Chapter 13
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.
_Griffith Alexander,_
From "The Philadelphia Evening Public Ledger."
HOE YOUR ROW
We must not dream of harvests and neglect the toil that produces them.
De fiel's 'll soon be hummin' Roun' de country high en low; De harves' is a-comin': Hoe yo' row! Hoe yo' row!
No time now fer de sleeper; It's "Git up now, en go!" It's de sower makes de reaper; Hoe yo' row! Hoe yo' row!
It's sweet de birds is singin' De songs you lovin' so; But de harves' bells is ringin'; Hoe yo' row! Hoe yo' row!
_Frank L. Stanton._
From "The Atlanta Constitution."
BORROWING TROUBLE
It is bad enough to cry over spilt milk. But many of us do worse; we cry over milk that we think is going to be spilt. In line 1 sic=such; 2, a'=all; 3, nae=no; 4, enow=enough; 5, hae=have; sturt=fret, trouble.
But human bodies are sic fools, For a' their colleges an' schools, That when nae real ills perplex them, They mak enow themsels to vex them; An' ay the less they hae to sturt them, In like proportion less will hurt them.
_Robert Burns_
UNDISMAYED
A convict explained to a visitor why he had been sent to the penitentiary. "They can't put you in here for that!" the visitor exclaimed. "They did," replied the convict. So smiling seems a futile thing. Apparently it cannot get us anywhere--but it does.
He came up smilin'--used to say He made his fortune that-a-way; He had hard luck a-plenty, too, But settled down an' fought her through; An' every time he got a jolt He jist took on a tighter holt, Slipped back some when he tried to climb But came up smilin' every time.
He came up smilin'--used to git His share o' knocks, but he had grit, An' if they hurt he didn't set Around th' grocery store an' fret. He jist grabbed Fortune by th' hair An' hung on till he got his share. He had th' grit in him to stay An' come up smilin' every day.
He jist gripped hard an' all alone Like a set bull-pup with a bone, An' if he got shook loose, why then He got up an' grabbed holt again. He didn't have no time, he'd say, To bother about yesterday, An' when there was a prize to win He came up smilin' an' pitched in.
He came up smilin'--good fer him! He had th' grit an' pluck an' vim, So he's on Easy Street, an' durned If I don't think his luck is earned! No matter if he lost sometimes, He's got th' stuff in him that climbs, An' when his chance was mighty slim, He came up smilin'--good fer him!
_James W. Foley._
From "Tales of the Trail."
A HERO
If defeat strengthens and sweetens character, it is not defeat at all, but victory.
He sang of joy; whate'er he knew of sadness He kept for his own heart's peculiar share: So well he sang, the world imagined gladness To be sole tenant there.
For dreams were his, and in the dawn's fair shining, His spirit soared beyond the mounting lark; But from his lips no accent of repining Fell when the days grew dark;
And though contending long dread Fate to master, He failed at last her enmity to cheat, He turned with such a smile to face disaster That he sublimed defeat.
_Florence Earle Coates._
From "Poems."
WILL
"I can resist anything but temptation," says a character in one of Oscar Wilde's plays. Too many of us have exactly this strength of will. We perhaps do not fall into gross crime, but because of our flabby resolution our lives become purposeless, negative, negligible. No one would miss us in particular if we were out of the way.
I
O well for him whose will is strong! He suffers, but he will not suffer long; He suffers, but he cannot suffer wrong. For him nor moves the loud world's random mock; Nor all Calamity's hugest waves confound, Who seems a promontory of rock, That, compass'd round with turbulent sound, In middle ocean meets the surging shock, Tempest-buffeted, citadel-crown'd.
II
But ill for him who, bettering not with time, Corrupts the strength of heaven-descended Will, And ever weaker grows thro' acted crime, Or seeming-genial venial fault, Recurring and suggesting still! He seems as one whose footsteps halt, Toiling in immeasurable sand, And o'er a weary sultry land, Far beneath a blazing vault, Sown in a wrinkle of the monstrous hill The city sparkles like a grain of salt.
