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real riches; his stocks draw dividends in dollars and cents only.

When it comes to buying shares
In the mines of earth,
May I join the millionaires
Who are rich in mirth.

Let me have a heavy stake
In fresh mountain air -
I will promise now to take
All that you can spare.

When you're setting up your claim
In the Mines of Glee,
Don't forget to use my name -
You can count on me.

Nothing better can be won,
Freer from alloy,
Than a bouncing claim in "Con-
Solidated Joy."

You can have your Copper Stocks
Gold and tin and coal -
What I'd have within my box
Has to do with Soul.

_John Kendrick Bangs._

From "Songs of Cheer."


To be absolutely without physical fear may not be the highest courage;
to shrink and quake, and yet stand at one's post, may be braver still.
So of success. It lies less in the attainment of some external end than
in holding yourself to your purposes and ideals; for out of high loyalty
and effort comes that intangible thing called character, which is no
mere symbol of success, but success itself.

I do not know what I shall find on out beyond the final fight;
I do not know what I shall meet beyond the last barrage of night;
Nor do I care - but this I know - if I but serve within the fold
And play the game - I'll be prepared for all the endless years may hold.

Life is a training camp at best for what may wait beyond the years;
A training camp of toiling days and nights that lean to dreams and tears;
But each may come upon the goal, and build his soul above all Fate
By holding an unbroken faith and taking Courage for a mate.

Is not the fight itself enough that man must look to some behest?
Wherein does Failure miss Success if all engaged but do their best?
Where does the Victor's cry come in for wreath of fame or laureled brow
If one he vanquished fought as well as weaker muscle would allow?

If my opponent in the fray should prove to be a stronger foe -
Not of his making - but because the Destinies ordained it so;
If he should win - and I should lose - although I did my utmost part,
Is my reward the less than his if he should strive with equal heart?

Brave Life, I hold, is something more than driving upward to the peak;
Than smashing madly through the strong, and crashing onward through the
I hold the man who makes his fight against the raw game's crushing odds
Is braver than his brothers are who hold the favor of the gods.

On by the sky line, faint and vague, in that Far Country all must know,
No laurel crown of fame may wait beyond the sunset's glow;
But life has given me the chance to train and serve within the fold,
To meet the test - and be prepared for all the endless years may hold.

_Grantland Rice._

From "The Sportlight."


A night's sleep and a new day - these are excellent things to look
forward to when one is weary or in trouble.

Li'l bit er trouble,
Honey, fer terday;
Yander come Termorrer -
Shine it all away!

Rainy Sky is sayin',
"Dis'll never do!
Fetch dem rainbow ribbons,
En I'll dress in blue!"

_Frank L. Stanton._

From "The Atlanta Constitution."


Gladness begins with the first person, with you. But it may spread far,
like the ripples when you toss a stone in the water.

Sing a song, sing a song,
Ring the glad-bells all along;
Smile at him who frowns at you,
He will smile and then they're two.

Laugh a bit, laugh a bit,
Folks will soon be catching it,
Can't resist a happy face;
World will be a merry place.

Laugh a Bit and Sing a Song,
Where they are there's nothing wrong;
Joy will dance the whole world through,
But it must begin with you.

_Joseph Morris._


Many people are not content to let well enough alone, but spoil what
they have by striving for an unnecessary and foolish improvement. If
they have a rich title, they try to ornament it still further; if they
have refined gold, they try to gild it; if they have a lily, they try to
paint it into still purer color.

Therefore, to be possessed with double pomp,
To guard a title that was rich before,
To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
To throw a perfume on the violet,
To smooth the ice, or add another hue
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light
To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,
Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.

_William Shakespeare._


The world has its faults, but few of us would give it up till we have

Pretty good world if you take it all round -
Pretty good world, good people!
Better be on than under the ground -
Pretty good world, good people!
Better be here where the skies are as blue
As the eyes of your sweetheart a-smilin' at you -
Better than lyin' 'neath daisies and dew -
Pretty good world, good people!

