Don't you dare to tell meLove is old and gray!He's as young and rosyAs the blooms of May!Don't you dare to tell meLove is wed with wrong!All his deeds are holyWith the smiles of song!Don't you dare to tell meLove is only strife!Hands of his shall lead usTo the perfect life!Love and hope with happyFeet shall scale the sky,Through the dismal shadowsTo the bye and bye!
Don't you dare to tell meLove is old and gray!He's as young and rosyAs the blooms of May!
Don't you dare to tell meLove is wed with wrong!All his deeds are holyWith the smiles of song!
Don't you dare to tell meLove is only strife!Hands of his shall lead usTo the perfect life!
Love and hope with happyFeet shall scale the sky,Through the dismal shadowsTo the bye and bye!
"Has the Legislature done much?" inquired one anxious citizen of another.
"No, not much," was the answer. "Its principal act was to pass a bill repealing Ground Hog day, but they fear the Governor will veto it."
When the heart grows wearyOf the storm and strife,Don't you worry, dearie,'Tis the way of life!'Tis the way we wanderThrough the world of wrong;Sorrow makes us fonderOf the smile and song.Don't you weep or wearyAt the storm and strife:Love shall lead us, dearie,Through this tangled life!
When the heart grows wearyOf the storm and strife,Don't you worry, dearie,'Tis the way of life!
'Tis the way we wanderThrough the world of wrong;Sorrow makes us fonderOf the smile and song.
Don't you weep or wearyAt the storm and strife:Love shall lead us, dearie,Through this tangled life!
Some one's contrariness is responsible for nine-tenths of life's tragedies.
Popularity is an ice-box where men are preserved in cold storage against the fickle mob's changes in temperature.
When you board the train of life for the city of happiness, don't let Conductor Sorrow ring the bell and drop you off at the wrong station. Check your baggage through, and don't use the sleeping-car too much.
(Note: The press dispatches indicate that Uncle Joe Cannon, Speaker of the House of Representatives, is doing all he can to defeat the Statehood bill.)
If Uncle Joe'd come off the perch and let us build a stateWe'd resolute to beat the band and call him wise and great;We'd hand him taffy, chunk on chunk, and sling the sugar outTill that old duffer'd surely think he's what you read about:But your Uncle Joe is mighty and he has a stubborn will,And he's done malicious murder to the Statehood bill!It is true the bill is faulty; it is true if we'd our way,It would need a lot of fixing ere it saw the light of day;But we beggars are not choosers, and just any sort of stateNow would set the anvils roaring when we came to celebrate;And we think he's small potatoes and quite scanty in the hillWhen he sets himself to knocking on the Statehood bill!
If Uncle Joe'd come off the perch and let us build a stateWe'd resolute to beat the band and call him wise and great;We'd hand him taffy, chunk on chunk, and sling the sugar outTill that old duffer'd surely think he's what you read about:But your Uncle Joe is mighty and he has a stubborn will,And he's done malicious murder to the Statehood bill!
It is true the bill is faulty; it is true if we'd our way,It would need a lot of fixing ere it saw the light of day;But we beggars are not choosers, and just any sort of stateNow would set the anvils roaring when we came to celebrate;And we think he's small potatoes and quite scanty in the hillWhen he sets himself to knocking on the Statehood bill!
If he'd just be rather friendly, we would praise him up a bitAnd we'd give him such a jolly that he'd lose his nerve and quit;But he carries him so haughty and he bangs his hands so loudThat he scares the day-lights out us and he frightens all the crowd;And whate'er his plan or purpose, it is plain he's bound to killThat sweet child of all the statesmen that we call the Statehood bill!If he'd listen to our troubles and his haughtiness relax,Then the bill we love and cherish would escape the butcher's axBut with him across the pathway, it as plain as day appearsThat our hopes are only rainbows and we chase them down the years;Oh, we wish him every gladness and we never wish him ill,But we hope he'll quit his meanness to the Statehood bill!Uncle Joey! Uncle Joey! Won't you for the once be good?Won't you let us find fruition for the hopes misunderstood?If you'll only mend your manners and repenting let us inWe will jolly you forever, we will pat your cheek and chin;Or we'll lay for you till doom's-day and we'll then be hoping stillThat the boys will overrule you and will save the Statehood bill!
If he'd just be rather friendly, we would praise him up a bitAnd we'd give him such a jolly that he'd lose his nerve and quit;But he carries him so haughty and he bangs his hands so loudThat he scares the day-lights out us and he frightens all the crowd;And whate'er his plan or purpose, it is plain he's bound to killThat sweet child of all the statesmen that we call the Statehood bill!