_Alfred Tennyson._
FABLE
To be impressed by a thing merely because it is big is a human failing. Yet our standard of judgment would be truer if we considered, instead, the success of that thing in performing its own particular task. And quality is better than quantity. The lioness in the old fable was being taunted because she bore only one offspring at a time, not a numerous litter. "It is true," she admitted; "but that one is a lion."
The mountain and the squirrel Had a quarrel, And the former called the latter "Little Prig"; Bun replied, "You are doubtless very big; But all sorts of things and weather Must be taken in together, To make up a year And a sphere. And I think it no disgrace To occupy my place. If I'm not so large as you, You are not so small as I, And not half so spry. I'll not deny you make A very pretty squirrel track; Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; If I cannot carry forests on my back, Neither can you crack a nut."
_Ralph Waldo Emerson._
DUTY
When Duty comes a-knocking at your gate, Welcome him in, for if you bid him wait, He will depart only to come once more And bring seven other duties to your door.
_Edwin Markham._
From "The Gates of Paradise, and Other Poems."
PRAYER FOR PAIN
"The thief steals from himself. The swindler swindles himself," says Emerson. Apparent gain may be actual loss; material escape may be spiritual imprisonment. Any one may idle; but the men who are not content unless they climb the unscalable mountains or cross the uncharted seas or bear the burdens that others shrink from, are the ones who keep the heritage of the spirit undiminished.
I do not pray for peace nor ease, Nor truce from sorrow: No suppliant on servile knees Begs here against to-morrow!
Lean flame against lean flame we flash, O, Fates that meet me fair; Blue steel against blue steel we clash-- Lay on, and I shall dare!
But Thou of deeps the awful Deep, Thou Breather in the clay, Grant this my only prayer--Oh keep My soul from turning gray!
For until now, whatever wrought Against my sweet desires, My days were smitten harps strung taut, My nights were slumbrous lyres.
And howsoe'er the hard blow rang Upon my battered shield, Some lark-like, soaring spirit sang Above my battlefield.
And through my soul of stormy night The zigzag blue flame ran. I asked no odds--I fought my fight-- Events against a man.
But now--at last--the gray mist chokes And numbs me. _Leave me pain! Oh let me feel the biting strokes That I may fight again!_
_John G. Neihardt._
From "The Quest" (collected lyrics).
STEADFAST
No one ever has a trouble so great that some other person has not a greater. The thought of the heroism shown by those more grievously afflicted than we, helps us to bear our own ills patiently.
If I can help another bear an ill By bearing mine with somewhat of good grace-- Can take Fate's thrusts with not too long a face And help him through his trials, then I WILL! For do not braver men than I decline To bow to troubles graver, far, than mine?
Pain twists this body? Yes, but it shall not Distort my soul, by all the gods that be! And when it's done its worst, Pain's victory Shall be an empty one! Whate'er my lot, My banner, ragged, but nailed to the mast, Shall fly triumphant to the very last!
Others so much worse off than I have fought; Have smiled--have met defeat with unbent head They shame me into following where they led. Can I ignore the lesson they have taught? Strike hands with me! Dark is the way we go, But souls-courageous line it--that I know!
_Everard Jack Appleton._
From "The Quiet Courage."
IF
If I were fire I'd burn the world away. If I were wind I'd turn my storms thereon, If I were water I'd soon let it drown.
_Cecco Angolieri._
If I were fire I'd seek the frozen North And warm it till it blossomed fairly forth And in the sweetness of its smiling mien Resembled some soft southern garden scene. And when the winter came again I'd seek The chilling homes of lowly ones and meek And do my small but most efficient part To bring a wealth of comfort to the heart.
If I were wind I'd turn my breath upon The calm-bound mariner until, anon, The eager craft on which he sailed should find The harbor blest towards which it hath inclined. And in the city streets, when summer's days Were withering the souls with scorching rays, I'd seek the fevered brow and aching eyes And take to them a touch of Paradise.
If I were water it would be my whim To seek out all earth's desert places grim, And turn each arid acre to a fair Lush home of flowers and oasis rare. Resolved in dew, I'd nestle in the rose. As summer rain I'd ease the harvest woes, And where a tear to pain would be relief, A tear I'd be to kill the sting of grief.
