MY
CREED
To
live as gently as I can;
To
be, no matter where, a man;
To
take what comes of good or ill
And
cling to faith and honor still;
To
do my best, and let that stand
The
record of my brain and hand;
And
then, should failure come to me,
Still
work and hope for victory.
To
have no secret place wherein
I
stoop unseen to shame or sin;
To
be the same when I'm alone
As
when my every deed is known;
To
live undaunted, unafraid
Of
any step that I have made;
To
be without pretense or sham
Exactly
what men think I am.
To
leave some simple mark behind
To
keep my having lived in mind;
If
enmity to aught I show,
To
be an honest, generous foe,
To
play my little part, nor whine
That
greater honors are not mine.
This,
I believe, is all I need
For
my philosophy and creed
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WHAT
A BABY COSTS
"How
much do babies cost?" said he
The
other night upon my knee;
And
then I said: "They cost a lot;
A
lot of watching by a cot,
A
lot of sleepless hours and care,
A
lot of heart-ache and despair,
A
lot of fear and trying dread,
And
sometimes many tears are shed
In
payment for our babies small,
But
every one is worth it all.
"For
babies people have to pay
A
heavy price from day to day --
There
is no way to get one cheap.
Why,
sometimes when they're fast asleep
You
have to get up in the night
And
go and see that they're all right.
But
what they cost in constant care
And
worry, does not half compare
With
what they bring of joy and bliss --
You'd
pay much more for just a kiss.
"Who
buys a baby has to pay
A
portion of the bill each day;
He
has to give his time and thought
Unto
the little one he's bought.
He
has to stand a lot of pain
Inside
his heart and not complain;
And
pay with lonely days and sad
For
all the happy hours he's had.
His
smile is worth it all, you bet."
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TRUE
NOBILITY
Who
does his task from day to day
And
meets whatever comes his way,
Believing
God has willed it so,
Has
found real greatness here below.
Who
guards his post, no matter where,
Believing
God must need him there,
Although
but lowly toil it be,
Has
risen to nobility.
For
great and low there's but one test:
'Tis
that each man shall do his best.
Who
works with all the strength he can
Shall
never die in debt to man.
MOTHER
Never
a sigh for the cares that she bore for me
Never a thought of the joys that flew by;
Her
one regret that she couldn't do more for me,
Thoughtless and selfish, her Master was I.
Oh,
the long nights that she came at my call tome!
Oh, the soft touch of her hands on my brow!
Oh,
the long years that she gave up her all to me!
Oh, how I yearn for her gentleness now!
Slave
to her baby! Yes, that was the way of her,
Counting her greatest of services small;
Words
cannot tell what this old heart would
say of her,
Mother -- the sweetest and fairest of all.
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LIFE
Life
is a gift to be used every day,
Not
to be smothered and hidden away;
It
isn't a thing to be stored in the chest
Where
you gather your keepsakes and treasure
your best;
It
isn't a joy to be sipped now and then
And
promptly put back in a dark place again.
Life
is a gift that the humblest may boast of
And
one that the humblest may well make the
most
of.
Get
out and live it each hour of the day,
Wear
it and use it as much as you may;
Don't
keep it in niches and corners and grooves,
You'll
find that in service its beauty improves
PEACE
A
man must earn his hour of peace,
Must pay for it with hours of strife and care,
Must
win by toil the evening's sweet release,
The rest that may be portioned for his share;
The
idler never knows it, never can.
Peace is the glory ever of a man.
A
man must win contentment for his soul,
Must battle for it bravely day by day;
The
peace he seeks is not a near-by goal;
To claim it he must tread a rugged way.
The
shirker never knows a tranquil breast;
Peace but rewards the man who does his best.
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FATHER
Used
to wonder just why father
Never had much time for play,
Used
to wonder why he'd rather
Work each minute of the day.
Used
to wonder why he never
Loafed along the road an' shirked;
Can't
recall a time whenever
Father played while others worked.
