hopes have flown, 
 When naught springs from the work we've 
 sown, 
 
 And failure marks the end, 
 Oh, God, then send some helping hand, 
 Someone Thou knows will understand 
 
 Thy messenger a friend. 
 
 67
 
 THAT'S WHY HE'S AN AMERICAN 
 
 An American never starts a thing 
 
 That he doesn't finish right, 
 And he's never content till the job is done, 
 
 With never an oversight; 
 When he says "I will!" he sets his jaw, 
 
 And crushes his way clear through, 
 And that's why he's an American, 
 
 He's learned to dare and do. 
 
 He has learned that a task that's worth the 
 while, 
 
 Is worthy to be well done, 
 And he isn't the sort to mutiny, 
 
 When the victory's all but won; 
 He isn't the sort to hem-and-haw, 
 
 And to pass the buck along, 
 And that's why he's an American, 
 
 He's there at the final gong. 
 
 He is there with a crashing, smashing punch, 
 
 He is there with a heart that's light, 
 And whatever he tackles, rest assured, 
 
 Will end in a. finished fight; 
 And there's nothing on earth that'll change 
 his mind, 
 
 68
 
 When he's in a fighting mood, 
 And that 's why he 's an American, 
 He comes of a fighting brood. 
 
 And whether the fight is his alone, 
 
 Or the fight of a nation 's host, 
 If the cause is just, he'll give his all, 
 
 And there'll be no idle boast; 
 He'll do and he'll give till the need shall 
 cease, 
 
 Till the right transcends the wrong, 
 And that' s why he 's an American, 
 
 And he's a hundred-million strong! 
 
 MOTHER 
 
 The world is a finer, better place, 
 For the love that glows in your kindly face, 
 For the smile that is constant, ever there, 
 For your cheer that banishes dark despair 
 For all that you are, for all you do, 
 Ah, the world is better for knowing you, 
 My Mother.
 
 BE LOYAL TO YOUR THOUGHTS 
 
 Be loyal to the thoughts that your heart 
 
 holds dear, 
 
 No matter what others may say; 
 Just laugh at the world and the cynic's 
 
 sneer, 
 And earnestly go your way. 
 
 For the world doesn't care for ideals, some 
 how, 
 
 Nor for him whom ideals imbue, 
 Yet will offer its hand and will make its 
 
 bow 
 To the man whose ideals come true. 
 
 It cares not a mite should he lose or win, 
 But says, with a knowing look: 
 
 "I told you so!" Then his name goes in 
 Or out of the world's big book. 
 
 So be loyal to the thoughts that your heart 
 holds dear, 
 
 A fig for the world, or less ! 
 Believe in yourself and you'll change its jeer 
 
 To a smile and a sweet caress. 
 
 70
 
 EACH PLAYS A PART 
 
 Dreamers are needed to pierce the to 
 morrow, 
 
 Idealists to visualize work to be done; 
 Each has a purpose that all well might 
 
 borrow 
 
 The purpose to point out the path to be 
 run. 
 
 Practical men have a like task before them, 
 The task to make possible dreams and 
 
 ideals, 
 
 Theirs is the office to test and explore them : 
 So all men, you see, are in Life's Balance- 
 wheels. 
 
 FAILURE 
 
 What if you fail in the task at hand? 
 
 Smile, carry on once more! 
 Rally your forces, then, full-manned, 
 
 Pull for another shore. 
 
 Failure but spurs on the optimist, 
 
 On to another goal, 
 Points out the way, if he'll but persist: 
 
 Failure gives strength to soul! 
 
 71
 
 TRAMP PHILOSOPHY 
 
 I say, pard! What's th' use o' worryin'? 
 'Tain't no use, honest 'tain't. What's th' 
 good o' goin' 'round a-lookin' black' an' 
 cussful like, a-makin' everybody miserable? 
 They's got t' give y' yer beans, anyhow; an' 
 water's 'bout as plentiful as hard luck. 
 Gowan out in th ' park an* load up on fresh 
 air; an' look at th' trees an' grass an* 
 flowers; it's cheap an' it's 'ealthy. Watch 
 th' river runnin' along peaceful an' quiet; 
 jump in, if y' wanter; won't hurt th' river. 
 Then come back again an' smile some 
 an' then some more. Gee, y' ain't got no 
 idee 'ow easy 'tis till y've tried. An' that's 
 gospel, too. 
 I say, pard! What's th' use o' worryin'? 
 
 EVERY DAY 
 
 Every day has its quota of smiles, 
 
 Every day has its laughter, 
 Every day has its joy that beguiles 
 
 And brightens the day that comes after.
 
 SMILE 
 
 You can capture the world with a smile, 
 
 if you will, 
 
 Where a grimace will turn it away, 
 For a grip of the hand, 
 Or a word that is bland, 
 Has the strength of a dynamic sway. 
 
 It's a smile that the busy old world com 
 prehends, 
 
 While a frown is a thing it detests; 
 So you may as well do 
 What the world asks of you, 
 If you hope to deserve its bequests. 
 
 LADY FAIR. 
 
 (Triolet) 
 
 In the clear summer air 
 
 There's a name I am hearing: * 
 It is yours, lady fair, 
 In the clear summer air. 
 Ah, my heart's in despair 
 
 With its music endearing, 
 In the clear summer air 
 
 There's a name I am hearing. 
 
 73
 
 THERE'S AN AWFUL LOT O' HAP 
 PINESS AROUND 
 
 When the line of your horizon has a gloomy 
 
 sort o' look, 
 
 WTien the sky you thought was blue 
 Has a blackish, angry hue, 
 Find a quiet, peaceful woodland hear the 
 
 laughter of the brook: 
 There's an awful lot o' happiness around. 
 
 When your heart is mighty heavy with a 
 
 sorrow you must bear, 
 When the sunbeams' dancing light 
 Fails to pierce your dreary night, 
 Try to listen in the darkness for the song 
 
 that's in the air: 
 There's an awful lot o' happiness around. 
 
 You will find it in the morning, at the very 
 
 break of day, 
 In the sun-lit afternoon, 
 In the myst'ry of the moon; 
 You can hear it in the treetops bidding all 
 
 the world be gay: 
 There's an awful lot o' happiness around. 
 
 74
 
 Everyone has had a heartache, everyone 
 
 has known grief, 
 But I'm sure that after pain 
 Joy has always come again, 
 Just as sunshine follows rain: 
 It is as our Lord intended, leastways that 
 
 is my belief: 
 There's an awful lot o' happiness around. 
 
 Sound the depths of simple pleasure, learn 
 
 the worth of being kind, 
 Let your watchword be a smile, 
 Do the things that seem worth while, 
 Then your life will be a symphony, and 
 
 you will surely find, 
 There's an awful lot o' happiness around. 
 
 IN MEMORY 
 
 Every breath of the wind that blows, 
 Every flake of the winter snows, 
 Every twig of the pine that grows, 
 
 Speaks to me of thee; 
 In my heart, when the Day is gone, 
 Through the years, be they drear or long, 
 You will live, as the lilt of song, 
 
 In my memory. 
 