If he'd listen to our troubles and his haughtiness relax,Then the bill we love and cherish would escape the butcher's axBut with him across the pathway, it as plain as day appearsThat our hopes are only rainbows and we chase them down the years;Oh, we wish him every gladness and we never wish him ill,But we hope he'll quit his meanness to the Statehood bill!
Uncle Joey! Uncle Joey! Won't you for the once be good?Won't you let us find fruition for the hopes misunderstood?If you'll only mend your manners and repenting let us inWe will jolly you forever, we will pat your cheek and chin;Or we'll lay for you till doom's-day and we'll then be hoping stillThat the boys will overrule you and will save the Statehood bill!
"Is the Legislature passing any big bills?" inquired Weston.
"No I think not," said Preston. "I was over there the other day, and I couldn't even hear the crinkle of one bigger than $10!"
The homely virtues may be old, but they are still young enough to carry the world's burdens.
The crust on the pie at a charity dinner may be long, but it covers a multitude of culinary sins.
Every good thing in this world costs money; and since experience is the best thing of life it is always expensive, also.
Oh, no matter what the weeping,Or what awful ills betide!Let us walk the ways of gladnessOn the happy, sunny side!When the sorrows come and settleWith their tears and cares and pride,Don't believe their tales of sadness,For there's still a sunny side!What's the use to go to weepingWhen the shadows wander wide?For the sun is shining somewhereAnd there's yet a sunny side!It's no diff'rence what the weather,What the flow of wind or tide;There's the holy joy of livingAnd God keeps a sunny side!
Oh, no matter what the weeping,Or what awful ills betide!Let us walk the ways of gladnessOn the happy, sunny side!
When the sorrows come and settleWith their tears and cares and pride,Don't believe their tales of sadness,For there's still a sunny side!
What's the use to go to weepingWhen the shadows wander wide?For the sun is shining somewhereAnd there's yet a sunny side!
It's no diff'rence what the weather,What the flow of wind or tide;There's the holy joy of livingAnd God keeps a sunny side!
Don't sit down so lonesomeThrough the speeding years;Drink the wines of gladnessAnd forget the tears.Life goes down the distanceSwift as eagle's flight;Stop to say "Good-morning."And it ends "Good-night!"
Don't sit down so lonesomeThrough the speeding years;Drink the wines of gladnessAnd forget the tears.
Life goes down the distanceSwift as eagle's flight;Stop to say "Good-morning."And it ends "Good-night!"
Don't you worry at the winter!There's a streak of shine about,And before the storm is overThere's a daisy peeping out!Spring is coming clothed in beauty,And her lilies laughing whiteWait beneath the melting snow-driftsFor the days of their delight!Over yonder smile the gardens,And the sky above is blue;And your sweet-heart trips the meadowsWith the roses red for you!
Don't you worry at the winter!There's a streak of shine about,And before the storm is overThere's a daisy peeping out!
Spring is coming clothed in beauty,And her lilies laughing whiteWait beneath the melting snow-driftsFor the days of their delight!
Over yonder smile the gardens,And the sky above is blue;And your sweet-heart trips the meadowsWith the roses red for you!
A man's conscience preaches more eloquent sermons than the Savior on the Mount.
If men were less evil, it would be much easier for their fellows to walk the narrow way.
If the Bible reduced virtue to a mathematical demonstration of its cheapness over Vice, the mourner's bench would break down with the repentant sinners.
At the end of the dayWhat reward shall we gainFor the pleasures of playAnd the presence of pain?When the sun shall have setWhat reward shall we get?As we sing and we sighThrough the years' tangled ways,Through the winter's wild cry,Through the blooms of the Mays,—When the years all have set,What reward shall we get?Through the battle and strife,Through the right and the wrong,We shall climb to the lifeWhere the years are a song;When the sun shall have set,There's a crown we shall get!
At the end of the dayWhat reward shall we gainFor the pleasures of playAnd the presence of pain?When the sun shall have setWhat reward shall we get?
As we sing and we sighThrough the years' tangled ways,Through the winter's wild cry,Through the blooms of the Mays,—When the years all have set,What reward shall we get?
Through the battle and strife,Through the right and the wrong,We shall climb to the lifeWhere the years are a song;When the sun shall have set,There's a crown we shall get!
If the Luxuries and Vices were banished from this world, Virtue would get so rich in a twelve-month that she would summon them all back and give them greater liberties than they enjoyed before.
"Ah done tole yuh, Sam, dat new pweacheh ob ouahs am de bestes' man in de pulpit dat ebbeh Ah see."