Father
didn't dress in fashion,
Sort of hated clothing new;
Style
with him was not a passion;
He had other things in view.
Boys
are blind to much that's going
On about 'em day by day,
And
I had no way of knowing
What became of father's pay.
All
I knew was when I needed
Shoes I got 'em on the spot;
Everything
for which I pleaded,
Somehow, father always got.
Wondered,
season after season,
Why he never took a rest,
And
that ĞIğ might be the reason
Then I never even guessed.
Father
set a store on knowledge;
If he'd lived to have his way
He'd
have sent me off to college
And the bills been glad to pay.
That,
I know, was his ambition:
Now and then he used to say
He'd
have done his earthly mission
On my graduation day.
Saw
his cheeks were getting paler,
Didn't understand just why;
Saw
his body growing frailer,
Then at last I saw him die.
Rest
had come! His tasks were ended,
Calm was written on his brow;
Father's
life was big and splendid,
And I understand it now.
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THE
PERFECT DINNER TABLE
A
table cloth that's slightly soiled
Where
greasy little hands have toiled;
The
napkins kept in silver rings,
And
only ordinary things
From
which to eat, a simple fare,
And
just the wife and kiddies there,
And
while I serve, the clatter glad
Of
little girl and little lad
Who
have so very much to say
About
the happenings of the day.
Four
big round eyes that dance with glee,
Forever
flashing joys at me,
Two
little tongues that race and run
To
tell of troubles and of fun;
The
mother with a patient smile
Who
knows that she must wait awhile
Before
she'll get a chance to say
What
she's discovered through the day.
She
steps aside for girl and lad
Who
have so much to tell their dad.
Our
manners may not be the best;
Perhaps
our elbows often rest
Upon
the table, and at times
That
very worst of dinner crimes,
That
very shameful act and rude
Of
speaking ere you've downed your food,
Too
frequently, I fear, is done,
So
fast the little voices run.
Yet
why should table manners stay
Those
tongues that have so much to say?
At
many a table I have been
Where
wealth and luxury were seen,
And
I have dined in halls of pride
Where
all the guests were dignified;
But
when it comes to pleasure rare
The
perfect dinner table's where
No
stranger's face is ever known:
The
dinner hour we spend alone,
When
little girl and little lad
Run
riot telling things to dad
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ONLY
A DAD
Only
a dad with a tired face,
Coming
home from the daily race,
Bringing
little of gold or fame
To
show how well he has played the game;
But
glad in his heart that his own rejoice
To
see him come and to hear his voice.
Only
a dad with a brood of four,
One
of ten million men or more
Plodding
along in the daily strife,
Bearing
the whips and the scorns of life,
With
never a whimper of pain or hate,
For
the sake of those who at home await.
Only
a dad, neither rich nor proud,
Merely
one of the surging crowd,
Toiling,
striving from day to day,
Facing
whatever may come his way,
Silent
whenever the harsh condemn,
And
bearing it all for the love of them.
Only
a dad but he gives his all,
To
smooth the way for his children small,
Doing
with courage stern and grim
The
deeds that his father did for him.
This
is the line that for him I pen:
Only
a dad, but the best of men.
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GREATNESS
We
can be great by helping one another;
We can be loved for very simple deeds;
Who
has the grateful mention of a brother
Has really all the honor that he needs.
We
can be famous for our works of kindness --
Fame is not born alone of strength or skill;
It
sometimes comes from deafness and from blindness
To petty words and faults, and loving still.
We
can be rich in gentle smiles and sunny:
A jeweled soul exceeds a royal crown.
The
richest men sometimes have little money,
And Croesus oft's the poorest man in town.
DEFEAT
No
one is beat till he quits,
No one is through till he stops,
No
matter how hard Failure hits,
No matter how often he drops,
A
fellow's not down till he lies
In
the dust and refuses to rise.
Fate
can slam him and bang him around,
And batter his frame till he's sore,
But
she never can say that he's downed
While he bobs up serenely for more.
A
fellow's not dead till he dies,
Nor
beat till no longer he tries.
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