O soul of man, most burden laden,
Know thou that fortune stands, a coyish maiden
Who hides beneath her frowns that wished-for smile
She waits to shower on you just all the while,—
Push onward; you will win at last!
SING IT
If you’ve a good song to be sung,—
A song of laughter or of rollicking cheer
To rouse to smiles this world so dark and drear,
A song that takes the grief from sorrow’s bitter cup