 75
 
 SCANDAL 
 
 There's a vicious bit of scandal 
 In the endless stretch of skies; 
 
 Can you guess? 
 
 All the stars are deeply conscious; 
 It has dimmed their lust'rous eyes, 
 They confess. 
 
 It concerns you won't divulge it? 
 Well, I'll tell you Mr. Moon! 
 
 Why, his children say he acted 
 Like a foolish old buffoon. 
 
 It's a shame a man so hoary 
 
 Should be led by Bacchus' tune. 
 Such a mess! 
 
 It is said, quite unexpected, 
 
 Mr. Moon slipped out one night 
 
 Joy to woo. 
 
 Wrenched the Dipper from its fastenings, 
 Toward the Milky Way took flight. 
 No one knew. 
 
 But he drank too much ambrosia 
 
 In a neighborhood cafe, 
 Where they took his Dipper from him 
 
 76
 
 When he said he couldn't pay. 
 Then they sent the Full Moon homeward 
 Minus Dipper, in dismay. 
 Sad, but true. 
 
 BLARNEY 
 
 Whin ye're needin' a shmile or a wee bit 
 
 o' blarney, 
 T' banish th' cares of a storm-clouded 
 
 day, 
 Or a rift o' the sunshine that blesses Kil- 
 
 larney, 
 An' cheers every heart wid its warm 
 
 Irish ray; 
 Sure, I want y' t' know I'll be waitin' yer 
 
 callin' 
 I'll answer yer voice t' th' world's furthest 
 
 end, 
 An' I'll be at yer side ere th' night shades 
 
 have fallen 
 
 T' bring y' a shmile wid th' twilight, old 
 friend. 
 
 77
 
 FRIENDS 
 
 God took the fragrance of myriad flowers, 
 The soul of the morning, the shade of the 
 
 bowers, 
 He plucked from the sunset the hue of its 
 
 shading, 
 The song from the brook, and the birds' 
 
 serenading; 
 
 God took the quiet and peace of the foun 
 tain, 
 The truth of the hills and the strength of 
 
 the mountain: 
 He bound them in faith that will ne'er 
 
 break nor perish, 
 And gave them to us in the Friends that 
 
 we cherish. 
 
 WILL 
 
 Will to live the life of a man, 
 Will to lead, not follow, the van, 
 Will the world to answer your call, 
 Will the world to bring you its all! 
 
 Learn that Will can give all you crave, 
 Make it serve you, make it your slave, 
 Sense the thrill of deeds nobly done, 
 Will to gain success and 'tis won! 
 
 78
 
 WORTH TRYING 
 
 They say that life's a funny proposition, 
 
 after all. 
 Guess 'tiz! 
 But what is gained by toasting it in bumpers 
 
 full of gall? 
 Gee whiz ! ! 
 Go on your way rejoicing, smile a little 
 
 now and then; 
 You'll feel a whole lot better, and you'll 
 
 find your fellowmen 
 Will welcome you where'er you go they'll 
 
 ask you back again. 
 Helps biz!!! 
 
 WHOSE FAULT? 
 
 The world is a bitter, noxious place, 
 With never a spark or touch or trace 
 Of anything good like a saving grace, 
 It's a horrid old world of sin. 
 
 But that is the world of him who rails, 
 Who never will try, who always fails; 
 The man who would follow Fortune's trails 
 Must have hope and a smile to win. 
 
 79
 
 BE A MAN 
 
 It's a mighty good thing, while you're run 
 ning life's race, 
 
 Just to pause, as you go, and to come face 
 to face 
 
 With your conscience, and ask it a question 
 or two; 
 
 For it's right you should know what your 
 life means to you. 
 
 Have you done things worth while, have 
 
 you drifted along, 
 Have you filled it with sighs, have you 
 
 filled it with song, 
 Have you helped when you should, have 
 
 you tried to do right, 
 Have you struggled for good, or just 
 
 fought on for might? 
 
 Have you given your hand to some fellow 
 
 in need, 
 Have you sneered at the man who was not 
 
 of your creed, 
 Have you been open-hearted and ready 
 
 to do, 
 Have you tried to be just, have you tried to 
 
 be true? 
 
 80
 
 In your judgment of men, have you been 
 always fair, 
 
 Have you learned to forgive in the face of 
 despair, 
 
 Have you fought against greed, or suc 
 cumbed to its lust, 
 
 Have you learned what it means to protect 
 and to trust? 
 
 Oh, it's easy to preach and it's easy to tell 
 Of the other chap's faults but our own 
 
 faults, ah, well! 
 We are cowards at times, and the truth, 
 
 you will find, 
 Is a thing we dislike, for it's rather unkind. 
 
 But the Past, let it rest. Give a thought 
 
 to To-day 
 And To-morrow, as well, for the Time's 
 
 growing gray; 
 Do the things that you should, do the best 
 
 that you can, 
 Crown your life with your deeds be a 
 
 red-blooded man! 
 
 81
 
 MARY DARLINT 
 
 Mary McGuire, begorry, yer sire 
 
 Should be mighty proud o' ye, darlint, 
 
 fer sure. 
 Wid yer cheeks like th' roses, yer lips just 
 
 as red, 
 An' a smile on yer face that's like wine t' me 
 
 head. 
 'Tis no wonder I'm wishin' and longin' fer 
 
 you, 
 
 When I ought t' be earnin' a dollar or two, 
 Mary, darlint. 
 
 Mary, ye divil, why can't ye be civil? 
 Ye're breakin' me heart into wee little 
 
 bits. 
 Sure, I'm that brave an' fearless that one 
 
 day, coleen, 
 I'll be drownin' what's left o'meself in th' 
 
 stream; 
 Fer I'm growin' so t'in from th' pert t'ings 
 
 ye've said, 
 That I'm fearin' some mornin' I'll find me- 
 
 self dead, 
 Mary, darlint. 
 
 82
 
 Mary McGuire, I'm that much on fire 
 Wid love fer ye, sweetheart, I'm nearly 
 consumed. 
 
 But I'm tellin' ye true, if ye don't soon de 
 cide, 
 
 Ye'll be dressin' in black 'stead o' bein' a 
 bride. 
 
 Sure an' what's that ye're sayin'? Ye'll 
 marry me now? 
 
 Praise th' hivens! I know'd I'd persuade 
 y ' somehow, 
 
 Mary, darlint. 
 
 BE NOT IMPULSIVE 
 
 Be not impulsive, think as you go, 
 Weigh ev'ry move you make; 
 
 Be not too hasty, better be slow: 
 Vict'ry may be at stake. 
 
 Pick out the task you know you can do, 
 
 Summon your vital Will, 
 Take Thought and Judgment, friends that 
 are true, 
 
 Then to the Crested Hill! 
 
 83
 
 DREAMING 
 
 I dreamed a dream in the twilight hours, 
 
 Lulled by the wind of a summer night, 
 That breathed a song through my dream 
 land bowers, 
 
 Touched by the brush of a heav'nly sprite. 
 
 Mellow the beams of the moon's soft 
 
 light, 
 Falling from out of the sky's deep hue: 
 
 Ah, but my dreaming was sweet delight; 
 Glad was my heart in its dream of you. 
 
