ns that meet,
Till they lay all their trophies and gifts at his feet.
With a little of Love, Dear, and something of Song,
All the mighty exalt, all the feeble are strong,
And the breast bravely bares to the breast of the foe,
And, forever full armored, gives blow for his blow!
Then a little of Love, Dear, and something of Song!
What shall matter the struggle with error and wrong?
For the lilies and roses of gladness shall bloom
Till we sleep the long slumber as dust in the tomb!
Caught on the Fly.
It's no use to try to trot in a race where you are out-classed. Better be a good weed-puller at so much per pull, than a member of the legislature without any pull at all.
If a woman's hair is smoothed up, her hat on straight and her belt all right behind, the other cares and responsibilities of this life sink at once and forever into insignificant nothingness.
This thing of "hitching your wagon to a star" m
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