When Day is Done Part 16

Just find the wise professor when He isn't lost in ancient lore, And he, like many other men, Romps with his children on the floor.

He puts his gravity aside To share in innocent delight.

Stripped of position's pomp and pride, We're nearly all the same at night.

Serving a common cause, we go Unto our separate tasks by day, And rich or poor or great or low, Regardless of their place or pay, Cherish the common dreams of men-- A home where love and peace unite.

We serve the self-same end and plan, We're all alike when it is night.

Each for his loved ones wants to do His utmost. Brothers are we all, When we have run the work-day through, In romping with our children small; Rich men and poor delight in play When care and caste have taken flight.

At home, in all we think and say, We're very much the same at night.

The Things You Can't Forget

They ain't much, seen from day to day-- The big elm tree across the way, The church spire, an' the meetin' place Lit up by many a friendly face.

You pa.s.s 'em by a dozen times An' never think o' them in rhymes, Or fit for poet's singin'. Yet They're all the things you can't forget; An' they're the things you'll miss some day If ever you should go away.

The people here ain't much to see-- Jes' common folks like you an' me, Doin' the ordinary tasks Which life of everybody asks: Old Dr. Green, still farin' 'round To where his patients can be found, An' Parson Hill, serene o' face, Carryin' G.o.d's message every place, An' Jim, who keeps the grocery store-- Yet they are folks you'd hunger for.

They seem so plain when close to view-- Bill Barker, an' his brother too, The Jacksons, men of higher rank Because they chance to run the bank, Yet friends to every one round here, Quiet an' kindly an' sincere, Not much to sing about or praise, Livin' their lives in modest ways-- Yet in your memory they'd stay If ever you should go away.

These are things an' these the men Some day you'll long to see again.

Now it's so near you scarcely see The beauty o' that big elm tree, But some day later on you will An' wonder if it's standin' still, An' if the birds return to sing An' make their nests there every spring.

Mebbe you scorn them now, but they Will bring you back again some day.

The Making of Friends

If n.o.body smiled and n.o.body cheered and n.o.body helped us along, If each every minute looked after himself and good things all went to the strong, If n.o.body cared just a little for you, and n.o.body thought about me, And we stood all alone to the battle of life, what a dreary old world it would be!

If there were no such a thing as a flag in the sky as a symbol of comrades.h.i.+p here, If we lived as the animals live in the woods, with nothing held sacred or dear, And selfishness ruled us from birth to the end, and never a neighbor had we, And never we gave to another in need, what a dreary old world it would be!

Oh, if we were rich as the richest on earth and strong as the strongest that lives, Yet never we knew the delight and the charm of the smile which the other man gives, If kindness were never a part of ourselves, though we owned all the land we could see, And friends.h.i.+p meant nothing at all to us here, what a dreary old world it would be!

Life is sweet just because of the friends we have made and the things which in common we share; We want to live on not because of ourselves, but because of the people who care; It's giving and doing for somebody else--on that all life's splendor depends, And the joy of this world, when you've summed it all up, is found in the making of friends.

The Deeds of Anger

I used to lose my temper an' git mad an' tear around An' raise my voice so wimmin folks would tremble at the sound; I'd do things I was ashamed of when the fit of rage had pa.s.sed, An' wish I hadn't done 'em, an' regret 'em to the last; But I've learned from sad experience how useless is regret, For the mean things done in anger are the things you can't forget.

'Tain't no use to kiss the youngster once your hand has made him cry; You'll recall the time you struck him till the very day you die; He'll forget it an' forgive you an' to-morrow seem the same, But you'll keep the hateful picture of your sorrow an' your shame, An' it's bound to rise to taunt you, though you long have squared the debt, For the things you've done in meanness are the things you can't forget.

Lord, I sometimes sit an' shudder when some scene comes back to me, Which shows me big an' brutal in some act o' tyranny, When some triflin' thing upset me an' I let my temper fly, An' was sorry for it after--but it's vain to sit an' sigh.

So I'd be a whole sight happier now my sun begins to set, If it wasn't for the meanness which I've done an' can't forget.

Now I think I've learned my lesson an' I'm treadin' gentler ways, An' I try to build my mornings into happy yesterdays; I don't let my temper spoil 'em in the way I used to do An' let some splash of anger smear the record when it's through; I want my memories pleasant, free from shame or vain regret, Without any deeds of anger which I never can forget.

I'd Rather Be a Failure

I'd rather be a failure than the man who's never tried; I'd rather seek the mountain-top than always stand aside.

Oh, let me hold some lofty dream and make my desperate fight, And though I fail I still shall know I tried to serve the right.

The idlers line the ways of life and they are quick to sneer; They note the failing strength of man and greet it with a jeer; But there is something deep inside which scoffers fail to view-- They never see the glorious deed the failure tried to do.

Some men there are who never leave the city's well-worn streets; They never know the dangers grim the bold adventurer meets; They never seek a better way nor serve a n.o.bler plan; They never risk with failure to advance the cause of man.

Oh, better 'tis to fail and fall in sorrow and despair, Than stand where all is safe and sure and never face a care; Yes, stamp me with the failure's brand and let men sneer at me, For though I've failed the Lord shall know the man I tried to be.

Couldn't Live Without You

You're just a little fellow with a lot of funny ways, Just three-foot-six of mischief set with eyes that fairly blaze; You're always up to something with those busy hands o' yours, And you leave a trail o' ruin on the walls an' on the doors, An' I wonder, as I watch you, an' your curious tricks I see, Whatever is the reason that you mean so much to me.

You're just a chubby rascal with a grin upon your face, Just seven years o' gladness, an' a hard and trying case; You think the world's your playground, an' in all you say an' do You fancy everybody ought to bow an' sc.r.a.pe to you; Dull care's a thing you laugh at just as though 'twill never be, So I wonder, little fellow, why you mean so much to me.

Now your face is smeared with candy or perhaps it's only dirt, An' it's really most alarming how you tear your little s.h.i.+rt; But I have to smile upon you, an' with all your wilful ways, I'm certain that I need you 'round about me all my days; Yes, I've got to have you with me, for somehow it's come to be That I couldn't live without you, for you're all the world to me.

Just a Boy

Get to understand the lad-- He's not eager to be bad; If the right he always knew, He would be as old as you.

Were he now exceeding wise, He'd be just about your size; When he does things that annoy, Don't forget, he's just a boy.

Could he know and understand, He would need no guiding hand; But he's young and hasn't learned How life's corners must be turned; Doesn't know from day to day There is more in life than play, More to face than selfish joy-- Don't forget he's just a boy.

Being just a boy, he'll do Much you will not want him to; He'll be careless of his ways, Have his disobedient days, Wilful, wild and headstrong, too, Just as, when a boy, were you; Things of value he'll destroy, But, reflect, he's just a boy.

Just a boy who needs a friend, Patient, kindly to the end, Needs a father who will show Him the things he wants to know; Take him with you when you walk, Listen when he wants to talk, His companions.h.i.+p enjoy, Don't forget, he's just a boy!