"How come, Rastus?"
"Why, doan't yuh know, de otheh night when de weatheh wuz so mighty col', he nebbeh said a wohd ehbout hell-fiah, but jes' exhohted ehbout hebben bein' a wahm en pleasan' place whah de flowehs bloom en de wohteh millions git red heahts de whole yeah roun'; en sebenteen ob dem young sinnehs come up to de mohneh's bench en got 'ligion mighty quick!"
"And what is the peculiar derangement of this patient?" asked a visitor of the Superintendent of the Insane Asylum, as an especially abject victim was seen writhing and cowering in a padded cell.
"O, he is not insane,—he is just a common idiot," said the Superintendent. "He sent comic valentines, and they had no other place to put him!"
As life with its gloriesCrowds close in the light,Tell pleasure good-morningAnd sorrow good-night.No matter what fortuneComes down in swift flight,Tell pleasure good-morningAnd sorrow good-night.Walk still in the sunshine,Where blossoms bloom bright;Tell pleasure good-morningAnd sorrow good-night.And out through the orchardsWhere mirth rules in might,Tell pleasure good-morningAnd sorrow good-night!
As life with its gloriesCrowds close in the light,Tell pleasure good-morningAnd sorrow good-night.
No matter what fortuneComes down in swift flight,Tell pleasure good-morningAnd sorrow good-night.
Walk still in the sunshine,Where blossoms bloom bright;Tell pleasure good-morningAnd sorrow good-night.
And out through the orchardsWhere mirth rules in might,Tell pleasure good-morningAnd sorrow good-night!
It is always easy to find plenty of weeds in the garden of life, if you are looking for weeds; but then even the weeds have blossoms of love upon them!
When Kansas gets her dander up and reaches for her gun,I think some folks will chase themselves and hike out on the run;I think the railroads will be good, John D. come off the perchAnd christianize the Standard Oil until it joins the church;I think the trusts and wicked men that once were all so badWill mercy pray when once they know that Kansas can get mad!The people there have stood a lot since first the state began;They'vepassed through many trying times as varied seasons ran;They've had the drouth, survived the flood, and isms good and illHave overcome with sturdy heart and never-dying will;But now with patience broken quite new battles must be won:And Kansas has her dander up and reaches for her gun!The Octopus must watch his ways and guard his awful arms,And keep his eyes peeled mighty close around the Kansas farms;The days of peace are over there! too long the robber-trustHas rifled all their pocket-books and left them but a crust;But Kansas has a sudden way of stopping all the fun,When once she gets her dander up and reaches for her gun!"John Brown of Ossawatomie!" There's freedom in the phrase!St. John with prohibition and old Peffer with his craze!And now the world is waiting for the fire-works and the sightsWhen Trusts will get insomnia and lie awake of nights;For she will take the bakery and capture every bun,When Kansas gets her dander up and reaches for her gun!O, bold and reckless financiers! Take warning ere you fall!You'd better stop awhile and read the writing on the wall!Your hands are red with human blood, they're dripping human gore,And by the gods above they swear, you shall not rule them more;With hands that act, with hearts that dare, she'll get you every one,For Kansas has her dander up and reaches for her gun!
When Kansas gets her dander up and reaches for her gun,I think some folks will chase themselves and hike out on the run;I think the railroads will be good, John D. come off the perchAnd christianize the Standard Oil until it joins the church;I think the trusts and wicked men that once were all so badWill mercy pray when once they know that Kansas can get mad!
The people there have stood a lot since first the state began;They'vepassed through many trying times as varied seasons ran;They've had the drouth, survived the flood, and isms good and illHave overcome with sturdy heart and never-dying will;But now with patience broken quite new battles must be won:And Kansas has her dander up and reaches for her gun!
The Octopus must watch his ways and guard his awful arms,And keep his eyes peeled mighty close around the Kansas farms;The days of peace are over there! too long the robber-trustHas rifled all their pocket-books and left them but a crust;But Kansas has a sudden way of stopping all the fun,When once she gets her dander up and reaches for her gun!
"John Brown of Ossawatomie!" There's freedom in the phrase!St. John with prohibition and old Peffer with his craze!And now the world is waiting for the fire-works and the sightsWhen Trusts will get insomnia and lie awake of nights;For she will take the bakery and capture every bun,When Kansas gets her dander up and reaches for her gun!
