Part 18 (1/2)

I left him in his battle, left him there to end his play, For he'd taught to me a lesson that is needed much to-day; Not the lure of cake could turn him from the work he had to do; There was nothing so important as to see his struggle through.

And I wondered all that evening, as he slumbered in his bed If we'd risen to the meaning of the work that lies ahead?

Are we roused to the importance of the danger in our way?

Are we thinking still of pleasures as we thought but yesterday?

Are our comforts and our riches in our minds still uppermost?

Must we wait, to see our danger, till the foe is on our coast?

Oh, there's nothing so important, nothing now that's worth a pin Save the war that we are fighting. It's a war we've got to win.

Selfishness

Search history, my boy, and see What petty selfishness has done.

Find if you can one victory That little minds have ever won.

There is no record there to read Of men who fought for self alone, No instance of a single deed splendor they may proudly own.

Through all life's story you will find The miser--with his h.o.a.rded gold-- A hermit, dreary and unkind, An outcast from the human fold.

Men hold him up to view with scorn, A creature by his wealth enslaved, A spirit craven and forlorn, Doomed by the money he has saved.

No man was ever truly great Who sought to serve himself alone, Who put himself above the state, Above the friends about him thrown.

No man was ever truly glad Who risked his joy on h.o.a.rded pelf, And gave of nothing that he had Through fear of needing it himself.

For selfishness is wintry cold, And bitter are its joys at last, The very charms it tries to hold, With woes are quickly overcast.

And only he shall gladly live, And bravely die when G.o.d shall call, Who gathers but that he may give, And with his fellows shares his all.

Constant Beauty

It's good to have the trees again, the singing of the breeze again, It's good to see the lilacs bloom as lovely as of old.

It's good that we can feel again, the touch of beauties real again, For hearts and minds, of sorrow now, have all that they can hold.

The roses haven't changed a bit, nor have the peonies stranged a bit, They bud and bloom the way they did before the war began.

The world is upside down to-day, there's much to make us frown to-day And gloom and sadness everywhere beset the path of man.