Home and the Office

Home is the place where the laughter should ring,
 And man should be found at his best.
Let the cares of the day be as great as they may,
 The night has been fashioned for rest.
So leave at the door when the toiling is o'er
 All the burdens of worktime behind,
And just be a dad to your girl or your lad—
 A dad of the rollicking kind.

The office is made for the tasks you must face;
 It is built for the work you must do;
You may sit there and sigh as your cares pile up high,
 And no one may criticize you;
You may worry and fret as you think of your debt,
 You may grumble when plans go astray,
But when it comes night, and you shut your desk tight,
 Don't carry the burdens away.

Keep daytime for toil and the nighttime for play,
 Work as hard as you choose in the town,
But when the day ends, and the darkness descends,
 Just forget that you're wearing a frown—
Go home with a smile! Oh, you'll find it worth while;
 Go home light of heart and of mind;
Go home and be glad that you're loved as a dad,
 A dad of the fun-loving kind.

                                                                                  (Author unknown)

The Finest Fellowship

There may be finer pleasures than just tramping with your boy,
And better ways to spend a day; there may be sweeter joy;
There may be richer fellowship than that of son and dad,
But if there is, I know it not; it's one I've never had.

Oh, some may choose to walk with kings and men of pomp and pride,
But as for me, I choose to have my youngster at my side.
And some may like the rosy ways of grown-up pleasures glad,
But I would go a-wandering with just a little lad.

Yes, I would seek the woods with him and talk to him of trees,
And learn to know the birds a-wing and hear their melodies;
And I would drop all worldly care and be a boy awhile;
Then hand-in-hand come home at dusk to see the mother smile.

Grown men are wearisome at times, and selfish pleasures jar,
But sons and dads throughout the world the truest comrades are.
So when I want a perfect day with every joy that's fine,
I spend it in the open with that little lad o' mine. 

By Edgar Albert Guest

Don't Take Your Troubles To Bed.

    You may labor your fill, friend of mine, if you will;

      You may worry a bit, if you must;

    You may treat your affairs as a series of cares,

      You may live on a scrap and a crust;

    But when the day's done, put it out of your head;

    Don't take your troubles to bed.

    You may batter your way through the thick of the fray,

      You may sweat, you may swear, you may grunt;

    You may be a jack-fool if you must, but this rule

      Should ever be kept at the front:--

    Don't fight with your pillow, but lay down your head

    And kick every worriment out of the bed.

    That friend or that foe (which he is, I don't know),

      Whose name we have spoken as Death,

    Hovers close to your side, while you run or you ride,

      And he envies the warmth of your breath;

    But he turns him away, with a shake of his head,

    When he finds that you don't take your troubles to bed.

Author Unknown

The Path to Home

The Path to Home

THERE'S the mother at the doorway, and the children at the gate,

And the little parlor windows with the curtains white and straight.

There are shaggy asters blooming in the bed that lines the fence,

And the simplest of the blossoms seems of mighty consequence.

Oh, there isn't any mansion underneath God's starry dome

That can rest a weary pilgrim like the little place called home.

Men have sought for gold and silver; men have dreamed at night of fame;

In the heat of youth they've struggled for achievement's honored name;

But the selfish crowns are tinsel, and their shining jewels paste,

And the wine of pomp and glory soon grows bitter to the taste.

For there's never any laughter howsoever far you roam,

Like the laughter of the loved ones in the happiness of home.

-        

                                                                                                                                                                   Edgar Albert Guest

Success

           I hold no dream of fortune vast,

            Nor seek undying fame.

          I do not ask when life is past

            That many know my name.

          I may not own the skill to rise

            To glory's topmost height,

          Nor win a place among the wise,

            But I can keep the right.

          And I can live my life on earth

            Contented to the end,

          If but a few shall know my worth

            And proudly call me friend.

