A man must want from day to day,
Must want to reach a distant goal
Or claim some treasure far away,
For want's the builder of the soul.
He who has ceased to want has dropped
The working tools of life and stands
Much like an old-time clock that's stopped
While Time is mouldering his hands.
I'm truly sorry for the man,
Though he be millionaire or king,
Who does not hold some cherished plan
And says he does not want a thing.
Want is the spur that drives us on
And oft its praises should be sung,
For man is old when want is gone—
It's what we want that keeps us young.
Abe Lincoln
Bill and Jim drove into town on a pleasant summer day,
Puffed their pipes and talked of things in a friendly sort of way,
Talked of crops and politics, neighbors and the price of nails,
Then, as they were jogging on, passed a fellow splitting rails.
"Who's that yonder, Bill?" says Jim, "I don't seem to know his face."
"That's Abe Lincoln," answered Bill—"got a shabby sort of place."
Lawsuit going on one day, Bill and Jim had time to spare,
Dropped into the court awhile, found most all their neighbors there.
"Moonlight night," one witness said—prisoner's chances mighty small,
Till his lawyer rose and proved there wasn't any moon at all.
"Who's defending him?" says Jim, "rather clever, I should say."
"That's Abe Lincoln," answered Bill, "homely as a bale of hay."
Politics was getting hot, meetings almost every night,
Orators from north and south talking loudly for the right.
Bill and Jim were always there cheering for their party's cause,
Then one time a chap got up talking morals more than laws.
"Who's that speaking now?" says Jim, "think I've seen his face before."
"That's Abe Lincoln," answered Bill, "shall we go or hear some more?"
Moral of it isn't much, greatness may be round about,
But when seen from day to day men are slow to find it out.
Those who saw him splitting rails, those who heard him plead a case
Passed him by with little thought, laughing at his homely face.
Those who neighbored with the boy, those who saw his summer tan,
Those who lived in Lincoln's time never really knew the man.