O, bold and reckless financiers! Take warning ere you fall!You'd better stop awhile and read the writing on the wall!Your hands are red with human blood, they're dripping human gore,And by the gods above they swear, you shall not rule them more;With hands that act, with hearts that dare, she'll get you every one,For Kansas has her dander up and reaches for her gun!
The language of love is mostly adjectives of the superlative degree.
At twenty, life is purpose; at thirty, doubt; at forty, philosophy; and after that, experience.
No woman ever was so much of a woman that she was not still enough of a child to enjoy being petted and flattered.
Rolling on to glory,Still the old world goes!Still the ancient storyOf the wants and woes;Here a little sighing,There a little song,Preaching, praying, dying,Down the ways of wrong!Rolling on to glory,Still the old world goes,Through the battles goryOf the friends and foes!Here it sees a vision,There it gains a truth,Moving with precisionTo immortal youth!Keep the laughter sunnyAs you walk the night:Neither might nor moneyBrings the living light!Still the ancient storyLove, the Wonder, knows:Rolling on to gloryStill the old world goes!
Rolling on to glory,Still the old world goes!Still the ancient storyOf the wants and woes;Here a little sighing,There a little song,Preaching, praying, dying,Down the ways of wrong!
Rolling on to glory,Still the old world goes,Through the battles goryOf the friends and foes!Here it sees a vision,There it gains a truth,Moving with precisionTo immortal youth!
Keep the laughter sunnyAs you walk the night:Neither might nor moneyBrings the living light!Still the ancient storyLove, the Wonder, knows:Rolling on to gloryStill the old world goes!
Don't fall out with life, my brother;It will please, you like as not;If you'll sort its pleasures over,You will find it worth the living,And it's all the one you've got!You would better keep it friendlyAnd not rib it up to fight:It will play you joyous music,It will give you love unceasing,If you only treat it right!Don't fall out with life, my brother,If it slaps you in the face:Every time it brings a shadow,Every time it gives a sorrow,There's a rain-bow 'round the place;O, its heart is filled with pleasureAnd its raptures slay the wrong;All the stars repeat its praises,All the suns exalt its glory,And you'd better join the song!Don't fall out with life, my brother!If it has the wintry snows,There's the scarlet of the summer,There's the russet of the autum,With the lily and the rose;It holds harvests for your labor,It has crowns for you to win;Open wide the glory-shutters,Fling the doors of deeds far-open,Till the sunshine saunters in!
Don't fall out with life, my brother;It will please, you like as not;If you'll sort its pleasures over,You will find it worth the living,And it's all the one you've got!You would better keep it friendlyAnd not rib it up to fight:It will play you joyous music,It will give you love unceasing,If you only treat it right!
Don't fall out with life, my brother,If it slaps you in the face:Every time it brings a shadow,Every time it gives a sorrow,There's a rain-bow 'round the place;O, its heart is filled with pleasureAnd its raptures slay the wrong;All the stars repeat its praises,All the suns exalt its glory,And you'd better join the song!
Don't fall out with life, my brother!If it has the wintry snows,There's the scarlet of the summer,There's the russet of the autum,With the lily and the rose;It holds harvests for your labor,It has crowns for you to win;Open wide the glory-shutters,Fling the doors of deeds far-open,Till the sunshine saunters in!
"Are the members of the legislature extravagant in their habits?" inquired a suspicious citizen of a press reporter.
"No, not at all!" answered the veracious reporter. "I know several of them who came here at the beginning of the session with a clean shirt and a five-dollar bill, and they haven't changed either of them yet!"
Away from the Winter and all his wild ways,To the blossoms that smile in the spring's laughing days,—To the rivers that singIn the gladness of spring,Where the birds cleave the air on the love-laden wing!Away from the walks of the snow-smitten townTo the fields where the bees for the honeys go down,To the vales and the hills,And the love-singing rills,And the song of disconsolate, grieved whippoor-wills!Away to the paths where the white lilies growAnd the daisies besprinkle the meadows below;Where the roses blush newIn the arms of the dew,And the stars toss the sweets of their kisses at you!
Away from the Winter and all his wild ways,To the blossoms that smile in the spring's laughing days,—To the rivers that singIn the gladness of spring,Where the birds cleave the air on the love-laden wing!
Away from the walks of the snow-smitten townTo the fields where the bees for the honeys go down,To the vales and the hills,And the love-singing rills,And the song of disconsolate, grieved whippoor-wills!
Away to the paths where the white lilies growAnd the daisies besprinkle the meadows below;Where the roses blush newIn the arms of the dew,And the stars toss the sweets of their kisses at you!
