A Heap O' Livin Part 16

No house will she consent to view Unless it has a sun room, too.

There must be wash bowls here and there To save much climbing of the stair; A sleeping porch we both demand-- This fad has swept throughout the land-- And, Oh, 'twill give her heart a wrench Not to possess a few doors, French.

I want to dig and walk around At least full fifty feet of ground; She wants the latest style in tubs; I want more room for trees and shrubs, And a garage, with light and heat, That can be entered from the street.

The trouble is the things we seek Cannot be bought for ten-a-week.

And all the joys for which we sigh Are just too rich for us to buy.

We have the taste to cut a dash: The thing we're lacking most is cash.

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AN EASY WORLD

It's an easy world to live in if you choose to make it so; You never need to suffer, save the griefs that all must know; If you'll stay upon the level and will do the best you can You will never lack the friends.h.i.+p of a kindly fellow man.

Life's an easy road to travel if you'll only walk it straight; When the clouds begin to gather and your hopes begin to fade, If you've only toiled in honor you won't have to call for aid.

But if you've bartered friends.h.i.+p and the faith on which it rests For a temporary winning; if you've cheated in the tests, If with promises you've broken, you have chilled the hearts of men; It is vain to look for friends.h.i.+p for it will not come again.

Oh, the world is full of kindness, thronged with men who want to be Of some service to their neighbors and they'll run to you or me When we're needing their a.s.sistance if we've lived upon the square, But they'll spurn us in our trouble if we've always been unfair.

It's an easy world to live in; all you really need to do Is the decent thing and proper and then friends will flock to you; But let dishonor trail you and some stormy day you'll find To your heart's supremest sorrow that you've made the world unkind.

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THE STATES

There is no star within the flag That's brighter than its brothers, And when of Michigan I brag, I'm boasting of the others.

Just which is which no man can say-- One star for every state Gleams brightly on our flag to-day, And every one is great.

The stars that gem the skies at night May differ in degree, And some are pale and some are bright, But in our flag we see A sky of blue wherein the stars Are equal in design; Each has the radiance of Mars And all are yours and mine.

The glory that is Michigan's Is Colorado's too; The same sky Minnesota spans, The same sun warms it through; And all are one beneath the flag, A common hope is ours; Our country is the mountain crag, The valley and its flowers.

The land we love lies far away As well as close at hand; He has no vision who would say: _This_ state's my native land.

Though sweet the charms he knows the best, Deep down within his heart The farthest east, the farthest west Of him must be a part.

There is no star within the flag That's brighter than its brothers; So when of Michigan I brag I'm boasting of the others.

We share alike one purpose true; One common end awaits; We must in all we dream or do Remain _United_ States.

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THE OBLIGATION OF FRIENDs.h.i.+P

You ought to be fine for the sake of the folks Who think you are fine.

If others have faith in you doubly you're bound To stick to the line.

It's not only on you that dishonor descends: You can't hurt yourself without hurting your friends.

You ought to be true for the sake of the folks Who believe you are true.

You never should stoop to a deed that your friends Think you wouldn't do.

If you're false to yourself, be the blemish but small, You have injured your friends; you've been false to them all.

For friends.h.i.+p, my boy, is a bond between men That is founded on truth: It believes in the best of the ones that it loves, Whether old man or youth; And the stern rule it lays down for me and for you Is to be what our friends think we are, through and through.

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UNDER THE SKIN OF MEN

Did you ever sit down and talk with men In a serious sort of a way, On their views of life and ponder then On all that they have to say?

If not, you should in some quiet hour; It's a glorious thing to do: For you'll find that back of the pomp and power Most men have a goal in view.

They'll tell you then that their aim is not The clink of the yellow gold; That not in the worldly things they've got Would they have their stories told.

They'll say the joys that they treasure most Are their good friends, tried and true, And an honest name for their own to boast And peace when the day is through.

I've talked with men and I think I know What's under the toughened skin.

I've seen their eyes grow bright and glow With the fire that burns within.

And back of the gold and back of the fame And back of the selfish strife, In most men's b.r.e.a.s.t.s you'll find the flame Of the n.o.bler things of life.

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THE FINER THOUGHT

How fine it is at night to say: "I have not wronged a soul to-day.

I have not by a word or deed, In any breast sowed anger's seed, Or caused a fellow being pain; Nor is there on my crest a stain That shame has left. In honor's way, With head erect, I've lived this day."

When night slips down and day departs And rest returns to weary hearts, How fine it is to close the book Of records for the day, and look Once more along the traveled mile And find that all has been worth while; To say: "In honor I have toiled; My plume is spotless and unsoiled."

Yet cold and stern a man may be Retaining his integrity; And he may pa.s.s from day to day A spirit dead, in living clay, Observing strictly morals, laws, Yet serving but a selfish cause; So it is not enough to say: "I have not stooped to shame to-day!"

It is a finer, n.o.bler thought When day is done and night has brought The contemplative hours and sweet, And rest to weary hearts and feet, If man can stand in truth and say: "I have been useful here to-day.

Back there is one I chanced to see With hope newborn because of me.

"This day in honor I have toiled; My s.h.i.+ning crest is still unsoiled; But on the mile I leave behind Is one who says that I was kind; And someone hums a cheerful song Because I chanced to come along."

Sweet rest at night that man shall own Who has not lived his day alone.

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STUCK

I'm up against it day by day, My ignorance is distressing; The things I don't know on the way I'm busily confessing.

Time was I used to think I knew Some useful bits of knowledge And could be sure of one or two Real facts I'd gleaned in college.

But I'm unfitted for the task Of answering things my boy can ask.

Now, who can answer queries queer That four-year-olds can think up?

And tell in simple phrase and clear Why fishes do not drink up The water in the streams and lakes, Or where the wind is going, And tell exactly how G.o.d makes The roses that are growing?

I'm sure I cannot satisfy Each little when, and how, and why.

Had I the wisdom of a sage Possessed of all the learning That can be gleaned from printed page From bookworm's closest turning, That eager knowledge-seeking lad That questions me so gayly Could still go round and boast he had With queries floored me daily.

He'll stick, I'll bet, in less than five Brief minutes any man alive.