 The lazy waves broke in crested showers: 
 
 Gems iridescent the drops were like, 
 Which turned, 'twould seem, into myriad 
 flowers 
 
 Tears of the sea that the stars made 
 bright. 
 
 Such is the fancy that dreams invite, 
 Fanciful joys that may ne'er come true! 
 
 Ah, but my dreaming was sweet delight; 
 Glad was my heart in its dream of you. 
 
 And mid the gold of the moon that towers 
 
 Far in the north in its mellow might, 
 
 I saw your smile. Ah, but God endowers 
 
 84
 
 Souls such as yours with His own love- 
 light. 
 
 Wonderful smile of my yesternight! 
 Why did you come but to say adieu? 
 
 Ah, but my dreaming was sweet delight; 
 Glad was my heart in its dream of you. 
 
 Come to me, Love, when the day takes 
 flight, 
 
 Sit by my side until sleep shall woo: 
 Ah, but my dreaming is sweet delight; 
 
 Glad is my heart in its dream of you. 
 
 AUTUMN 
 
 Velvet shadows come and go, 
 
 Drifting, whisp'ring breezes, 
 Winged adieus that sadly blow, 
 
 Wave the shadow friezes: 
 Ghostly branches, bare of leaves, 
 
 Gently bend in sorrow; 
 Summer's parting kiss deceives 
 
 Winter comes tomorrow. 
 
 85
 
 PLANS 
 
 I don't know what I'm goin' t' be 
 
 When I'm a great big man: 
 They're makin' lots o' plans fer me, 
 
 As families only can; 
 An' each one has a different thing 
 
 That I'm supposed t' do, 
 But no one ever thinks t' ast: 
 
 "Does that appeal t' you?" 
 
 Now, dad, fer instance, thinks that I 
 
 Should study law like him, 
 An' fix up people's wills an' things, 
 
 But that's so tumble grim; 
 While mother leans t' medicine, 
 
 An' bandages an' ills, 
 An' cuttin' legs from offern folks, 
 
 An' castor-oil an' pills. 
 
 M' grandma says I'll have t' be 
 
 A clergyman. Guess not! 
 T' dress m'self th' wrong side 'bout, 
 
 An' look like some ink-spot; 
 M' sister thinks I oughter learn 
 
 T' sing in op-er-roar, 
 An' grandpa says he got his start 
 
 In Spivin's grocery store. 
 
 86
 
 They go on plannin' day by day 
 
 What they will do with me, 
 But no one seems t' care a darn 
 
 What I should like t' be, 
 'Cause no one speaks o' firemen, 
 
 Er police, er engineers, 
 Er motormen, er generals, 
 
 Er pirate buccaneers. 
 
 But that's th' worst o' bein' small, 
 
 With relatives galore: 
 I'd take mos' anything fer mine, 
 
 An' never ast fer more; 
 But when /'ra big an' know a lot, 
 
 I'll never, never plan 
 Fer any little growin' boy 
 
 What wants t' be a man! 
 
 OUR FLAG. 
 
 It waves for you and it waves for me, 
 In all its splendid majesty: 
 This olden, golden flag that holds 
 Our hearts and faith within its folds, 
 Long live the Stars and Stripes! 
 
 87
 
 WHEN I AM WEARY 
 
 Whenever I am weary 
 
 And a few points under par, 
 I close my desk and slip away 
 
 And get my little car; 
 I grease it and I oil it, 
 
 And I tune it up a bit, 
 For one of us must surely be 
 
 In running trim and fit. 
 
 I dust its ancient body, 
 
 And I patch its ragged shoes, 
 Then a bit of ah* inflation 
 
 With my hand-pump I infuse: 
 I give it gas aplenty, 
 
 And a satisfying drink, 
 And tie my kerchief round the door 
 
 To stop its chronic clink. 
 
 And then I look it over 
 
 Very thoughtfully to see 
 If all my lavish kindliness 
 
 Has won its sympathy; 
 I crank it very gently, 
 
 And we bravely make a start, 
 As I stethoscope the pounding 
 
 Of its apoplectic heart. 
 
 88
 
 But when we reach the country, 
 
 Well, it seems we're both in tune, 
 For I find myself a-humming, 
 
 And the car joins with its croon; 
 We're just like some old couple, 
 
 Who have stolen far from home, 
 To be alone with Nature 
 
 And in daisy fields to roam. 
 
 And then when all my drear has gone, 
 
 And joy rests in its place, 
 We turn about and make for home 
 
 At just a jog-trot pace; 
 And folks in Packards smile at us, 
 
 As they go shooting by: 
 But we have seen what they have missed- 
 
 The blue of God's great sky ! 
 
 ACCORDINGLY 
 
 Think of To-morrow, not of To-day, 
 Nor yet of the moments gone, 
 
 And To-morrow will glow with the sunny ray 
 Of Yesterday's blithesome song. 
 
 89
 
 PATRIOTISM 
 
 When war was new, we used to stand, 
 And watch the trains go crawling by, 
 All bound for some unknown ports, 
 Where shadow-ships tugged oceanward, 
 Impatient, perhaps, to take our boys 
 To still unknown shores. 
 
 And how we'd cheer, and wave our hats, 
 
 As each long train of khaki passed, 
 
 And how their voices answered us: 
 
 A sob in ours, a smile in theirs ! 
 
 And when they'd passed, we'd turn away, 
 
 A damp-eyed little group. 
 
 And now the trains go rolling on, 
 To different cities by the way: 
 But scarcely do we stop to glance 
 At those bronzed faces, surly set; 
 And no hand waves, in street or train. 
 'Twould seem that no one cares ! 
 
 90
 
 THE LEVELER 
 
 What kindred interest we sense, 
 In palpitating, eager throngs, 
 That jostle in the crowded aisles, 
 
 Of swaying cars; 
 
 There frank and friendly Poverty, 
 And Plenty, disingenuous, 
 Rub raiment democratically, 
 
 In full accord. 
 
 And no one questions social caste, 
 
 Nor cares to know his neighbor's means, 
 
 Nor yet the gross or fine intents, 
 
 That charge his life; 
 One golden, sympathetic bond, 
 Entwines all hearts, and holds them close 
 In common fellowship because 
 
 They're going home! 
 
 And so, I'm sure, 'twill also be, 
 When tired travelers thread their way 
 Among the stars that guard the Throne, 
 
 On that Great Day; 
 For naught but Love will find a place, 
 In that long, weary caravan 
 Of kings and peasantry because 
 
 They're going home! 
 91
 
 THE SERPENT 
 
 In quiv'ring length, its seething coils 
 Stretch limply and seductively, 
 With passion in its trembling lines, 
 As though 'twould rear, and wrap itself 
 In crushing folds about the form 
 Of Innocence. 
 
 By day, the sunshine smiles on it, 
 With fascinated reverence, 
 Perhaps seeking favor in its eyes 
 Its eyes ! Green-monstered orbs that glint, 
 And vilify the sun by day, 
 The moon by night. 
 