                                                                                                    

                                                                                        By Edgar A. Guest

You May Count That Day

A class of little settlement girls besought Mrs. George Herbert Palmer, one insufferable summer morning, to tell them how to be happy. "I'll give you three rules," she said, "and you must keep them every day for a week. First, commit something good to memory each day. Three or four words will do, just a pretty bit of poem, or a Bible verse. Do you understand?" A girl jumped up. "I know; you want us to learn something we'd be glad to remember if we went blind." Mrs. Palmer was relieved; these children understood. She gave the three rules--memorize something good each day, see something beautiful each day, do something helpful each day. When the children reported at the end of the week, not a single day had any of them lost. But hard put to it to obey her? Indeed they had been. One girl, kept for twenty-four hours within squalid home-walls by a rain, had nevertheless seen two beautiful things—a sparrow taking a bath in the gutter, and a gleam of sunlight on a baby's hair.

  If you sit down at set of sun

     And count the acts that you have done,

     And, counting, find

  One self-denying deed, one word

  That eased the heart of him who heard-

     One glance most kind,

  That fell like sunshine where it went-

  Then you may count that day well spent.

  But if, through all the livelong day,

  You've cheered no heart, by yea or nay-

     If, through it all

  You've nothing done that you can trace

  That brought the sunshine to one face-

     No act most small

  That helped some soul and nothing cost-

  Then count that day as worse than lost.

  

By George Eliot

Meetin' Trouble

Some students of biology planned a trick on their professor. They took the head of one beetle, the body of another of a totally different species, the wings of a third, the legs of a fourth. These members they carefully pasted together. Then they asked the professor what kind of bug the creature was. He answered promptly, "A humbug." Just such a monstrosity is trouble--especially future trouble. Some things about it are real, but the whole combined menace is only an illusion, not a thing which actually exists at all. Face the trouble itself; give no heed to that idea of it which invests it with a hundred dire calamities.

  Trouble in the distance seems all-fired big--

    Sorter makes you shiver when you look at it a-comin';

  Makes you wanter edge aside, er hide, er take a swig

    Of somethin' that is sure to set your worried head a-hummin'.

  Trouble in the distance is a mighty skeery feller--

  But wait until it reaches you afore you start to beller!

  Trouble standin' in th' road and frownin' at you, black,

    Makes you feel like takin' to the weeds along the way;

  Wish to goodness you could turn and hump yerself straight back;

    Know 'twill be awful when he gets you close at bay!

  Trouble standin' in the road is bound to make you shy--

  But wait until it reaches you afore you start to cry!

  Trouble face to face with you ain't pleasant, but you'll find

    That it ain't one-ha'f as big as fust it seemed to be;

  Stand up straight and bluff it out! Say, "I gotter a mind

    To shake my fist and skeer you off--you don't belong ter me!"

  Trouble face to face with you? Though you mayn't feel gay,

  Laugh at it as if you wuz--and it'll sneak away!

 by Everard Jack Appleton 

  From "The Quiet Courage."

Life

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

What's life? A story or a song;

    A race on any track;

  A gay adventure, short or long,

    A puzzling nut to crack;

  A grinding task; a pleasant stroll;

    A climb; a slide down hill;

  A constant striving for a goal;

    A cake; a bitter pill;

  A pit where fortune flouts or stings;

    A playground full of fun;

  With many any of these things;

    With others all in one.

  What's life? To love the things we see;

    The hills that touch the skies;

  The smiling sea; the laughing lea;

    The light in woman's eyes;

  To work and love the work we do;

    To play a game that's square;

  To grin a bit when feeling blue;

    With friends our joys to share;

  To smile, though games be lost or won;

    To earn our daily bread;

  And when at last the day is done

    To tumble into bed.

  

by Griffith Alexander

From "The Philadelphia Evening Public Ledger."

The Stone Rejected

          The story here poetically retold of the great Florentine sculptor shows how much a lofty spirit may make of unpromising material.

  For years it had been trampled in the street

  Of Florence by the drift of heedless feet--

  The stone that star-touched Michael Angelo

  Turned to that marble loveliness we know.

