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.