 Where envy, greed, licentiousness, 
 And cold brutality gleam forth, 
 To sear whate'er their shafts may strike : 
 For such as these, fair Decency 
 Prostrates herself and then becomes 
 A tainted Thing. 
 
 Yet willing victims woo its fangs, 
 Allured by lying promises, 
 And hopes that never burst their buds; 
 To be repaid with mocking sneers, 
 To writhe within the jealous folds 
 Of Broadway's coils! 
 92
 
 MY PIPE 
 
 I guess I've never learned to know 
 The subtle joys that come and go, 
 And touch the senses with a thrill 
 That seem our day-dreams to fulfill 
 The joys that float from a cigar, 
 In wreaths of fragrant smoke afar. 
 
 And though I've tried, I've never found 
 The comforts that I've heard abound. 
 Through paying court to that fair queen 
 Of saffron color, Nicotine; 
 Indeed, I've never sensed the bliss 
 Of cigarette's sweet- venomed kiss. 
 
 I've tried, I own, to cultivate 
 Affection for this dual fate; 
 But other men find something more 
 Than I to praise and to adore; 
 Perchance my taste is not yet "ripe," 
 For my beloved is my old pipe. 
 
 So there you have it! Why deny, 
 With drooping eyes and sorrowed sigh, 
 The love I bear my ancient friend, 
 Whose bowl contains the rarest blend 
 Of Southland's balmy, sun-touched breeze, 
 And melodies of bird-filled trees?
 
 Whose crusted fount is redolent 
 Of romance of the Orient; 
 Of trackless seas, and ice-clad lands, 
 Of rocky shoals, and sanded strands; 
 Of great blue eyes that smile at me, 
 Through bluer smoke, bewitchingly. 
 
 To you, whose fingers bear the stain, 
 Whose twitching nerves cry out in pain, 
 I dare not give my earthly share, 
 But say instead an earnest prayer 
 That you may some day know the spell, 
 Which glows within a briar's well. 
 
 BE BIG 
 
 Put a sway in your words, a resolve in 
 
 your thought, 
 
 And a force in the things you do, 
 And observe as you go that success easily 
 
 bought 
 Never sounds with a ring that's true. 
 
 But a thought that is big and a word that 
 
 is strong, 
 
 And a deed that is free from guile, 
 Seem to grow in our hearts like the mem'ry 
 
 of song, 
 And they bring the success worth while. 
 
 94
 
 ENNUI 
 
 I had folded my papers, and placed them 
 
 away, 
 
 And was striving to stifle a yawn, 
 For the air bore the drowse of a mid-summer 
 
 day, 
 
 With the scent of the freshly-cut lawn; 
 When a knock at the door left my yawn in 
 
 my throat, 
 
 And I straightened myself hurriedly, 
 As I cried out, "Come in!" in an impatient 
 
 note; 
 
 Then I glanced up, and there stood 
 Ennui. 
 
 "You are welcome, my friend; have a com 
 fortable seat; 
 
 May I ask what has prompted your call?" 
 "It's the weather," he said, with a sniff at 
 
 the heat, 
 
 As he dropped in a chair, with a sprawl; 
 "I delight to go visiting days such as these, 
 
 For it seems I 'fit in,' as it were 
 As the fragrance of clover fits into the 
 
 breeze, 
 
 When its spirit the zephyrs would stir." 
 95
 
 "You're poetic," I laughed. "It's inher 
 ent," he sighed, 
 "Though I've wished many times it were 
 
 not; 
 
 It's a spell that comes on in the early spring 
 tide, 
 
 But it's worse when the weather grows hot; 
 Yet I'm welcome, 'twould seem, every place 
 
 I may go, 
 Though there's only one thing that I 
 
 fear" 
 And he halted abruptly, and looked for the 
 
 glow 
 
 At the window, and whispered, "Still 
 clear!" 
 
 Well, we smoked, and we chatted, and toyed 
 
 with the time, 
 
 While the hours went tripping along, 
 And the moments of lassitude, truly sublime, 
 
 Were as music of narcotic song; 
 For it seemed that my friend cast an indo 
 lent spell, 
 
 Like a nebulous haze cross the sun, 
 And I found myself wishing, it grieves me to 
 
 tell, 
 That its witchery would never be done. 
 
 96
 
 Yet it's strange, as we talked, that I glanced 
 
 at the pad 
 
 I had thrown aside days before, 
 With suggestions and notes so luxuriantly 
 
 clad; 
 
 Then I heard a low knock at the door, 
 And I opened it quickly. "New Interest!" 
 
 I cried, 
 
 "How devoted to come such a day!" 
 "Why, it's turning quite cool; great for 
 
 work," he replied; 
 Then we both saw Ennui slink away. 
 
 YOUR BIRTHDAY 
 
 I would garner the joys of the years that 
 
 have passed 
 
 Into one Perfect Day, if I could, 
 And its music would be but the brook's 
 
 laughing lilt, 
 
 Its quiet the calm of the wood; 
 And this wonderful day, with its sunshine 
 
 and warmth, 
 
 With its smiles and its flowers, its cheer, 
 I would fashion for you, that the whole 
 
 world might know 
 'Tis your birthday, the sweet o' the year. 
 
 97
 
 A MOCKERY 
 
 They always met at the factory gate, 
 
 When the toil of the day was done, 
 When pallid workers would stumble forth, 
 
 For a glimpse of the dying sun; 
 And homeward then they would slowly go, 
 
 With Love to lead the way, 
 A wizened, gaunt, though a hopeful Love, 
 
 Of the litter of Underpay. 
 
 And they planned, as lovers can only plan, 
 
 For the day that their dreams invent, 
 For the cosy house, with the crawling vines, 
 
 And the joy-throbbing wonderment; 
 Of singing birds, and a wealth of flow'rs, 
 
 And each little longed-for need; 
 They must have prayed, as they strolled 
 along 
 
 Though the Lord doesn't always heed. 
 
 But He joined the two with His sacred bond; 
 
 Then the world took them both in hand : 
 It looked them over, from tip to toe, 
 
 And gave them to understand 
 
 98
 
 That factory-gnomes, of the lathe and bench, 
 Mustn't hope they could ever be 
 
 Like other folk, who'd escaped the pinch, 
 And the dolor of poverty. 
 
 Then they learned that dreams are chimer 
 ical, 
 
 For they found they could not afford 
 The little house, with the blinds and things, 
 
 And the garden and velvet sward; 
 For they had to live in a tenement, 
 
 (Heaven knows there's no romance therel) 
 And they spent their days within factory 
 walls, 
 
 Their nights in a room more bare. 
 
 Then Love grew tired, and finally died: 
 
 There was nothing to give it hope, 
 Nothing of color, but cheerless drab, 
 
 In life's kaleidoscope; 
 
 And at last they traveled their separate 
 paths, 
 
 But they both took the "easiest way": 
 He to the gutter she God knows 
 
 The offspring of Underpay ! 
 
