We have erred in that dark hour
      We have known,
  When our tears fell with the shower,
      All alone!—­
  Were not shine and shower blent
  As the gracious Master meant?—­
  Let us temper our content
      With His own.

  For, we know, not every morrow
      Can be sad;
  So, forgetting all the sorrow
      We have had,
  Let us fold away our fears,
  And put by our foolish tears,
  And through all the coming years
      Just be glad.

James Whitcomb Riley.

From the Biographical Edition Of the
Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley.

OPPORTUNITY

“I lack only one of having a hundred,” said a student after an examination; “I have the two naughts.”  And all he did lack was a one, rightly placed.  The world is full of opportunities.  Discernment to perceive, courage to undertake, patience to carry through, will change the whole aspect of the universe for us and bring positive achievement out of meaningless negation.

  With doubt and dismay you are smitten
    You think there’s no chance for you, son? 
  Why, the best books haven’t been written
    The best race hasn’t been run,
  The best score hasn’t been made yet,
    The best song hasn’t been sung,
  The best tune hasn’t been played yet,
    Cheer up, for the world is young!

  No chance?  Why the world is just eager
    For things that you ought to create
  Its store of true wealth is still meagre
    Its needs are incessant and great,
  It yearns for more power and beauty
    More laughter and love and romance,
  More loyalty, labor and duty,
    No chance—­why there’s nothing but chance!

  For the best verse hasn’t been rhymed yet,
    The best house hasn’t been planned,
  The highest peak hasn’t been climbed yet,
    The mightiest rivers aren’t spanned,
  Don’t worry and fret, faint hearted,
    The chances have just begun,
  For the Best jobs haven’t been started,
    The Best work hasn’t been done.

Berton Braley.

From “A Banjo at Armageddon.”

SOLITUDE

Said an Irishman who had several times been kicked downstairs:  “I begin to think they don’t want me around here.”  So it is with our sorrows, our struggles.  Life decrees that they belong to us individually.  If we try to make others share them, we are shunned.  But struggling and weary humanity is glad enough to share our joys.

  Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
  Weep, and you weep alone;
    For the sad old earth
    Must borrow its mirth,
  It has trouble enough of its own.

  Sing, and the hills will answer;
  Sigh, it is lost on the air;
    The echoes bound
    To a joyful sound,
  But shrink from voicing care.