  You mind the tale--how he was passing by

  When the rude marble caught his Jovian eye,

  That stone men had dishonored and had thrust

  Out to the insult of the wayside dust.

  He stooped to lift it from its mean estate,

  And bore it on his shoulder to the gate,

  Where all day long a hundred hammers rang.

  And soon his chisel round the marble sang,

  And suddenly the hidden angel shone:

  It had been waiting prisoned in the stone.

  Thus came the cherub with the laughing face

  That long has lighted up an altar-place.

By Edwin Markham.

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

Keep sweet.

Even the direst catastrophes may be softened by our attitude to them.

Charles II said to those who had gathered about his deathbed: "You'll

pardon any little lapses, gentlemen. I've never done this thing before."

  Don't be foolish and get sour when things don't just come your way--

  Don't you be a pampered baby and declare, "Now I won't play!"

      Just go grinning on and bear it;

      Have you heartache? Millions share it,

      If you earn a crown, you'll wear it--

                  Keep sweet.

  Don't go handing out your troubles to your busy fellow-men

  If you whine around they'll try to keep from meeting you again;

      Don't declare the world's "agin" you,

      Don't let pessimism win you,

      Prove there's lots of good stuff in you--

                  Keep sweet.

  If your dearest hopes seem blighted and despair looms into view,

  Set your jaw and whisper grimly, "Though they're false, yet I'll be true."

      Never let your heart grow bitter;

      With your lips to Hope's transmitter,

      Hear Love's songbirds bravely twitter,

                  "Keep sweet."

  Bless your heart, this world's a good one, and will always help a man;

  Hate, misanthropy, and malice have no place in Nature's plan.

      Help your brother there who's sighing.

      Keep his flag of courage flying;

      Help him try- 'twill keep you trying

                  Keep sweet.

  

by Strickland W. Gillilan.

Appreciation

  Life's a bully good game with its kicks and cuffs--

    Some smile, some laugh, some bluff;

  Some carry a load too heavy to bear

    While some push on with never a care,

  But the load will seldom heavy be

    When I appreciate you and you appreciate me.

  He who lives by the side of the road

    And helps to bear his brother's load

  May seem to travel lone and long

    While the world goes by with a merry song,

  But the heart grows warm and sorrows flee

    When I appreciate you and you appreciate me.

  When I appreciate you and you appreciate me,

    The road seems short to victory;

  It buoys one up and calls "Come on,"

    And days grow brighter with the dawn;

  There is no doubt or mystery

    When I appreciate you and you appreciate me.

  It's the greatest thought in heaven or earth--

    It helps us know our fellow's worth;

  There'd be no wars or bitterness,

    No fear, no hate, no grasping; yes,

  It makes work play, and the careworn free

    When I appreciate you and you appreciate me.

 By William Judson Kibby,

Morality

We can't always, even when accomplishing, have the ardor of accomplishment; we can only hold to the purpose formed in more inspired hours. After a work is finished, even though it be a good work which our final judgment will approve, we are likely to be oppressed for a time by the anxieties we have passed through; the comfort of effort has left us, and we recall our dreams, our intentions, beside which our actual achievement seems small. In such moments we should remember that just after the delivery of the Gettysburg Address Lincoln believed it an utter failure. Yet the address was a masterpiece of commemorative oratory.

  

  We cannot kindle when we will

    The fire which in the heart resides;

  The spirit bloweth and is still,

  In mystery our soul abides.

    But tasks in hours of insight will'd

    Can be through hours of gloom fulfill'd

  With aching hands and bleeding feet

  We dig and heap, lay stone on stone;

  We bear the burden and the heat

  Of the long day and wish 'twere done.

    Not till the hours of light return,

    All we have built do we discern.

  

                       by Matthew Arnold

Opportunity

Procrastination is not only the thief of time; it is also the grave of opportunity.

  In an old city by the storied shores

  Where the bright summit of Olympus soars,

  A cryptic statue mounted towards the light

  Heel-winged, tip-toed, and poised for instant flight.