If I were gold, I'd seek the poor man's purse. I'd try to win my way into the verse Of some grand singer of Man's Brotherhood, And prove myself so pure, so fraught with good. That all the world would bless me for the cup Of happiness I'd brought for all to sup. And when at last my work of joy was o'er I'd be content to die, and be no more!
_John Kendrick Bangs._
From "Songs of Cheer."
THE GIFTS OF GOD
Why are we never entirely satisfied? Why are we never at absolute peace or rest? Many are the answers that have been made to this question. The answer here given by the poet is that so richly is man endowed with qualities and attributes that if contentment were added to them, he would be satisfied with what he has, and would not strive for that which is higher still--the fulfilment of his spiritual cravings.
When God at first made Man, Having a glass of blessings standing by; Let us (said He) pour on him all we can: Let the world's riches, which disperséd lie, Contract into a span.
So strength first made a way; Then beauty flow'd, then wisdom, honor, pleasure When almost all was out, God made a stay, Perceiving that alone, of all His treasure, Rest in the bottom lay.
For if I should (said He) Bestow this jewel also on My creature, He would adore My gifts instead of Me, And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature. So both should losers be.
Yet let him keep the rest, But keep them with repining restlessness: Let him be rich and weary, that at least, If goodness lead him not, yet weariness May toss him to My breast.
_George Herbert._
A PHILOSOPHER
"The web of our life is of mingled yarn, good and ill together," says Shakespeare. It behooves us therefore to find the good and to make the best of the ill. Two men were falling from an aeroplane. "I'll bet you five dollars," said one, "that I hit the ground first."
To take things as they be-- Thet's my philosophy. No use to holler, mope, or cuss-- If they was changed they might be wuss.
If rain is pourin' down, An' lightnin' buzzin' roun', I ain't a-fearin' we'll be hit, But grin thet I ain't out in it.
If I got deep in debt-- It hasn't happened yet-- And owed a man two dollars, Gee! Why I'd be glad it wasn't three.
If some one come along, And tried to do me wrong, Why I should sort of take a whim To thank the Lord I wasn't him.
I never seen a night So dark there wasn't light Somewheres about if I took care To strike a match and find out where.
_John Kendrick Bangs._
From "Songs of Cheer."
THE LIFE WITHOUT PASSION
A person may feel deeply without shouting his emotion to the skies, or be strong without seizing occasions to exhibit his strength. In truth we distrust the power which makes too much a display of itself. Let it exert itself only to the point of securing the ends that are really necessary. Restraint, self-control are in truth more mighty than might unshackled, just as a self-possessed opponent is more dangerous than a frenzied one. Moreover, there is a moral side to the question. A good quality, if abused or allowed free sway, becomes a force for evil and does its owner more harm than if he had not possessed it in the first place.
They that have power to hurt, and will do none, That do not do the thing they most do show, Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow,--
They rightly do inherit heaven's graces, And husband nature's riches from expense; They are the lords and owners of their faces, Others, but stewards of their excellence.
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, Though to itself it only live and die; But if that flower with base infection meet, The basest weed outbraves his dignity:
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
_William Shakespeare._
CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE
"I'd rather be right than President," said Henry Clay. It is to men who are animated by this spirit that the greatest satisfaction in life comes. For true blessedness does not lie far off and above us. It is close at hand. Booker T. Washington once told a story of a ship that had exhausted its supply of fresh water and signaled its need to a passing vessel. The reply was, "Send down your buckets where you are." Thinking there was some misunderstanding, the captain repeated his signal, only to be answered as before. This time he did as he was bidden and secured an abundance of fresh water. His ship was opposite the mouth of a mighty river which still kept its current unmingled with the waters of the ocean.
How happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will; Whose armor is his honest thought And simple truth his utmost skill!