 99
 
 HUMANITY'S MARKET 
 
 Give me a man who is not afraid 
 To carry a pick, or a bar, or spade, 
 To dig in a ditch in the swelt'ring sun, 
 To stick to the last, till the job is done; 
 Give me a man unafraid of work, 
 No matter the brand who will never shirk, 
 A man who is deaf to the call of pride 
 And blind to the grime of his hair and hide. 
 
 Give me a man who will hold the road, 
 Nor swerve from the path of the honor code, 
 Who fashions his deeds as his heart decrees, 
 Who cares more for worth than for pedi 
 grees; 
 
 Give me a man who will fight for right 
 Against the chimeras of tinseled might, 
 Unfettered and free as a bird a-wing, 
 Immune from the venom of envy's sting. 
 
 Give me a man with a heart of gold, 
 Give me a man with a courage bold, 
 Who feels not the smart of the world's pet 
 
 sneer, 
 
 Reserved for the man it has cause to fear; 
 Give me a man with a mellowed soul, 
 Whose unerring goodness will win the goal, 
 Give me a man of our Lord's own kind: 
 I'm bidding for men but they're hard to 
 
 find! 
 
 100
 
 MINOR CHORDS 
 
 I used to think that life 
 
 Was but a symphony of song, 
 In my days of adolescence, 
 
 Which to happiness belong, 
 But I've learned that though a symphony 
 
 It has its minor chords 
 That are plaintive with the anguish 
 
 Of the struggling earthly hordes. 
 
 For beneath the filmy motif 
 
 Runs a counter melody, 
 In a strain that's all insistent 
 
 With a somber harmony: 
 Just as though the Great Composer 
 
 Had intended we should know, 
 All the changing shades of darkness, 
 
 As well as sunlight's glow. 
 
 And 'twould seem that life is brighter, 
 
 That its song is sweeter still, 
 When a deep-toned note of suffering 
 
 For the moment seems to chill, 
 For its echo bears the cadence 
 
 Of a meaning strange and new, 
 As it glorifies the memory 
 
 Of the pleasures that we knew. 
 101
 
 SEEDS OF LOVE 
 
 We can make of life a garden plot, 
 
 If we will only try, 
 Full redolent with copious buds, 
 
 And no discordant sigh; 
 We can extirpate monotony 
 
 From every toilsome day, 
 If we'll only drop some seeds of love 
 
 All along the way. 
 
 We can give to work a meaning new, 
 
 Regardless of the kind, 
 By adding happiness to it, 
 
 And trying hard to find 
 The latent, palpitating rose, 
 
 Beneath the somber gray, 
 If we'll only drop some seeds of love 
 
 All along the way. 
 
 And the friends we make will come to be 
 
 The scintillating gleams 
 Of many suns, that give us warmth, 
 
 Through their refulgent beams: 
 That lead us forth, like flaming brands, 
 
 In safety through the fray, 
 If we'll only drop some seeds of love 
 
 All along the way. 
 
 102
 
 So let us make this life of ours 
 
 A garden plot, full blown, 
 Where we can sit among the blooms 
 
 That we have carefully grown; 
 And lo, the earth will rear itself 
 
 In radiant array, 
 If we'll only drop some seeds of love 
 
 All along the way. 
 
 MY FRIEND 
 
 I think of you ofttimes, my friend, 
 When sorrow's darkest clouds descend 
 
 And drop their mantle over me; 
 
 Ah, then in my extremity 
 I bring my heart to you to mend. 
 
 'Twould seem you somehow comprehend, 
 When grief my inmost soul would rend; 
 "Pis then I crave a word from thee, 
 
 friend of mine. 
 
 And when I sip life's sweetest blend, 
 Of happiness and joy unkenned, 
 
 1 think of you, and send a plea 
 To God on high a prayer that He 
 
 May bless you, guard you till life's end, 
 O friend of mine. 
 
 103
 
 INSPIRATION 
 
 I often find myself devoid 
 
 Of golden thoughts to weave in verse, 
 
 And search my sterile memory 
 
 For some forgotten hidden gem 
 
 Some truant beam that once had played 
 
 Across the screen. 
 
 And then I hold the film itself 
 Against the dimly-lighted Past, 
 To pierce the age-dark shadowings 
 That mock the ghostly flickering 
 Of Recollection's wavering flame 
 But all in vain. 
 
 With Failure's laughter hi my ears 
 I move about among the throngs 
 In aimless wandering, to find 
 Some living brand to shed its light, 
 And to recall an incident 
 Of Yesterday. 
 
 And there, among the complex host, 
 My Inspiration waits for me: 
 In thin, pale faces, hung'ring eyes, 
 And stagg'ring steps that go to meet 
 Tomorrow's Dawn all pulsing with 
 Life's Poetry. 
 
 104
 
 THE LONG, LONG TRIP 
 
 When the big bell tolls for the long, long 
 trip, 
 
 And you pack your things away: 
 Your harp and wings in your worn grip, 
 
 With your clothes of angel-gray; 
 When you say farewell to the sordid earth, 
 
 To your friends so stanch and leal, 
 When you turn your back on your home and 
 hearth 
 
 How are you going to feel? 
 
 Will you hearken back to the years gone by, 
 
 With a feeling of content, 
 With the thought that each sharp pain and 
 sigh 
 
 That you gave was never meant; 
 Will those years of life be as pearls to you, 
 
 On a necklace pure as gold, 
 Will your heart be light when you seek the 
 blue 
 
 That Tomorrow's years enfold? 
 
 Will your step be firm, will you wear a smile, 
 When the stairway you ascend, 
 
 And take the road to the Afterwhile, 
 Which all lone travelers wend; 
 105
 
 Will you feel secure at the Golden Gate 
 
 When St. Peter asks to see 
 The credentials that will decide your fate, 
 
 And your residence to be? 
 
 But you needn't fear, nor you needn't fret, 
 
 When you hear the tolling bell, 
 For there'll be no sound of a vain regret 
 
 In its echoing farewell, 
 If the life you leave has been filled with 
 deeds, 
 
 And if love was at your side: 
 Then you'll reap the blooms of your well- 
 sown seeds 
 
 That your faith has sanctified. 
 
 TACT 
 
 If you'd like to pass a speeding chap, 
 
 Or to reach a goal afar, 
 It's a certainty you'll have to hitch 
 
 Your wagon to a star; 
 But another thing you'll have to do, 
 
 In all that you transact, 
 (And a most important thing it is) 
 
 Is to use a little tact. 
 
 106
 
 It's the eye, the ear, the taste, the smell, 
 
 And the sense of touch, in one, 
 For its golden threads, through all the five, 
 
 Are interlaced and spun; 
 And it has a vital part to do 
 
 With the forming of each act, 
 So it's well for everyone to learn 
 
 To use a little tact. 
 
 There are many times, I must admit, 
 
 When it's hard to stop and think, 
 But those are very dangerous times, 
 
 For we're mighty near the brink; 
 And it's then we have to bite our lips, 
 
 To swallow and retract: 
 Oh, you'll find it often pains a heap 
 
 To use a little tact. 
 
 But in truth, it's always worth your while, 
 
 No matter what the cause, 
 Just to give yourself a meaning shake, 
 
 And to take a breathing pause; 
 For it's putting dollars in your bank, 
 
 While its good will retroact: 
 So I humbly urge on everyone 
 
 To use a little tact. 
 