Pretty good world with its hopes and its fears -
Pretty good world, good people!
Sun twinkles bright through the rain of its tears -
Pretty good world, good people!
Better be here, in the pathway you know -
Where the thorn's in the garden where sweet roses grow,
Than to rest where you feel not the fall o' the snow -
Pretty good world, good people!

Pretty good world! Let us sing it that way -
Pretty good world, good people!
Make up your mind that you're in it to stay -
At least for a season, good people!
Pretty good world, with its dark and its bright -
Pretty good world, with its love and its light;
Sing it that way till you whisper, "Good-night!" -
Pretty good world, good people!

_Frank L. Stanton._

From "The Atlanta Constitution."


In the first stanza the poet hails duty as coming from God. It is a
light to guide us and a rod to check. To obey it does not lead to
victory; to obey it _is_ victory - is to live by a high, noble law. In
the second stanza he admits that some people do right without driving
themselves to it - do it by instinct and "the genial sense of youth." In
stanza 3 he looks forward to a time when all people will be thus
blessed, but he thinks that as yet it is unsafe for most of us to lose
touch completely with stern, commanding duty. In stanzas 4 and 5 he
states that he himself has been too impatient of control, has wearied
himself by changing from one desire to another, and now wishes to
regulate his life by some great abiding principle. In stanza 6 he
declares that duty, though stern, is benignant; the flowers bloom in
obedience to it, and the stars keep their places. In the final stanza he
dedicates his life to its service.

Stern Daughter of the Voice of God!
O Duty! if that name thou love
Who art a light to guide, a rod
To check the erring, and reprove;
Thou who art victory and law
When empty terrors overawe;
From vain temptations dost set free,
And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity!

There are who ask not if thine eye
Be on them; who, in love and truth
Where no misgiving is, rely
Upon the genial sense of youth:
Glad hearts! without reproach or blot,
Who do thy work, and know it not:
Oh! if through confidence misplaced
They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power! around them cast.

Serene will be our days and bright
And happy will our nature be
When love is an unerring light,
And joy its own security.
And they a blissful course may hold
Ev'n now, who, not unwisely bold,
Live in the spirit of this creed;
Yet seek thy firm support, according to their need.

I, loving freedom, and untried,
No sport of every random gust,
Yet being to myself a guide,
Too blindly have reposed my trust:
And oft, when in my heart was heard
Thy timely mandate, I deferr'd
The task, in smoother walks to stray;
But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may.

Through no disturbance of my soul
Or strong compunction in me wrought,
I supplicate for thy control,
But in the quietness of thought:
Me this uncharter'd freedom tires;
I feel the weight of chance-desires:
My hopes no more must change their name;
I long for a repose that ever is the same.

Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear
The Godhead's most benignant grace,
Nor know we anything so fair
As is the smile upon thy face;
Flowers laugh before thee on their beds,
And fragrance in thy footing treads;
Thou dost preserve the Stars from wrong;
And the most ancient Heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong.

To humbler functions, awful Power!
I call thee: I myself commend
Unto thy guidance from this hour;
Oh let my weakness have an end!
Give unto me, made lowly wise,
The spirit of self-sacrifice;
The confidence of reason give;
And in the light of truth thy Bondman let me live.

_William Wordsworth._


A ready and sincere friendliness is the one thing we can show to every
human being, whether we know him or not. The world is full of perplexed
and lonely people whom even a smile or a kind look will help. Yet that
which is so easy to give we too often reserve for a few, and those
perhaps the least appreciative.

I knew a girl who had a beau
And his name wasn't Adams -
No child of hers would ever call
The present writer "daddums."
I didn't love the girl, but still
I found her most beguiling;
And so did all the other chaps -
She did it with her smiling.
"I'm not a one-man girl," she said -
"Of smiles my beau first took his;
But some are left; I'll syndicate
And pass them round like cookies."

That syndicated smile!
When trouble seemed the most in style,
It heartened us -
That indicated,

It's not enough to please your boss
Or fawn round folks with bankrolls;
Be just as friendly to the guys
Whose homespun round their shank rolls.
The best investment in the world
Is goodwill, twenty carat;
It costs you nothing, brings returns;
So get yours out and air it.
A niggard of good nature cheats
Himself and wrongs his fellows.
You'd serve mankind? Then be less close
With friendly nods and helloes.

