[SONG OF LOVELY THINGS]
[TO ONE WHO SIGHED]
[LOOK FORWARD]
[THE WORLD'S BEAUTY]
[TO FATHER TIME]
[MIRACLE OF SPRING]
[EASTER THOUGHTS]
[SENSE OF HUMOUR]
[TO A PETULANT HEART]
[NEIGHBOUR JANE]
[DIMINISHING EVILS]
[THE DEATHLESS RAY]
[LITTLE HEARTBREAK]
[THIS WAY PASSED HEROES]
[JUST AS EASY]
[TO AN ALMOND TREE]
[MICHAEL INSISTS]
[RAINY DAY]
[BEGONE, DULL CARE!]
[IN A ROCKING-CHAIR]
[AT A RAILWAY STATION]
[IN PRAISE OF A WHOLE WEEK]
[A PRAYER IN ADVERSITY]
[THE WATCHFUL TONGUE]
[PETITION]
[A LITTLE THOUGHTLESSNESS]
[MAKE ME NORMAL]
[LIFE, THE TEACHER]
[THE SINGING KETTLE]
[HARVESTING]
[A PAEAN TO WORK]
[THE PRAYER OF THE HOME]
[THE MILLINER]
[IN CONVALESCENCE]
[A QUEER PHYSICIAN]
[THE ENVIABLE GREENGROCER]
[MOVING IN]
[GOOD MONTH OF AUGUST]
[TO A BOY OF SEVENTEEN]
[FOR THOSE IN CITY LODGINGS]
[THE PERFECT GUEST]
[JUST GROWING-PAINS]
[A MAN]
[TO A CHILD BLOWING BUBBLES]
[THE ANTIQUE SHOP]
[TIME'S SACK]
[THE HUMDRUM WAY]
[GIFT OF GLOVES]
[DOGGIE—IN MEMORIAM]
[WHEN IN THE DUMPS]
["FETCH THE FITTER!"]
[BAGPIPES]
[WHEN I WAS EIGHT]
[MY FATHER]
[THE HEART'S WAY]
[LIFE IS TOO SHORT]
[POINT OF VIEW]
[LIFE'S A.B.C]
[NURSE]
[FOUR WALLS]
SONG OF LOVELY THINGS
How many lovely things there be! The ever-changing, restless sea; the gracious, friendly, shady tree; and children laughing in their glee. How many lovely things there are! The glowing, beaming, friendly star, the garden gate that stands ajar, the sound of Church bells from afar. How many lovely things I know! Stories of lovers long ago, and places where the lilies blow, and children's voices sweet and low. What lovely things have touched my heart—see how the waves caress and part, and watch pale Dawn from Night upstart and slip into her mystic mart. What lovely things my ears have heard: the thrilling song of happy bird, a horse by anxious lover spurred, a toddler's sweetly lisped first word. What lovely things my eyes have seen: snow-covered hills and fields of green, and silks of wondrous weave and sheen—and Baby's toothless smile serene!
TO ONE WHO SIGHED
You cannot sing? Well, others can. You do not dance? but others do. And ever since the world began there have been certain folk like you who cannot dance, and cannot sing, nor weave a play nor write a book. But you can sew? Most anything? And are quite expert as a cook? And you can draw a little bit, amuse your friends with pen and ink? You make folk laugh—this you admit. You have a lot of gifts, I think. Oh, foolish one, to sigh and fret because you're not as some folk are. Suppose a plant of mignonette withered because 'twas not a star! Be what you are, dear girl, with pride. Accept your limits with good grace; the world is varied, very wide; for each of us there is a place. Within your sphere be quite content, be proud of work that is your own, and to life's complex instrument with sweetness add your mite of tone.
LOOK FORWARD
What a mess I made of things! That was yesterday. Yesterday has taken wings—hide mistakes away. Things I did can't be undone. Silly then to sorrow. Better is the task begun on a bright new morrow. If I hadn't acted thus! Silence, puling heart. Useless now to fume and fuss, make a brand new start. All the energy that goes into senseless fretting would rebuild, if you so chose, your plan in some new setting. What a blow! Fate is unkind. Grit your teeth, don't murmur. Smile as if you didn't mind, stand a little firmer. Here is solace for your grief, nothing's done beyond recall. Smudged a page? Well, turn a leaf. Begin again. That's all. Failed to-day? To-day is past. To-morrow's peeping round the door. Never doubt you'll win at last. That is what to-morrow's for.
THE WORLD'S BEAUTY
Not in seclusion is true beauty seen, not in a fragrant, silent country lane, nor in a daisy field all white and green, nor in a golden meadow washed with rain. But in a smoky, noisy, busy street, whose only colours through shop-windows show; where there is constant march of human feet that bravely journey daily to and fro; where cripples play a gay and daring air; and blind folk stand and dream that it is light; where passers-by who haven't much to spare yet stop to give ungrudgingly their mite. And where small houses nestle close together, beneath whose roofs hard-working people live, who help each other in the stormy weather, who have so little yet can always give. O beauty of the world, you are seen best where the soul's banner floats courageously above the turmoil of the day's high-fevered quest—in ugly places beautified by Love!