 107
 
 TWILIGHT 
 
 When my weary day is over, 
 
 And the scent of early clover 
 
 Strokes the twilight's eerie shadows with its 
 
 gentle perfumed hand, 
 
 It is then my simple dwelling, 
 
 With a love-light all excelling, 
 
 Seems to have a different meaning in the 
 
 evening's parting strand. 
 
 It becomes a fairy bower, 
 In this star-lit mystic hour, 
 A lane of haunting mem'ry and a heaven, 
 
 all in one, 
 
 With its sweet of wakeful dreaming, 
 And the song in treetops seeming 
 To be fraught with all the wonder of a 
 courting just begun. 
 
 Then with love my arms enfold her, 
 With a new-found joy I hold her, 
 As we hearken to the rhapsody that fills the 
 
 evening air, 
 
 For I know that no Tomorrow 
 Will be touched by poignant sorrow, 
 While the scent of early clover is the fra 
 grance of her hair. 
 108
 
 THE TRIANGLE 
 
 We bow to one triumvirate, 
 
 In all that we essay, 
 A potent force triangular, 
 
 That dissipates dismay; 
 And well we know, if we may have 
 
 The trio at our side, 
 There's nothing we shall fear to do 
 
 Throughout the great world wide. 
 
 Our Common Sense must lead the three, 
 
 For how can we succeed, 
 If we are rash in all we do, 
 
 And never stop to heed; 
 If, when a plan presents itself, 
 
 We act impulsively, 
 Instead of letting Judgment 
 
 Be the final referee? 
 
 Then Industry will follow close, 
 
 Its twin, Initiative, 
 The foe of every random thought 
 
 That's weak and negative; 
 The force that makes the world go round, 
 
 And cleaves the blazoned road, 
 The force to which the god Success 
 
 Indites his favored ode. 
 109
 
 And last is Perseverance, 
 
 The mill that's never still, 
 That grinds our bullion constantly, 
 
 Obedient to the Will; 
 And with this trio, man can go 
 
 Where'er his fancies soar, 
 The sworn master of himself 
 
 His own true emperor. 
 
 WE WON'T BE BACK THIS WAY 
 
 If there's any good that you'd like to do, 
 
 You had better do it now, 
 And not defer till the time's too late, 
 
 As some folks will, somehow; 
 You had better try, as you travel on, 
 
 To help the world along, 
 With a kindly thought of the other chap, 
 
 And a note of blithesome song. 
 
 It's a dangerous thing to procrastinate, 
 
 For the days go quickly by, 
 And we can't recall what has passed, you 
 know, 
 
 Though we sometimes vainly try; 
 
 110
 
 So it's well to do what we know we should, 
 
 When the spirit tells us to, 
 Lest we meet the specter of "should have 
 done," 
 
 Ere we bid the world adieu. 
 
 For there's not a thing that will pain as 
 much 
 
 As a kindness left undone, 
 Nor a cheerful word that was left unsaid 
 
 When a cloud-bank veiled the sun; 
 For a deep remorse leaves a deeper wound, 
 
 And a turgid, throbbing scar, 
 That we can't efface from our memory, 
 
 Though we journey long and far. 
 
 But the path of life is a flowered trail 
 
 To the soul that tries to aid, 
 And it finds new courage to face the world 
 
 With a spirit unafraid; 
 It's a debt we owe to our kith and kin, 
 
 A debt we should defray: 
 So let's be kind, as we travel on, 
 
 For we won't be back this way. 
 
 ill
 
 A ROSE TO THE LIVING 
 
 If I could but touch the hearts of men 
 
 Who have grown stern and cold, 
 There's just one thing I should ask of them 
 
 To make their hearts unfold; 
 And 'twould bring a joy to the soul of me 
 
 Before my life should close, 
 If they'd grave these words on their mem 
 ories: 
 
 Don't withhold the rose. 
 
 But it seems the world has a heavy pride 
 
 That keeps it close to earth, 
 That holds its interest in just itself, 
 
 And dims another's worth; 
 It seems to be such a jealous world, 
 
 Of imperious, haughty pose, 
 That I scarcely dare to implore of it : 
 
 Don't withhold the rose. 
 
 Not every one can be big and strong, 
 Nor excel in the world's great work, 
 
 But most of us do the best we can, 
 And few of us try to shirk, 
 
 112
 
 While the least of us need a kindly word, 
 
 And all of us, heaven knows, 
 Should heed the Voice, ere it be too late: 
 
 Don't withhold the rose. 
 
 Melt your heart with the rays of love: 
 
 We're all of the Master's flock, 
 And whether of wealth we've more or less 
 
 Deserves no praise or mock; 
 Give your hand when the need is felt, 
 
 And let your arms enclose 
 The timid form whose lips would plead: 
 
 Don't withhold the rose. 
 
 MY WELL 
 
 I haven't any sylvan well, 
 
 With sparkling water deep, 
 Through which the sun 's transmuted shafts 
 
 Like arrows seem to leap; 
 Nor any bucket, mossy crowned, 
 
 And rich with poet's lore, 
 To cast itself, in sportiveness, 
 
 Upon the pebbled floor. 
 
 113
 
 For these are not indigenous 
 
 To prosy city life, 
 Especially in apartment caves, 
 
 Where modern things are rife; 
 And yet I have a substitute, 
 
 For well, and bucket, too, 
 Which, though bereft of rural charm, 
 
 Has proved a comrade true. 
 
 In winter time, in summer time, 
 
 It serves me faithfully, 
 With persevering diligence, 
 
 And friendly constancy; 
 It is just a thermos bottle, 
 
 But of all the wells that well 
 I'd choose it from among the host, 
 
 In virgin vale or dell. 
 
 For when I wake from fevered sleep, 
 
 It's resting at my side, 
 A cooling fount of water clear, 
 
 To willingly provide; 
 And though the well may have a few 
 
 Traditions, more or less, 
 I'd rather have my vacuum flask 
 
 Instead, I must confess. 
 
 114
 
 HIS BIRTHDAY 
 
 How sort o' wealthy-like and proud 
 
 A fellow feels, and how 
 The lines of worriment and care 
 
 Drop lightly from his brow; 
 How bygone years pack up their duds, 
 
 And slyly steal away, 
 Leaving him a boy again 
 
 To celebrate his day 
 J'ever notice? 
 
 And what surprise he simulates, 
 
 What pleasure paramount, 
 When he receives the family gifts, 
 
 (All charged to his account); 
 And how he pouts, if they forget 
 
 To give some little thing, 
 On this, the only day of all, 
 
 That father is the king. 
 J'ever notice? 
 
 And how he mentions casually 
 
 To everyone he meets 
 This day of days, and buys cigars 
 
 For every chum he greets; 
 
 115
 
 And how they always humor him 
 
 By vowing he's as spry 
 As any youngster twenty-one 
 
 And how be loves the lie! 
 J'ever notice? 
 