Don't you worry at stupidity! It may be trying someJust to keep your patience present when the dullard pounds the drum,And the discord of his rumpus fills the palace of your soulWith a horrid inclination that you hardly can control;But the world keeps making music, and as on the ages flyIt will learn the angel chorus, and will sing it bye and bye!Don't you worry at the darkness! It may seem a little thickAs through life's entangled thickets you your pathways try to pick,And the struggle for advancement seems so bitter as you roamThrough these vagrant ways of wonder to the beacon-lights of home;Over yonder shines God's lantern! And the shadows all shall die,In the glories of the sunshine when we reach the bye and bye!Don't you worry at the winter! When the snow is all about;It may seem a time of trouble for the blossoms peeping out,And the sere leases of the forest and the dead grass of the hillsBring a set-back to the roses and the lilies have the chills;But the world is rolling onward! and the spring is drawing nigh,When the birds will spill their music through the blossoms bye and bye!There's no need to get impatient! All the tangled ways will cease,All the outer darkness vanish, all the battles end in peace;All the griefs that vex and hurt us, all the ills that worry so,Shall forsake the roads we wander and the weary paths we go!Up and on the world forever! Up and on to meet the sky,And the Good shall slay the Evil in the blessed bye and bye!
Don't you worry at stupidity! It may be trying someJust to keep your patience present when the dullard pounds the drum,And the discord of his rumpus fills the palace of your soulWith a horrid inclination that you hardly can control;But the world keeps making music, and as on the ages flyIt will learn the angel chorus, and will sing it bye and bye!
Don't you worry at the darkness! It may seem a little thickAs through life's entangled thickets you your pathways try to pick,And the struggle for advancement seems so bitter as you roamThrough these vagrant ways of wonder to the beacon-lights of home;Over yonder shines God's lantern! And the shadows all shall die,In the glories of the sunshine when we reach the bye and bye!
Don't you worry at the winter! When the snow is all about;It may seem a time of trouble for the blossoms peeping out,And the sere leases of the forest and the dead grass of the hillsBring a set-back to the roses and the lilies have the chills;But the world is rolling onward! and the spring is drawing nigh,When the birds will spill their music through the blossoms bye and bye!
There's no need to get impatient! All the tangled ways will cease,All the outer darkness vanish, all the battles end in peace;All the griefs that vex and hurt us, all the ills that worry so,Shall forsake the roads we wander and the weary paths we go!Up and on the world forever! Up and on to meet the sky,And the Good shall slay the Evil in the blessed bye and bye!
There is war throughout the country! Don't you hear it rage and roarFrom the West Virginia mountains to the California shore,O'er the Illinois prairies and the valleys of Mizzoo,Far across the plains of Kansas and of Oklahoma, too?'Tis the people that are marching! They've a purpose that is just;They have left the reservation and are smashing at the Trust.It has been a time of patience; for the folks were slow to wrath,And they thought to go it easy down the Standard's stony path!But the loads were heaped too heavy, and the patient oxen brokeFrom the proddings of the drivers and they splintered up the yoke;And however much the masters shout their curses through the dust,They have quit the reservation and are out to smash the trust!Yet it was no sudden movement that expanded in a night:It for months and years was coming with tornadoes full of might:And the fuse was in the powder and the sure result was seenWhen Tom Lawson stuck a fagot in the mighty magazine!Then the people knew the Issue! Either yield or fight they must,So they quit the reservation and went out to smash the trust!Tommy Lawson! Tommy Lawson! What a naughty boy you are,Stirring up the people this way till they rise and shout for war!Don't you wish you hadn't done it? You are like to break the ruleOf the "System" and the Standard and disrupt the Sunday School!For the people are so earnest, in the ire of their disgustThey have left the reservation and are out to smash the trust!
There is war throughout the country! Don't you hear it rage and roarFrom the West Virginia mountains to the California shore,O'er the Illinois prairies and the valleys of Mizzoo,Far across the plains of Kansas and of Oklahoma, too?'Tis the people that are marching! They've a purpose that is just;They have left the reservation and are smashing at the Trust.
It has been a time of patience; for the folks were slow to wrath,And they thought to go it easy down the Standard's stony path!But the loads were heaped too heavy, and the patient oxen brokeFrom the proddings of the drivers and they splintered up the yoke;And however much the masters shout their curses through the dust,They have quit the reservation and are out to smash the trust!
Yet it was no sudden movement that expanded in a night:It for months and years was coming with tornadoes full of might:And the fuse was in the powder and the sure result was seenWhen Tom Lawson stuck a fagot in the mighty magazine!Then the people knew the Issue! Either yield or fight they must,So they quit the reservation and went out to smash the trust!
