The saddest sort of death to die Would be to quit the game called l… And know, beneath the gentle sky, You’d lived a slacker in the strif… That nothing men on earth would fi…

There may be finer pleasures than… And better ways to spend a day; th… There may be richer fellowship tha… But if there is, I know it not; i… Oh, some may choose to walk with k…

I look into the faces of the peopl… The glad ones and the sad ones, an… And I wonder why the sorrow or th… But the pale and weary faces are t… I saw a face this morning, and tim…

Who shall sit at the table, then,… of peace are made– The wisest men of the troubled lan… silver and gold brocade? Yes, they shall gather in solemn s…

She is fair to see and sweet, Dainty from her head to feet, Modest, as her blushing shows, Happy, as her smiles disclose, And the young man at her side

God grant me kindly thought And patience through the day, And in the things I’ve wrought Let no man living say That hate’s grim mark has stained

SO YOU 'RE sobbin’ in the night… An’ your heart is ever callin’ for… An’ you’re lonely, oh, so lonely!… That will start the old light shin… I 'm not goin’ to try to tell you…

Time was I thought of growing up, But that was ere the babies came; I’d dream and plan to be a man And win my share of wealth and fam… For age held all the splendors the…

“When shall I be a man?” he said, As I was putting him to bed. “How many years will have to be Before Time makes a man of me? And will I be a man when I

I’LL never be rich. I’m too fond of the joy Of a certain small girl And a certain small boy; And the nights full of fun

Life is a gift to be used every da… Not to be smothered and hidden awa… It isn’t a thing to be stored in t… Where you gather your keepsakes an… It isn’t a joy to be sipped now an…

’Twas hard to think that he must g… We knew that we should miss him so… We thought that he must always sta… Beside us, laughing, day by day; That he must never know the care

‘You’re spoiling them!' the mother… When I give way to weepy eyes And let them do the things they wi… Like cleaning up the jelly dish, Or finishing the chocolate cake,

The patter of rain on the roof, The glint of the sun on the rose; Of life, these the warp and the wo… The weaving that everyone knows. Now grief with its consequent tear…