 But if you tell a tiny fib 
 
 In making someone glad, 
 I rather think that Gabriel 
 
 Will scratch it from his pad; 
 For cheery words that thrill with joy, 
 
 No matter what they be, 
 Will ease our road and help us all 
 
 To grow old gracefully. 
 J'ever notice? 
 
 THE GRUMBLERS 
 
 Some men are always grumbling 
 
 Because they don't succeed; 
 They're charter members, every one, 
 
 Of that great cult and creed 
 That has no keen initiative 
 
 Nor cares to forge ahead, 
 But likes to sit and thunder growls, 
 
 And scratch its ivory head. 
 
 116
 
 They work by rote and office clock, 
 
 And do the things they must, 
 But if they're asked for something more, 
 
 They think it most unjust; 
 They have a sort of primal hate 
 
 For members of the firm, 
 Though when they meet them face to face, 
 
 They bow, and scrape, and squirm. 
 
 They always form in little cliques, 
 
 And seem to stand apart, 
 Instead of joining buoyantly, 
 
 With willing, hopeful heart, 
 In all that their employers do 
 
 To help the business on, 
 Their int'rest is tubercular, 
 
 Their efforts weak and wan. 
 
 And then they wonder why they fail, 
 
 While others win the day; 
 But if they'd study those who win, 
 
 They'd quickly sense the way; 
 They'd find it's just by working hard, 
 
 And looking round for more, 
 That little men grow into big, 
 
 And pass through Fortune's door. 
 
 117
 
 ADVICE 
 
 When I was but a little boy, 
 
 My grandad used to say: 
 "Learn something that is useful, lad, 
 
 Each hour of the day; 
 And when your head is filled, you'll find, 
 
 It's quite a simple plan, 
 To fill your empty pocketbook, 
 
 When you become a man." 
 
 But Youth is proud Experiment, 
 
 And Age, Experience: 
 It's strange, they're always alien 
 
 A queer coincidence! 
 And so I failed to heed his words, 
 
 As boys are wont to do; 
 For I was young, and he was old, 
 
 And life was rosy-hue. 
 
 My little seat-mate, Billy Elm, 
 
 Sure loved his thumb-marked books: 
 He'd study them with earnest mien, 
 
 And I, my fishing hooks; 
 But when our graduation came, 
 
 He led the honor roll, 
 While I disported in the shade 
 
 Of Huckin's swimming hole. 
 118
 
 But grandad knew the way of life, 
 
 I've learned since years have flown: 
 He knew that youthful study forms 
 
 Success's corner-stone; 
 For now, at forty, I'm a clerk 
 
 In Elm's Department Store, 
 While Billy's worth a million, yes, 
 
 And "Bradstreet" says heaps more! 
 
 MY PIANO 
 
 There's an hour every evening, 
 
 When heaven seems quite near, 
 When the air is sweetly vocal, 
 
 And when worries disappear: 
 It is just as twilight changes 
 
 To the majesty of night, 
 While I sit at my piano 
 
 In the graying evening light. 
 
 Then the masters stand beside me 
 
 And my fingers seem to guide 
 To the haunts of lovely melody 
 
 Where fairy sprites reside; 
 And I scent the dewy fragrance 
 
 Of a flowered dale or glen, 
 Softly hidden in the vistas, 
 
 Far removed from sight of men. 
 
 119
 
 There with Rubinstein and Mozart, 
 
 And with Verdi's shade I roam, 
 With Rossini, Donizetti, 
 
 In the ever-deep 'ning gloam : 
 And I seem to know the passion 
 
 Of the great Beethoven's art, 
 And to analyze the meaning 
 
 Of the world's pulsating heart. 
 
 I am lost in all the grandeur 
 
 Of their changing harmonies, 
 In the throb of mighty oceans, 
 
 In the song of wind-swept trees: 
 In the ecstasy of l,overs, 
 
 And the agony of souls, 
 In the beating of the waters 
 
 On a lifetime's rocky shoals. 
 
 And I learn life's truest lesson 
 
 In the moments quickly gone: 
 Thus I know that life is sweetest 
 
 When the heart is filled with song, 
 For my own is strangely happy 
 
 In the moonlight's golden cheer, 
 While I sit at my piano 
 
 With the Master very near. 
 
 120
 
 INDEX OF FIRST LINES 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A little bit of sunshine 19 
 
