Stand Pat.
In the mighty game of life,
Stand pat!
Don't be moved by storm or strife,
Stand pat!
Keep within your heart a song,
And the days will not be long,
Till you conquer every wrong,—
Stand pat, stand pat!
Don't be bluffed by this or that,—
Stand pat!
Half the howls are chitter-chat,—
Stand pat!
When you hold the ruling hand
You are always in command,
And you'll surely beat the band.—
Stand pat, stand pat!
There's no need to draw or fill,
Stand pat!
Play your cards to make a kill,
Stand pat!
If there's one that wants to raise,
Back your last chip while he plays
Till the chump no longer stays,—
Stand pat, stand pat!
There's a stack of reds and blues,
Stand pat!
For the chap that knows their use,
Stand pat!
When the game is o'er and won
Are the stakes that urged us on,
God will cash our chips at dawn,—
Stand pat, stand pat!
The Valleys of Rest.
I.
What matters it, Dear, though the burdens be sore?
In the Valleys of Rest we shall weary no more,
And the music of mirth with its solace shall sing
All the songs of delight the beatitudes bring!
II.
Nevermore shall the days with the sorrows be sad
Where the love-roses bloom and the joy-mornings glad—
Where the violets dream through the east and the west
Of the beautiful lands in the Valleys of Rest!