Tommy Lawson! Tommy Lawson! What a naughty boy you are,Stirring up the people this way till they rise and shout for war!Don't you wish you hadn't done it? You are like to break the ruleOf the "System" and the Standard and disrupt the Sunday School!For the people are so earnest, in the ire of their disgustThey have left the reservation and are out to smash the trust!
If the bad people never made scandal, what would the good people have to talk about?
Opportunity may call once, but she never rings the bell for the servant when she finds us visiting our wife's folks.
The lazy man is always willing to give the hustler a big percentage for collecting the living that the world owes him.
Don't make a trade with Trouble!He would buy you bargain cheap,And you'd have to pay a ransomThat would climb up mighty steep!Don't sell yourself to Trouble,'Cause he banters you each day!Out beyond the snows of laborWait the blossomings of play!Don't make a trade with Trouble!Never stop to name a price;Tell him plain he'd better travelWithout any more advice!Troublenever paid a dollarOf the mighty debt he owes;Don't sell yourself to TroubleAnd the sorrows that he knows!
Don't make a trade with Trouble!He would buy you bargain cheap,And you'd have to pay a ransomThat would climb up mighty steep!
Don't sell yourself to Trouble,'Cause he banters you each day!Out beyond the snows of laborWait the blossomings of play!
Don't make a trade with Trouble!Never stop to name a price;Tell him plain he'd better travelWithout any more advice!
Troublenever paid a dollarOf the mighty debt he owes;Don't sell yourself to TroubleAnd the sorrows that he knows!
The Devil has such a good appetite that you can't afford to have him boarding at your hotel.
Broken heads are more numerous than broken hearts, and they also pay more fines in the police court.
When Faith and Hope leave a woman's heart, it is entirely empty of the graces; for Charity never had a home there.
Life, and the trouble that comes along,—Life and the griefs it carries;But Love comes by with her lips of song,And the joy that forever tarries!Life and the love and the bliss supreme,—Life and the smiles of gladness;And the song she sings is a holy dreamWhere the soul forgets the sadness!
Life, and the trouble that comes along,—Life and the griefs it carries;But Love comes by with her lips of song,And the joy that forever tarries!
Life and the love and the bliss supreme,—Life and the smiles of gladness;And the song she sings is a holy dreamWhere the soul forgets the sadness!
We walk in the present as roamed we the past,With gladness before us and joys unsurpassed,And Love lights the new days as Love lit the old,With the smile of her joy and the laugh of her gold!The world and its sorrows no longer supremeFade away in the smiles of the wonderful dream,And the light of its love overshines the abodeOf the shadows that falleth on beautiful road.O, Sorrow, stay far in the desolate night,Where the black of your wings bears the black of your flight,And hasten, O tears, down the deserts that lieIn the silences vast of the bleak bye-and-bye!O, Joy, tune the stars till they sing through the night,While Love wreaths the lilies of Good with delight,—Till the stars fill the earth with the seraphim song,And Love with her garlands hides all of the wrong!
We walk in the present as roamed we the past,With gladness before us and joys unsurpassed,And Love lights the new days as Love lit the old,With the smile of her joy and the laugh of her gold!
The world and its sorrows no longer supremeFade away in the smiles of the wonderful dream,And the light of its love overshines the abodeOf the shadows that falleth on beautiful road.
O, Sorrow, stay far in the desolate night,Where the black of your wings bears the black of your flight,And hasten, O tears, down the deserts that lieIn the silences vast of the bleak bye-and-bye!
O, Joy, tune the stars till they sing through the night,While Love wreaths the lilies of Good with delight,—Till the stars fill the earth with the seraphim song,And Love with her garlands hides all of the wrong!
It's no use to court the shadows!They will hide your heart in night!If you want to gather rosesYou must linger in the light!
It's no use to court the shadows!They will hide your heart in night!If you want to gather rosesYou must linger in the light!
