| Is it worth while that we jostle a brother. |
| Bearing his load on the rough road of life? |
| Is it worth while that we jeer at each other |
| In blackness of heart that we war to the knife? |
| God pity us all in our pitiful strife. |
| |
| God pity as all as we jostle each other; |
| God pardon us all for the triumph we feel |
| When a fellow goes down 'neath his load on the heather, |
| Pierced to the heart: Words are keener than steel, |
| And mightier far for woe than for weal, |
| |
| Were it not well, in this brief little journey |
| On over the isthmus, down into the tide, |
| We give him a fish instead of a serpent, |
| Ere folding the hands to be and abide |
| Forever and aye in dust at his side? |
| |
| Look at the roses saluting each other; |
| Look at the herds all at peace on the plain; |
| Man, and man only, makes war on his brother, |
| And laughs in his heart at his peril and pain, |
| Shamed by the beasts that go down on the plain. |
| |
| Is it worth while that we battle to humble |
| Some poor fellow down into the dust? |
| God pity us all! Time too soon will tumble |
| All of us together, like leaves in a gust, |
| Humbled, indeed, down into the dust. |
| |
| Joaquin Miller. |
| There are loyal hearts, there are spirits brave, |
| There are souls that are pure and true; |
| Then give to the world the best you have, |
| And the best will come back to you. |
| |
| Give love, and love to your life will flow, |
| A strength in your utmost need; |
| Have faith, and a score of hearts will show |
| Their faith in your work and deed. |
| |
| Give truth, and your gift will be paid in kind; |
| And honor will honor meet, |
| And the smile which is sweet will surely find |
| A smile that is just as sweet. |
| |
| Give pity and sorrow to those who mourn; |
| You will gather in flowers again |
| The scattered seeds from your thought outborne, |
| Though the sowing seemed in vain. |
| |
| For life is the mirror of king and slave; |
| 'Tis just what we are and do; |
| Then give to the world the best you have, |
| And the best will come back to you. |
| |
| Madeline S. Bridges. |
| A boy drove into the city, his wagon loaded down |
| With food to feed the people of the British-governed town; |
| And the little black-eyed rebel, so cunning and so sly, |
| Was watching for his coming from the corner of her eye. |
| |
| His face was broad and honest, his hands were brown and tough, |
| The clothes he wore upon him were homespun, coarse, and rough; |
| But one there was who watched him, who long time lingered nigh, |
| And cast at him sweet glances from the corner of her eye. |
| |
| He drove up to the market, he waited in the line— |
| His apples and potatoes were fresh and fair and fine. |
| But long and long he waited, and no one came to buy, |
| Save the black-eyed rebel, watching from the corner of her eye. |
| |
| "Now, who will buy my apples?" he shouted, long and loud; |
| And, "Who wants my potatoes?" he repeated to the crowd. |
| But from all the people round him came no word of reply, |
| Save the black-eyed rebel, answering from the corner of her eye. |
| |
| For she knew that 'neath the lining of the coat he wore that day |
| Were long letters from the husbands and the fathers far away, |
| Who were fighting for the freedom that they meant to gain, or die; |
| And a tear like silver glistened in the corner of her eye. |
| |
| But the treasures—how to get them? crept the question through her mind, |
| Since keen enemies were watching for what prizes they might find; |
| And she paused a while and pondered, with a pretty little sigh, |
| Then resolve crept through her features, and a shrewdness fired her eye. |
| |
| So she resolutely walked up to the wagon old and red— |
| "May I have a dozen apples for a kiss?" she sweetly said; |
| And the brown face flushed to scarlet, for the boy was somewhat shy, |
| And he saw her laughing at him from the corner of her eye. |
| |
| "You may have them all for nothing, and more, if you want," quoth he. |
| "I will have them, my good fellow, but can pay for them," said she. |
| And she clambered on the wagon, minding not who all were by, |
| With a laugh of reckless romping in the corner of her eye. |
| |
| Clinging round his brawny neck, she clasped her fingers white and small, |
| And then whispered, "Quick! the letters! thrust them underneath my shawl! |
| Carry back again this package, and be sure that you are spry!" |
| And she sweetly smiled upon him from the corner of her eye. |
| |
| Loud the motley crowd was laughing at the strange, ungirlish freak; |
| And the boy was scared and panting, and so dashed he could not speak. |
| And "Miss, I have good apples," a bolder lad did cry; |
| But she answered, "No, I thank you," from the corner of her eye. |
| |
| With the news from loved ones absent to the dear friends they would greet, |
| Searching them who hungered for them, swift she glided through the street. |
| "There is nothing worth the doing that it does not pay to try," |
| Thought the little black-eyed rebel with a twinkle in her eye. |
| |
| Will Carleton. |
| If you sit down at set of sun |
| And count the deeds that you have done, |
| And, counting, find |
| One self-denying act, one word that eased the heart of him that heard; |
| One glance most kind, which felt like sunshine where it went, |
| Then you may count that day well spent. |
| |
| But if through, all the livelong day |
| You've eased no heart by yea or nay, |
| If through it all you've nothing done that you can trace |
| That brought the sunshine to one face, |
| No act most small that helped some soul and nothing cost, |
| Then count that day as worse than lost. |