The syndicated smile!
If you have kept it all the while,
You've vindicated
The indicated,

_St. Clair Adams._


The great beneficent forces of life are not exhausted when once used,
but are recurrent. The sun rises afresh each new day. Once a year the
springtime returns and "God renews His ancient rapture." So it is with
our joys. They do not stay by us constantly; they pass from us and are
gone; but we need not trouble ourselves - they are sure to come back.

Shed no tear! O shed no tear!
The flower will bloom another year.
Weep no more! O weep no more!
Young buds sleep in the root's white core.
Dry your eyes! O dry your eyes,
For I was taught in Paradise
To ease my breast of melodies -
Shed no tear.

Overhead! look overhead,
'Mong the blossoms white and red -
Look up, look up - I flutter now
On this flush pomegranate bough.
See me! 'tis this silvery bill
Ever cures the good man's ill.
Shed no tear! O shed no tear!
The flowers will bloom another year.
Adieu, adieu - I fly, adieu,
I vanish in the heaven's blue -
Adieu, adieu!

_John Keats._


Some of us find joy in toil, some in art, some in the open air and the
sunshine. All of us find it in simply being alive. Life is the gift no
creature in his right mind would part with. As Milton asks,

"For who would lose,
Though full of pain, this intellectual being,
These thoughts that wander through eternity,
To perish rather, swallowed up and lost
In the wide womb of uncreated night,
Devoid of sense and motion?"

Praise the generous gods for giving
In a world of wrath and strife,
With a little time for living,
Unto all the joy of life.

At whatever source we drink it,
Art or love or faith or wine,
In whatever terms we think it,
It is common and divine.

Praise the high gods, for in giving
This to man, and this alone,
They have made his chance of living
Shine the equal of their own.

_William Ernest Henley._


We might as well accept the inevitable as the inevitable. There is no
escaping death or taxes.

Cowards die many times before their deaths:
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come, when it will come.

_William Shakespeare._


The Cumaean sibyl offered Tarquin the Proud nine books for what seemed
an exorbitant sum. He refused. She burned three of the books, and placed
the same price on the six as on the original nine. Again he refused. She
burned three more books, and offered the remainder for the sum she first
named. This time Tarquin accepted. The books were found to contain
prophecies and invaluable directions regarding Roman policy, but alas,
they were no longer complete. So it is with joy. To take it now is to
get it in its entirety. To defer until some other occasion is to get
less of it - at the same cost.

Today, whatever may annoy,
The word for it is Joy, just simple joy:
The joy of life;
The joy of children and of wife;
The joy of bright blue skies;
The joy of rain; the glad surprise
Of twinkling stars that shine at night;
The joy of winged things upon their flight;
The joy of noonday, and the tried,
True joyousness of eventide;
The joy of labor and of mirth;
The joy of air, and sea, and earth -
The countless joys that ever flow from Him
Whose vast beneficence doth dim
The lustrous light of day,
And lavish gifts divine upon our way.
Whatever there be of Sorrow
I'll put off till To-morrow,
And when To-morrow comes, why, then
'Twill be To-day, and Joy again!

_John Kendrick Bangs._

From "The Atlantic Monthly."


Franklin K. Lane stipulated that when he died his body should be
cremated and the ashes scattered from El Capitan over the beautiful
Yosemite Valley. He thus symbolized what many of us feel - the unity of
our deeper and finer selves with the eternal life and loveliness of

Oh seek me not within a tomb;
Thou shalt not find me in the clay!
I pierce a little wall of gloom
To mingle with the Day!

I brothered with the things that pass,
Poor giddy Joy and puckered Grief;
I go to brother with the Grass
And with the sunning Leaf.

Not Death can sheathe me in a shroud;
A joy-sword whetted keen with pain,
I join the armies of the Cloud
The Lightning and the Rain.