O, it's good-bye, Mister Speaker, when the motion to adjournSays the stuff is off forever and forbids us to return!And there's much of tears and laughter, much rejoicing and regret,At the measures we enacted and the things we didn't get;But the sixty days are over! And this hope each heart imbuesThat the people are forgiving and our errors will excuse!It was sixty days of labor with but little recompense;It was sixty days of struggle with the rivalries intense;It was sixty days of effort to enthrone the people's will,And to legislate the good things and the evil things to kill;And if we but scanty trophies for our battles can display,Still it's good-bye, Mister Speaker! We are going home today!We have found there's something mighty in the large affairs of state,And we know beyond a question it is hard to legislate!For there stand so many fellows plucking at the public goose,That it's moving lofty mountains when you try to pull 'em loose!But it's good-bye, Mister Speaker! If we failed to do the best,Let's be glad at what we purposed and surrender all the rest!It is pretty safe to figure that the legislature manShall receive but scanty praises though he does the best he can,And with fellows on the left of him and fellows on the right,Full of sage advice and counsel, his is not a happy plight;But the record has been written and for us it stands for aye,So, it's good-bye, Mister Speaker! We are going home today!O, it's good-bye, Mister Speaker, and it's farewell this and that,And it's wish you well, my brother, with the work you labor at!And if we have missed our calling and we don't deserve applause,Nevermore we'll leave the furrow just to tinker at the laws;If we failed, 'twas worth the trying, whatsoe'er the people say,But it's good-bye, Mister Speaker! We are going home today!
O, it's good-bye, Mister Speaker, when the motion to adjournSays the stuff is off forever and forbids us to return!And there's much of tears and laughter, much rejoicing and regret,At the measures we enacted and the things we didn't get;But the sixty days are over! And this hope each heart imbuesThat the people are forgiving and our errors will excuse!
It was sixty days of labor with but little recompense;It was sixty days of struggle with the rivalries intense;It was sixty days of effort to enthrone the people's will,And to legislate the good things and the evil things to kill;And if we but scanty trophies for our battles can display,Still it's good-bye, Mister Speaker! We are going home today!
We have found there's something mighty in the large affairs of state,And we know beyond a question it is hard to legislate!For there stand so many fellows plucking at the public goose,That it's moving lofty mountains when you try to pull 'em loose!But it's good-bye, Mister Speaker! If we failed to do the best,Let's be glad at what we purposed and surrender all the rest!
It is pretty safe to figure that the legislature manShall receive but scanty praises though he does the best he can,And with fellows on the left of him and fellows on the right,Full of sage advice and counsel, his is not a happy plight;But the record has been written and for us it stands for aye,So, it's good-bye, Mister Speaker! We are going home today!
O, it's good-bye, Mister Speaker, and it's farewell this and that,And it's wish you well, my brother, with the work you labor at!And if we have missed our calling and we don't deserve applause,Nevermore we'll leave the furrow just to tinker at the laws;If we failed, 'twas worth the trying, whatsoe'er the people say,But it's good-bye, Mister Speaker! We are going home today!
A scarlet on the maples,A daisy down below,And perfumes of the gardensThat blossomed long ago!Love lifts the face of morning,And walks the twilight late,And one is there beside meAnd leans across the gate!Love sings her angel musicThrough all the laughing days,And we, the lovers, loiterAdown the rosy ways.O, scarlet of the maples,O, daisies down below,And perfumes of the gardensThat blossomed long ago!
A scarlet on the maples,A daisy down below,And perfumes of the gardensThat blossomed long ago!
Love lifts the face of morning,And walks the twilight late,And one is there beside meAnd leans across the gate!
Love sings her angel musicThrough all the laughing days,And we, the lovers, loiterAdown the rosy ways.
O, scarlet of the maples,O, daisies down below,And perfumes of the gardensThat blossomed long ago!
"I see Jingles is becoming quite a poet. I presume he must have got a good deal for that last poem of his."
"Yes, I think he deserved six months for it, at least!"
Though the skies are gray and gloomyAnd the shadows hang about,Yet the world is bright and bloomyWhen the sunny side is out.There is still an angel chorusThat shall put the griefs to rout,And the sorrows flee before usWhen the sunny side is out.Then ring the bells of gloryAnd swing them with a shout!This life's a laughing storyWhen the sunny side is out!And fill the lips with laughter!Let ancient worries pout!With joys before and afterAnd the sunny side still out!
Though the skies are gray and gloomyAnd the shadows hang about,Yet the world is bright and bloomyWhen the sunny side is out.
There is still an angel chorusThat shall put the griefs to rout,And the sorrows flee before usWhen the sunny side is out.
Then ring the bells of gloryAnd swing them with a shout!This life's a laughing storyWhen the sunny side is out!
And fill the lips with laughter!Let ancient worries pout!With joys before and afterAnd the sunny side still out!
It's a mighty poor religion that isn't better than some of its devotees.
If God is in your debt, you can meet the Devil's sight drafts on demand.
The honest doubter will be welcomed to glory while the canting hypocrite is hustled into the patrol wagon for the infernal regions.