 A little dog's tail is a wonderful thing 54 
 
 A little smile once in a while 59 
 
 A man with a frown and a man with a smile 26 
 
 A thought that is winged from a friend to a friend 52 
 
 An American never starts a thing 68 
 
 Be careful of moods; they are dang'rous things.. . . 49 
 
 Before you send your letter, read it over 23 
 
 Be loyal to the thoughts that your heart holds dear 70 
 
 Be not impulsive, think as you go 83 
 
 Bill was the clerk in the general store 38 
 
 Do something good each passing day 15 
 
 Dreamers are needed to pierce the tomorrow 71 
 
 Every breath of the wind that blows 75 
 
 Every day has its quota of smiles 72 
 
 Give me a man who is not afraid 100 
 
 Give me your hand when I need it most 53 
 
 God took the fragrance of myriad flowers 78 
 
 Happiness is yours to take 31 
 
 He carried a book every place that he went 42 
 
 He made his prayer to a dollar bill 63 
 
 He's a little dog with a stubby tail 9 
 
 Hey, there, fellows, come on in 51 
 
 How sort o' wealthy-like and proud 115 
 
 Hush-a-baby, close yo' eyes 47 
 
 I don't know what I'm goin' t' be 86 
 
 I dreamed a dream in the twilight hours 84 
 
 I guess I've never learned to know 93 
 
 I had folded my papers and put them away 95 
 
 121
 
 I haven't any sylvan well 113 
 
 I heard a voice 49 
 
 I love the melody of rain 24 
 
 I often find myself devoid 104 
 
 I say, pard! What's th' use o' worryin'? 72 
 
 I think of you of ttimes, my friend 103 
 
 I used to live in a great big house of seventeen 
 
 rooms or more 36 
 
 I used to *hmlr that life 101 
 
 I very often wonder 65 
 
 I would garner the joys of the years that have 
 
 passed 97 
 
 If each loved heart were lost to me on earth .... 50 
 
 If I could but touch the hearts of men 112 
 
 If there's any good that you'd like to do 110 
 
 If you'd like to pass a speeding chap 106 
 
 If you meet the world with a heart that's light . . 27 
 
 In quiv'ring length, its seething coils 92 
 
 In the clear summer air 73 
 
 Isn't it funny how love comes along 14 
 
 It matters not what your work may be 55 
 
 It takes but a minute to say good-bye 64 
 
 It waves for you and it waves for me 87 
 
 It's a mighty good thing, while you're running 
 
 life's race 80 
 
 It's a shame to be ill and confined to your bed 16 
 
 It's strange that the songs that we hear today 22 
 
 I've a little room where I live alone 31 
 
 I've always known that friends are sent 67 
 
 I've got th' finest uncle 28 
 
 "Let's go a-fishin', Mary" 46 
 
 122
 
 PAGE 
 
 Mary MacGuire, begorry, yer sire 82 
 
 "Mother, may I get in the swim?" 13 
 
 Never ask yourself the question: "Is my effort 
 
 worth the while" 64 
 
 No day so quickly passes 17 
 
 Oh, it's great to be able to go where you will .... 18 
 
 One summer night, while I wandered alone 25 
 
 Pat McDooin was a sailor whin he met swate Nora 
 
 Naylor 66 
 
 Put a sway in your words, a resolve in your thought 94 
 
 Sez Paddy Flynn t' me lasht noight 59 
 
 She had a pinkish bonnet, with a bunch o' flowers 
 
 on it 62 
 
 She isn't a car with a pedigree 11 
 
 Sighs and frowns are not for you 63 
 
 Some folks'll al'ays git along 10 
 
 Some men are always grumbling 116 
 
 Sometime I git in a thoughtful mood 44 
 
 Start the year with a word of cheer 30 
 
 Th' goin's hard when you're down an' out 34 
 
 That's what I always want you to be 35 
 
 The church folk sneer at the chorus girl 58 
 
 The world hasn't time for the gelatine-spined 33 
 
 The world is a bitter, noxious place 79 
 
 The world is a finer, better place 69 
 
 The world takes a man at his own valuation 55 
 
 There is something fine in the world for you 48 
 
 There's a heap o' satisfaction in the clasp of some 
 
 friend's hand 17 
 
 There's a place for you in the world, my lad 37 
 
 There's a vicious bit of scandal 76 
 
 There's an hour every evening 119 
 
 123
 
 PAGE 
 
 There's naught upon Tomorrow's page 57 
 
 They always met at the factory gate 98 
 
 They say that life's a funny proposition, after all 79 
 
 Think of Tomorrow, not of Today 89 
 
 This criticized world is a pretty good place 32 
 
 Turn your face to the Eastward, and look to the 
 
 rising sun 56 
 
 'Twas God Who took from heaven's dome 57 
 
 Two starry eyes look into mine 33 
 
 Velvet shadows come and go 85 
 
 Very often when you think a thought, you haven't 
 
 thunk a thing 50 
 
 We bow to one triumvirate 109 
 
 We can make of life a garden plot 102 
 
 We're all of us children grown up 62 
 
 What if you fail in the task at hand? 71 
 
 What kindred interest we sense 91 
 
 When a fellow thinks continually of a certain 
 
 charming girl 60 
 
 When I was but a little boy 118 
 
 When my weary day is over 108 
 
 When the big bell tolls for the long, long trip. . . . 105 
 When the line of your horizon has a gloomy sort 
 
 o' look 74 
 
 "Where are you going, my pretty maid?" 13 
 
 When war was new, we used to stand 90 
 
 Whenever I am weary 88 
 
 WTiin ye're needin' a shmile or a wee bit o' blarney 77 
 
 Will to live the life of a man 78 
 
 Work while you work, with all your heart 24 
 
 You'll find the marines where'er you go 20 
 
 You can capture the world with a smile 73 
 
 124
 
 INDEX OF TITLES 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Accordingly 89 
 
 Advice 118 
 
 "Argued by the Workin' Man" 59 
 
 Autumn 85 
 
 Baby 33 
 
 Be a Man 80 
 
 Be Big 94 
 
 Be Loyal to Your Thoughts 70 
 
 Be Not Impulsive 83 
 
 Betsy 11 
 
 Better'n None 62 
 
 Birth of Old Glory, The 57 
 
 Bit o' Heaven, A 1.9 
 
 Blarney 77 
 
 Bright Things of Life, The 52 
 
 Bum 9 
 
 Commencement Day 13 
 
 Cost, The 63 
 
 Dreaming. 84 
 
 Dreams 48 
 
 Each Plays a Part 71 
 
 Encouragement 17 
 
 Ennui 95 
 
 Every Day 72 
 
 Everyone Does It 36 
 
 Failure 71 
 
 Fight On! 64 
 
 "Fishin"' 46 
 
 Friend o' Mine . . 7 
 
 125
 
 PAGE 
 
 Friends 78 
 
 Friendship's Memory 64 
 
 Girl Who's Misunderstood, The 58 
 
 Glory of Failure, The 50 
 
 Go t' Sleep, Honey 47 
 
 Coin's Hard, Th' 84 
 
 Grumblers, The 116 
 
 Happiness 31 
 
 His Birthday 115 
 
 How to Live 53 
 
 Humanity's Market 100 
 
 I Wonder If It's Love 60 
 
 If 27 
 
 In Memory 75 
 
 Inspiration 104 
 
 It's a Good Old World 32 
 
 Just a Minute, Please 23 
 
 Just Dad 35 
 
 Lady Fair 73 
 
 Learn to Smile by the Way 26 
 
 Leveler, The 91 
 
 Life's Boomerang 15 
 
 Life's Room 31 
 
 Long, Long Trip 105 
 
 Man's Creed 56 
 
 Mary Darlint 82 
 
 Me an' Jim 44 
 
 Minor Chords 101 
 
 Mockery, A 98 
 
 Moods 49 
 
 More Ways Than One 66 
 
 126
 
 PAGE 
 
 Mother 69 
 
 My Friend 103 
 
 My Piano 119 
 
 My Pipe 93 
 
 My Star 25 
 
 My Well 113 
 
 Ne'er-Do-Well, The 38 
 
 Niche, The 37 
 
 Olden Melodies 22 
 
 Our Flag 87 
 
 Patriotism 90 
 
 Persuasion 51 
 
 Plan Today 57 
 
 Plans 86 
 
 Positive Negative 33 
 
 Prayer, A 17 
 
 Rain 24 
 
 Reason, The 10 
 
 Rose to the Living, A 112 
 
 Scandal 76 
 
 Seeds of Love .102 
 
 Serpent, The 92 
 
 Smile 73 
 
 Smile Your Way 63 
 
 Soul of a Friend, The 59 
 
 Strength of Youth, The 49 
 
 Sun-Crested Hill, The 18 
 
 Tact 106 
 
 Tail of a Dog, The 54 
 
 That's Why He's an American 68 
 
 There's an Awful Lot o' Happiness Around 74 
 
 127
 
 PAGE 
 
 Thy Messenger A Friend 67 
 
 Thunk, A 50 
 
 To the Convalescent 16 
 
 Trail, The 65 
 
 Tramp Philosophy 72 
 
 Triangle, The 109 
 
 Try 55 
 
 Twilight 108 
 
 Uncle 28 
 
 U. S. Marines, The 20 
 
 Vaulting Sunbeams 42 
 
 Way It's Done, The 13 
 
 We Won't Be Back This Way 110 
 
 When I am Weary 88 
 
 When Love Comes Along 14 
 
 Whose Fault? 79 
 
 Will 78 
 
 Work and Play 24 
 
 Worth Trying 79 
 
 Year of Years, The 30 
 
 Your Birthday 97 
 
 Your Worth 55 
 
 Youth of Tomorrow, The.. 62 
 
 128
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 1961 
 
 Form L9-40m-7,'56(C790s4)444
 
 001 247 923 4 
 
 PS