I turn the pages o'er and o'er And see the pansies dark as wine, And think, as I have thought before, These are superior to mine; In my poor garden, never yet Has bloomed such lovely mignonette. Since pansies have the storms to face And men must battle day by day, They cannot wear the charm and grace Their printed catalogues display; Life is much sterner than it looks And scars are seldom shown in books. _Here on the Earth_ Here is where the blows are struck, Here is where the wrong is done, Here are toilers in the muck; Here beneath the shining sun, Pain and hurt and sin abide, Here is where our souls are tried. What's beyond I cannot say, Save my faith that all is well; There the wrongs are cast away, There in peace the angels dwell, But this life on earth and sea Holds so much that need not be. I would not remain afar Thinking only of my soul; Here where hungry children are, Here where hatred mars the scroll, Thought and time and strength I'd give Bettering this life we live. Not to-morrow, but to-day, I would serve another's need, I would smooth another's way, Bind the cruel wounds that bleed; Death will soothe the weary brow, But my hand would smooth it now. Life has need of kindly men, Just, courageous, true and brave, But that need is ended when Comes the sexton to the grave; Let me, then, my duty face, Making earth a happier place. Let me serve the living here, Not the dead across the bar, Let me carry hope and cheer Where the sad and hopeless are; Angels wait upon the dead-- Let me smooth the path men tread. _I Mustn't Forget_ I mustn't forget that I'm gettin' old-- That's the worst thing ever a man can do. I must keep in mind without bein' told That old ideas must give way to new. Let me be always upon my guard Never a crabby old man to be, Youth is too precious to have it marred By the cranky whims of a man like me. I must remember that customs change An' I've had my youth an' my hair is gray, Mustn't be too surprised at strange Or startlin' things that the youngsters say; Mustn't keep the bit in their mouths too tight, Which is something old people are apt to do. What used to be wrong may to-day be right An' it may not be wrong just becoz it's new. Want 'em to like me an' want 'em to know That I need their laughter an' mirth an' song, An' I want 'em near, 'coz I love 'em so, An' home is the place where their smiles belong. They're growin' up, an' it seems so queer To hear them talk of the views they hold, But age with youth shouldn't interfere An' I mustn't forget that I'm gettin' old. _Old-Fashioned Dinners_