Yonder by the riverGrasses growing green,And the wild birds singingOver all the scene!Yonder by the riverViolets are blue,And the skies are droppingTender dreams of you!Yonder by the river,Where the ripples sing,In the tangled thicketBurns a crimson wing!Yonder by the river!We have waited long;Let us greet the sunshineWith a smile and song!
Yonder by the riverGrasses growing green,And the wild birds singingOver all the scene!
Yonder by the riverViolets are blue,And the skies are droppingTender dreams of you!
Yonder by the river,Where the ripples sing,In the tangled thicketBurns a crimson wing!
Yonder by the river!We have waited long;Let us greet the sunshineWith a smile and song!
Who can measure the dynamic force of one small life, or even of its smallest act? Verily, he that plants faith and hope in one brave heart and summons it with trumpet call to the lofty labors of the rolling years, has borrowed creative energies from the treasuries of God and throned eternal might to rule again among the skies!
Day-time and night-time,Bright and black weather,Life-song and love-songBlended together!Sorrow's an exileAt Joy's high endeavor;Tears for a moment,Then laughter forever!
Day-time and night-time,Bright and black weather,Life-song and love-songBlended together!Sorrow's an exileAt Joy's high endeavor;Tears for a moment,Then laughter forever!
A bowl of hot soup is sometimes more christian than a cup of cold water.
Even a bald-headed man can be a prophet. There was Elijah, for instance, whom the bears revenged.
Patience is sometimes imposed upon. Job not only had great suffering, but his friends lectured him about his sins.
Spring is the creative season of the world. Then all the creatures of earth and air, of sky and sea, find their well-loved mates, and though the individuals pass away, the pair grows all immortal in the children of their love.
When the birds come back! When the birds come back!There's a call of rolling music for the lonely hearts that lack,And across the hills and valleys that have silent been so longThere's a lilt of love and laughter and a rhapsody of song;And the cares that brought the sorrows and the shadows bleak and blackHide away their gloomy faces, when the birds come back!When the birds come back! There's a sky of sweeter blue,With the breezes blowing softer and the blossoms peeping through;There's a daisy in the meadows and a green upon the treesWith a welcome for the songsters and their swelling melodies;And the pleasures trip the measures and their happiness unpackOver all the waking wood-lands, when the birds come back!When the birds come back! Ah, the wonders of the springAnd the blossoms that are longing for the choruses they sing!And the roses that are sleeping through the darkness of the nightTill the love-song calls and summons to the lover and the light!Then we sail the seas of laughter, though the tempests lower black,As the blossoms greet the morning, when the birds come back!When the birds come back! Ah, the days of heaven whenAll the songs shall sing forever down the perfect ways of men,And the lilies and the roses in the fields of death and doomShall engarland all the path-ways with the bright of bud and bloom!What if long the wait and watching? What if sky and sun are black?Songs and blossoms come to meet us, when thebirds come back!When the birds come back! When the birds come back!O, the raptures and the rhapsodies that follow in their track!How the memories of by-gones and the joys of other daysSmile again with angel faces down the world's entangled ways!And the pleasures come and crown us with the garlands that we lack,When the sunshine floods the valleys and the birds come back!
When the birds come back! When the birds come back!There's a call of rolling music for the lonely hearts that lack,And across the hills and valleys that have silent been so longThere's a lilt of love and laughter and a rhapsody of song;And the cares that brought the sorrows and the shadows bleak and blackHide away their gloomy faces, when the birds come back!
When the birds come back! There's a sky of sweeter blue,With the breezes blowing softer and the blossoms peeping through;There's a daisy in the meadows and a green upon the treesWith a welcome for the songsters and their swelling melodies;And the pleasures trip the measures and their happiness unpackOver all the waking wood-lands, when the birds come back!
When the birds come back! Ah, the wonders of the springAnd the blossoms that are longing for the choruses they sing!And the roses that are sleeping through the darkness of the nightTill the love-song calls and summons to the lover and the light!Then we sail the seas of laughter, though the tempests lower black,As the blossoms greet the morning, when the birds come back!
When the birds come back! Ah, the days of heaven whenAll the songs shall sing forever down the perfect ways of men,And the lilies and the roses in the fields of death and doomShall engarland all the path-ways with the bright of bud and bloom!What if long the wait and watching? What if sky and sun are black?Songs and blossoms come to meet us, when thebirds come back!
When the birds come back! When the birds come back!O, the raptures and the rhapsodies that follow in their track!How the memories of by-gones and the joys of other daysSmile again with angel faces down the world's entangled ways!And the pleasures come and crown us with the garlands that we lack,When the sunshine floods the valleys and the birds come back!