Joseph Rodman Drake.

SERENITY

Calmness of mind to face anything the future may have in store is expressed in this quatrain.

  Here’s a sigh to those who love me
    And a smile to those who hate;
  And whatever sky’s above me,
    Here’s a heart for every fate.

Lord Byron.

HERE’S HOPIN’

An optimist has been described as a man who orders oysters at a restaurant and expects to find a pearl to pay the bill with.  This of course is not optimism, but brazen brainlessness.  Yet somehow the pearls come only to those who expect them.

  Year ain’t been the very best;—­
  Purty hard by trouble pressed;
  But the rough way leads to rest,—­
    Here’s hopin’!

  Maybe craps way short; the rills
  Couldn’t turn the silent mills;
  But the light’s behind the hills,—­
    Here’s hopin’!

  Where we planted roses sweet
  Thorns come up an’ pricked the feet;
  But this old world’s hard to beat,—­
    Here’s hopin’!

  P’r’aps the buildin’ that we planned
  ’Gainst the cyclone couldn’t stand;
  But, thank God we’ve got the land,—­
    Here’s hopin’!

  Maybe flowers we hoped to save
  Have been scattered on a grave;
  But the heart’s still beatin’ brave,—­
    Here’s hopin’!

  That we’ll see the mornin’ light—­
  That the very darkest night
  Can’t hide heaven from our sight,—­
    Here’s hopin’!

Frank L. Stanton.

From “The Atlanta Constitution.”

CLEON AND I

Toward the end of the yacht race in which the America won her historic cup the English monarch, who was one of the spectators, inquired:  “Which boat is first?” “The America seems to be first, your majesty,” replied an aide.  “And which is second?” asked the monarch.  “Your majesty, there seems to be no second.”  So it is in the race for happiness.  The man who is natural, who is open and kind of heart, is always first.  The man who is merely rich or sheltered or proud is not even a good second.

  Cleon hath a million acres, ne’er a one have I;
  Cleon dwelleth in a palace, in a cottage I;
  Cleon hath a dozen fortunes, not a penny I;
  Yet the poorer of the twain is Cleon, and not I.

  Cleon, true, possesses acres, but the landscape I;
  Half the charm to me it yieldeth money can not buy,
  Cleon harbors sloth and dullness, freshening vigor I;
  He in velvet, I in fustian, richer man am I.

  Cleon is a slave to grandeur, free as thought am I;
  Cleon fees a score of doctors, need of none have I;
  Wealth-surrounded, care-environed, Cleon fears to die;
  Death may come, he’ll find me ready, happier man am I.