  "O statue, tell your name," a traveler cried,

  And solemnly the marble lips replied:

  "Men call me Opportunity: I lift

  My winged feet from earth to show how swift

  My flight, how short my stay

  How Fate is ever waiting on the way."

  "But why that tossing ringlet on your brow?"

  "That men may seize me any moment:  Now,

  NOW is my other name: to-day my date:

  O traveler, to-morrow is too late!"

By Edwin Markham.  

Song of Endeavor

Don Quixote discovered that there are no eggs in last year's bird's-nests. Many of us waste our time in regrets for the past, without seeming to perceive that hope lies only in endeavor for the future.

   'Tis not by wishing that we gain the prize,

    Nor yet by ruing,

  But from our falling, learning how to rise,

    And tireless doing.

  The idols broken, nor our tears and sighs,

    May yet restore them.

  Regret is only for fools; the wise

    Look but before them.

  Nor ever yet Success was wooed with tears;

    To notes of gladness

  Alone the fickle goddess turns her ears,

    She hears not sadness.

  The heart thrives not in the dull rain and mist

    Of gloomy pining.

  The sweetest flowers are the flowers sun-kissed,

    Where glad light's shining.

  Look not behind thee; there is only dust

    And vain regretting.

  The lost tide ebbs; in the next flood thou must

    Learn, by forgetting.

  For the lost chances be ye not distressed

    To endless weeping;

  Be not the thrush that o'er the empty nest

    Is vigil keeping.

  But in new efforts our regrets to-day

    To stillness whiling,

  Let us in some pure purpose find the way

    To future smiling.

  

By James W. Foley.

My Wage

This poem is alerting us to the belief of "ask, and ye shall receive". If we were to ask for a low wage because we believed that we don't deserve more, life will very surely pay us a low wage. However, if we dare to ask for bigger things and are willing to shoulder the responsibilities, then just as likely we'll get what we've asked for

I bargained with Life for a penny,

And Life would pay no more,

However I begged at evening

When I counted my scanty store;

For Life is a just employer,

He gives you what you ask,

But once you have set the wages,

Why, you must bear the task.

I worked for a menial's hire,

Only to learn, dismayed,

That any wage I had asked of Life,

Life would have paid.

by Jessie B. Rittenhouse

Looking Back

I might have been rich if I'd wanted the gold

instead of the friendships I've made.

I might have had fame if I'd sought for renown

in the hours when I purposely played.

Now I'm standing to-day on the far edge of life,

and I'm just looking backward to see           

What I've done with the years and the days that were mine,

and all that has happened to me.

I haven't built much of a fortune to leave

to those who shall carry my name,

And nothing I've done shall entitle me now

to a place on the tablets of fame.

But I've loved the great sky and its spaces of blue;

I've lived with the birds and the trees;

I've turned from the splendor of silver and gold

to share in such pleasures as these.

I've given my time to the children who came;

together we've romped and we've played,

And I wouldn't exchange the glad hours spent

with them for the money that I might have made.

I chose to be known and be loved by the few,

and was deaf to the plaudits of men;

And I'd make the same choice should the chance

come to me to live my life over again.

I've lived with my friends and I've shared in their joys,

known sorrow with all of its tears;

I have harvested much from my acres of life,

though some say I've squandered my years.

For much that is fine has been mine to enjoy,

and I think I have lived to my best,

And I have no regret, as I'm nearing the end,

for the gold that I might have possessed.

                                                         by Edgar A. Guest

It Takes Courage

It takes strength to be firm,

It takes courage to be gentle.

                

It takes strength to conquer,

It takes courage to surrender.

It takes strength to be certain,

It takes courage to have doubt.

It takes strength to fit in,

It takes courage to stand out.

It takes strength to feel a friend's pain,

It takes courage to feel your own pain.

It takes strength to endure abuse,

It takes courage to stop it.

It takes strength to stand alone,

It takes courage to lean on another.

It takes strength to love,

It takes courage to be loved.

It takes strength to survive,

It takes courage to live.

by Author Unknown