Now, hold your breath; oh, do not talk, for Baby has begun to walk! Travel all the world with me, no greater sight we'll ever see than Baby, fat legs wide apart, smiling, gurgling, bless his heart! Left foot, right foot—well, I never, isn't he extremely clever! Yes, of course, I liked the Rhine. The castles were extremely fine. Cologne Cathedral robs one quite of the power to speak or write. Hans Sachs' house and Dürer's, too, these were sights indeed to view. A Market Place with many treasures added much to Nurnberg's pleasures. But none of this thrilled me so much as just this little human touch—a quaint Dutch house, an open door, a mother sitting on the floor with hands outstretched and eyes aflame, whilst t'ward her, swaying, Baby came. Left foot, right foot—please don't talk, for Baby has begun to walk!
FAILURE
Ah, Failure is a curious thing! It helps to mend the broken wing and then inspires a longer flight and whispers, "Look, the goal's in sight!" And Failure is a stringent spur, pricking Ambition till it stir, a strong incentive to proud Pride o'er every obstacle to ride. Where'er we stumble, Failure stands and stretches forth strong, helpful hands, and bids us rise and try again, ignore the set-back and the pain. 'Tis Failure makes us scorn defeat and turn the bitter into sweet, and seek, yes, on the darkest day, for one bright scintillating ray. If Fate should bring a nasty shock, if Life should give the real hard knock, if everything should go awry—it's Failure urges us to try. 'Tis Failure says, "I won't give in. I have a second chance to win." Ah, Failure, you're a little word so to inspire the undeterred!
HIS 21ST BIRTHDAY
He looks the same, he feels the same, exactly as the day before. He hasn't changed his home or name, nor has he grown one hair's breadth more. The suit he wore but yesterday he's wearing at this minute, and who is there who'd dare to say the same boy isn't in it? And yet he's changed, we must confess, for since the clock struck twelve last night (we wish him health and happiness!) he has attained to manhood's height. And Life grips fast his eager hand and says, "The midnight bell has tolled and you're a man, this understand, for you are twenty-one years old." And here's our wish and here's our hope, Oh, bold adventurer and gay! May you have courage as you grope through unlit paths along life's way. There is so much for man to do; and brains may plot and brains may plan; but this our golden hope for you, may you have strength to play the man!
FELLOWSHIP
I love to walk on cool, ribbed sands with never a soul by my side; for then my spirit understands the murmur of the tide. But not for long does Neptune's voice engross my soul and mind. It wearies me; I would rejoice—to hear Mankind. I love to climb to some high peak and watch the stars at night. I hear the voice of Silence speak; it fills me with delight. Of this my soul soon weary grows, for always do I find the current of my being flows—towards Mankind. I'd love a house well tucked away among tall trees, wide-spreading trees; and there I'd write a song each day with no one near to talk or tease! I would not stay there very long; a crowded place I'd have to find. My heart would barren be of song—without Mankind.
IN A LITTLE ROOM
O silly, box-like, little room, I'm very tired of you to-day. Four silent walls enclosing gloom. I charge you, what have you to say? But stop a minute! I admit I like your carpet's soft design; and from this angle, as I sit, the sideboard has a gracious line. 'Tis strange I did not note till now the depth of blue on this old plate, the lovely curve of leafy bough, the lovers standing near a gate. I wonder, was I very young—perhaps I was not even born—when first this dinner bell was rung, and now its brass is thin and worn. A lovely thing—this antique bowl; its beauty urges me to sing. I think the craftsman's very soul was melted for its fashioning. O silly, little, box-like room! Your pardon, please, you humble me. You have no space for scowls and gloom, with so much charm for all to see.