A man must win contentment for his soul, Must battle for it bravely day by day; The peace he seeks is not a near-by goal; To claim it he must tread a rugged way. The shirker never knows a tranquil breast; Peace but rewards the man who does his best. {110} NO PLACE TO GO The happiest nights I ever know Are those when I've No place to go, And the missus says When the day is through: "To-night we haven't A thing to do." Oh, the joy of it, And the peace untold Of sitting 'round In my slippers old, With my pipe and book In my easy chair, Knowing I needn't Go anywhere. Needn't hurry My evening meal Nor force the smiles That I do not feel, But can grab a book From a near-by shelf, And drop all sham And be myself. Oh, the charm of it And the comfort rare; Nothing on earth With it can compare; And I'm sorry for him Who doesn't know The joy of having No place to go. {111} DEFEAT No one is beat till he quits, No one is through till he stops, No matter how hard Failure hits, No matter how often he drops, A fellow's not down till he lies In the dust and refuses to rise. Fate can slam him and bang him around, And batter his frame till he's sore, But she never can say that he's downed While he bobs up serenely for more. A fellow's not dead till he dies, Nor beat till no longer he tries. {112} A PATRIOTIC WISH I'd like to be the sort of man the flag could boast about; I'd like to be the sort of man it cannot live without; I'd like to be the type of man That really is American: The head-erect and shoulders-square, Clean-minded fellow, just and fair, That all men picture when they see The glorious banner of the free. I'd like to be the sort of man the flag now typifies, The kind of man we really want the flag to symbolize; The loyal brother to a trust, The big, unselfish soul and just, The friend of every man oppressed, The strong support of all that's best, The sturdy chap the banner's meant, Where'er it flies, to represent. I'd like to be the sort of man the flag's supposed to mean, The man that all in fancy see wherever it is seen, The chap that's ready for a fight Whenever there's a wrong to right, The friend in every time of need, The doer of the daring deed, The clean and generous handed man That is a real American. {113} THE PRICE OF JOY You don't begrudge the labor when the roses start to bloom; You don't recall the dreary days that won you their perfume; You don't recall a single care You spent upon the garden there; And all the toil Of tilling soil Is quite forgot the day the first Pink rosebuds into beauty burst.