Part 5 (2/2)

The dead friends live and always will; Their presence hovers round us still.

It seems to me they come to share Each joy or sorrow that we bear.

Among the living I can feel The sweet departed spirits steal, And whether it be weal or woe, I walk with those I used to know.

I can recall them to my side Whenever I am struggle-tried; I've but to wish for them, and they Come trooping gayly down the way, And I can tell to them my grief And from their presence find relief.

In sacred memories below Still live the friends of long ago.

Laughter

Laughter sort o' settles breakfast better than digestive pills; Found it, somehow in my travels, cure for every sort of ills; When the hired help have riled me with their slipshod, careless ways, An' I'm bilin' mad an' cussin' an' my temper's all ablaze, If the calf gets me to laughin' while they're teachin' him to feed Pretty soon I'm feelin' better, 'cause I've found the cure I need.

Like to start the day with laughter; when I've had a peaceful night, An' can greet the sun all smilin', that day's goin' to be all right.

But there's nothing goes to suit me, when my system's full of bile; Even horses quit their pullin' when the driver doesn't smile, But they'll buckle to the traces when they hear a glad giddap, Just as though they like to labor for a cheerful kind o' chap.

Laughter keeps me strong an' healthy. You can bet I'm all run down, Fit for doctor folks an' nurses when I cannot shake my frown.

Found in farmin' laughter's useful, good for sheep an' cows an' goats; When I've laughed my way through summer, reap the biggest crop of oats.

Laughter's good for any business, leastwise so it seems to me Never knew a smilin' feller but was busy as could be.

Sometimes sit an' think about it, ponderin' on the ways of life, Wonderin' why mortals gladly face the toil an care an' strife, Then I come to this conclusion--take it now for what it's worth It's the joy of laughter keeps us plodding on this stretch of earth.

Men the fun o' life are seeking--that's the reason for the calf Spillin' mash upon his keeper--men are hungry for a laugh.

The Scoffer

If I had lived in Franklin's time I'm most afraid that I, Beholding him out in the rain, a kite about to fly, And noticing upon its tail the barn door's rusty key, Would, with the scoffers on the street, have chortled in my glee; And with a sneer upon my lips I would have said of Ben, ”His belfry must be full of bats. He's raving, boys, again!”

I'm glad I didn't live on earth when Fulton had his dream, And told his neighbors marvelous tales of what he'd do with steam, For I'm not sure I'd not have been a member of the throng That couldn't see how paddle-wheels could shove a boat along.

At ”Fulton's Folly” I'd have sneered, as thousands did back then, And called the Clermont's architect the craziest of men.

Yet Franklin gave us wonders great and Fulton did the same, And many ”b.o.o.bs” have left behind an everlasting fame.

And dead are all their scoffers now and all their sneers forgot And scarce a nickel's worth of good was brought here by the lot.

I shudder when I stop to think, had I been living then, I might have been a scoffer, too, and jeered at Bob and Ben.

I am afraid to-day to sneer at any fellow's dream.

Time was I thought men couldn't fly or sail beneath the stream.

I never call a man a b.o.o.b who toils throughout the night On visions that I cannot see, because he may be right.

I always think of Franklin's trick, which brought the jeers of men.

And to myself I say, ”Who knows but here's another Ben?”

<script>