Oh subtle in the sap athrill,
Athletic in the glad uplift,
A portion of the Cosmic Will,
I pierce the planet-drift.

My God and I shall interknit
As rain and Ocean, breath and Air;
And oh, the luring thought of it
Is prayer!

_John G. Neihardt_

From "The Quest" (collected lyrics).


We all like a firm, straightforward chin provided it is not ruled by a
wagging, gossiping tongue.

This fellow's jaw is built so frail
That you could break it like a weed;
That fellow's chin retreats until
You'd think it in a wild stampede.
Defects like these but show how soon
The purpose droops, the spirits flag -
We like a jaw that's made of steel,
Just so it's not inclined to wag.

The lower jaw should be as strong
And changeless as a granite cliff;
Its very look should be a _thus_
And not a _maybe, somehow, if;_
Should mark a soul so resolute
It will not fear or cease or lag -
We need a rugged mandible,
Provided we don't let it wag.

Yes, with endurance, let it too
A tender modesty possess;
And to its grim strength let it add
The gracious power of gentleness.
Above all, let its might of deeds
Induce no loud or vulgar brag -
We like to see a good, firm jaw,
But do not wish to hear it wag.

_St. Clair Adams._


Age is wise; it attempts nothing impossible. Youth is wiser; it believes
nothing impossible. Age conserves more; youth accomplishes more. Between
the two is an irreconcilable difference.

"Crabbéd age and youth
Cannot live together,"

as Shakespeare says. And the sympathy of the world is with youth. It is
better so; for though many cherished things would be saved from
sacrifice if rash immaturity were more often checked, progress would be
stayed if life were dominated by sterile and repressive age.

Room for me, graybeards, room, make room!
Menace me not with your eyes of gloom;
Jostle me not from the place I seek,
For my arms are strong and your own are weak,
And if my plea to you be denied
I'll thrust your wearying forms aside.
Pity you? Yes, but I cannot stay;
I am the spirit of Youth; make way!

Room for me, timid ones, room, make room!
Little I care for your fret and fume -
I laugh at sorrow and jeer defeat;
To doubt and doubters I give the lie,
And fear is stilled as I swagger by,
And life's a fight and I seek the fray;
I am the spirit of Youth; make way!

Room for me, mighty ones, room, make room!
I fear no power and dread no doom;
And you who curse me and you who bless
Alike must bow to my dauntlessness.
I topple the king from his golden throne,
I smash old idols of brass and stone,
I am not hampered by yesterday.
Room for the spirit of Youth; make way!

Room for me, all of you, make me room!
Where the rifles clash and the cannon boom,
Where glory beckons or love or fame
I plunge me heedlessly in the game.
The old, the wary, the wise, the great,
They cannot stay me, for I am Fate,
The brave young master of all good play,
I am the spirit of Youth; make way!

_Berton Braley._

From "Things As They Are."

[Illustration: BERTON BRALEY]


"Sweet are the uses of adversity." They bring us benefits not otherwise
to be had. To mope because of them is foolish. Showers alternate with
sunshine, sorrows with pleasure, pain and weariness with comfort and
rest; but accept the one as necessary to the other, and you will enjoy

Is it raining, little flower?
Be glad of rain.
Too much sun would wither thee,
'Twill shine again.
The sky is very black, 'tis true,
But just behind it shines
The blue.

Art thou weary, tender heart?
Be glad of pain;
In sorrow the sweetest things will grow
As flowers in the rain.
God watches and thou wilt have sun
When clouds their perfect work
Have done.



In the old fable the tortoise won the race from the hare, not by a
single burst of speed, but by plodding on steadily, tirelessly. In the
Civil War it was found that Lee's army could not be overwhelmed in a
single battle, but one Federal general perceived that it could be worn
down by time and the pressure of numbers. "I propose," said Grant, "to
fight it out on this line if it takes all summer." It took more than a
summer; it took nearly a year - but he did it. In the moral realm
likewise, "All things excellent are as difficult as they are rare."
Character is not attained over-night. The only way to develop moral
muscles is to exercise them patiently and long.