Whose passions not his masters are, Whose soul is still prepared for death, Not tied unto the world with care Of public fame or private breath;
Who envies none that chance doth raise Or vice; who never understood How deepest wounds are given by praise Nor rules of state, but rules of good;
Who hath his life from rumors freed, Whose conscience is his strong retreat; Whose state can neither flatterers feed, Nor ruin make accusers great;
Who God doth late and early pray More of his grace than gifts to lend; And entertains the harmless day With a well-chosen book or friend;
--This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise or fear to fall; Lord of himself, though not of lands; And having nothing, yet hath all.
_Sir Henry Wotton._
ESSENTIALS
The things here named are essential to a happy and successful life. They may not be the only essentials.
Roll up your sleeves, lad, and begin; Disarm misfortune with a grin; Let discontent not wag your chin-- Let gratitude.
Don't try to find things all askew; Don't be afraid of what is new; Nor banish as unsound, untrue, A platitude.
If folks don't act as you would choose Remember life is varied; use Your common sense; don't get the blues; Show latitude.
Sing though in quavering sharps and flats, Love though the folk you love are cats, Work though you're worn and weary--that's The attitude.
_St. Clair Adams._
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.
_Edwin Markham._
From "The Gates of Paradise, and Other Poems."
GOOD DEEDS
The influence of good deeds usually extends far beyond the limits we can see or trace; but as well not have the power to do them as not use it.
How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world. Heaven doth with us as we with torches do; Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike As if we had them not.
_William Shakespeare._
YOU MAY COUNT THAT DAY
A class of little settlement girls besought Mrs. George Herbert Palmer, one insufferable summer morning, to tell them how to be happy. "I'll give you three rules," she said, "and you must keep them every day for a week. First, commit something good to memory each day. Three or four words will do, just a pretty bit of poem, or a Bible verse. Do you understand?" A girl jumped up. "I know; you want us to learn something we'd be glad to remember if we went blind." Mrs. Palmer was relieved; these children understood. She gave the three rules--memorize something good each day, see something beautiful each day, do something helpful each day. When the children reported at the end of the week, not a single day had any of them lost. But hard put to it to obey her? Indeed they had been. One girl, kept for twenty-four hours within squalid home-walls by a rain, had nevertheless seen two beautiful things--a sparrow taking a bath in the gutter, and a gleam of sunlight on a baby's hair.
If you sit down at set of sun And count the acts that you have done, And, counting, find One self-denying deed, one word That eased the heart of him who heard-- One glance most kind, That fell like sunshine where it went-- Then you may count that day well spent.
But if, through all the livelong day, You've cheered no heart, by yea or nay-- If, through it all You've nothing done that you can trace That brought the sunshine to one face-- No act most small That helped some soul and nothing cost-- Then count that day as worse than lost.
_George Eliot_.
SADNESS AND MERRIMENT
(ADAPTED FROM "THE MERCHANT OF VENICE")
In this passage Antonio states that he is overcome by a sadness he cannot account for. Salarino tells him that the mental attitude is everything; that mirth is as easy as gloom; that nature in her freakishness makes some men laugh at trifles until their eyes become mere slits, yet leaves others dour and unsmiling before jests that would convulse even the venerable Nestor. Gratiano maintains that Antonio is too absorbed in worldly affairs, and that he must not let his spirits grow sluggish or irritable.
_ANT._ In sooth, I know not why I am so sad: It wearies me; you say it wearies you; But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, I am to learn.
_Salar_. Then let's say you are sad Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy For you to laugh and leap, and say you are merry, Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus, Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time: Some that will evermore peep through their eyes And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper, And other of such vinegar aspect That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.
_Gra_. You look not well, Signior Antonio; You have too much respect upon the world: They lose it that do buy it with much care: Believe me, you are marvelously changed.
_Ant_. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano A stage where every man must play a part, And mine a sad one.
_Gra_. Let me play the fool: With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come, And let my liver rather heat with wine Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man whose blood is warm within Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? Sleep when he wakes, and creep into a jaundice By being peevish? Fare ye well awhile: I'll end my exhortation after dinner.
_William Shakespeare._
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.
_William Judson Kibby,_
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.
_Strickland W. Gillilan._
MORALITY