Heaven is not reached at a single bound;
But we build the ladder by which we rise
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies,
And we mount to its summit, round by round.

I count this thing to be grandly true:
That a noble deed is a step towards God, -
Lifting the soul from the common clod
To a purer air and a broader view.

We rise by the things that are under feet;
By what we have mastered of good and gain;
By the pride deposed and the passion slain,
And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet.

We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we trust,
When the morning calls us to life and light,
But our hearts grow weary, and, ere the night,
Our lives are trailing the sordid dust.

We hope, we resolve, we aspire, we pray,
And we think that we mount the air on wings
Beyond the recall of sensual things,
While our feet still cling to the heavy clay.

Wings for the angels, but feet for men!
We may borrow the wings to find the way -
We may hope, and resolve, and aspire, and pray;
But our feet must rise, or we fall again.

Only in dreams is a ladder thrown
From the weary earth to the sapphire walls;
But the dreams depart, and the vision falls,
And the sleeper wakes on his pillow of stone.

Heaven is not reached at a single bound;
But we build the ladder by which we rise
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies,
And we mount to its summit, round by round.

_J.G. Holland._

From "Complete Poetical Writings."


Ardor of sinew and spirit - what else do we need to make our journey
prosperous and happy?

Stand straight:
Step firmly, throw your weight:
The heaven is high above your head,
The good gray road is faithful to your tread.

Be strong:
Sing to your heart a battle song:
Though hidden foemen lie in wait,
Something is in you that can smile at Fate.

Press through:
Nothing can harm if you are true.
And when the night comes, rest:
The earth is friendly as a mother's breast.

_Edwin Markham._

From "The Gates of Paradise, and Other Poems."


"What is life?" we ask. "Just one darned thing after another," the cynic
replies. Yes, a multiplicity of forces and interests, and each of them,
even the disagreeable, may be of real help to us. It's good for a dog,
says a shrewd philosopher, to be pestered with fleas; it keeps him from
thinking too much about being a dog.

What's life? A story or a song;
A race on any track;
A gay adventure, short or long,
A puzzling nut to crack;
A grinding task; a pleasant stroll;
A climb; a slide down hill;
A constant striving for a goal;
A cake; a bitter pill;
A pit where fortune flouts or stings;
A playground full of fun; -
With many any of these things;
With others all in one.
What's life? To love the things we see;
The hills that touch the skies;
The smiling sea; the laughing lea;
The light in woman's eyes;
To work and love the work we do;
To play a game that's square;
To grin a bit when feeling blue;
With friends our joys to share;
To smile, though games be lost or won;
To earn our daily bread; -
And when at last the day is done
To tumble into bed.

_Griffith Alexander,_

From "The Philadelphia Evening Public Ledger."


We must not dream of harvests and neglect the toil that produces them.

De fiel's 'll soon be hummin'
Roun' de country high en low;
De harves' is a-comin':
Hoe yo' row!
Hoe yo' row!

No time now fer de sleeper;
It's "Git up now, en go!"
It's de sower makes de reaper;
Hoe yo' row!
Hoe yo' row!

It's sweet de birds is singin'
De songs you lovin' so;
But de harves' bells is ringin';
Hoe yo' row!
Hoe yo' row!

_Frank L. Stanton._

From "The Atlanta Constitution."


It is bad enough to cry over spilt milk. But many of us do worse; we cry
over milk that we think is going to be spilt. In line 1 sic=such; 2,
a'=all; 3, nae=no; 4, enow=enough; 5, hae=have; sturt=fret, trouble.

But human bodies are sic fools,
For a' their colleges an' schools,
That when nae real ills perplex them,
They mak enow themsels to vex them;
An' ay the less they hae to sturt them,
In like proportion less will hurt them.

_Robert Burns_


A convict explained to a visitor why he had been sent to the
penitentiary. "They can't put you in here for that!" the visitor
exclaimed. "They did," replied the convict. So smiling seems a futile
thing. Apparently it cannot get us anywhere - but it does.

He came up smilin' - used to say

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