Yet many passed him, day by day, He might have helped along the way. He fancied kindness something which Belongs entirely to the rich. And so he lived and toiled for gold, Unsympathetic, harsh and cold, Intending all the time to share The burdens that his brothers bear When he possessed great wealth, and he Could well afford a friend to be. His fortune came, but, oh, too late; The poor about him could not wait. They never guessed and never knew The things that he had meant to do. Few knew how much he'd planned to give If God had only let him live. And when at last his form was cold, All that he'd left on earth was gold. A kindly name is something which A man must earn before he's rich. Patriotism I think my country needs my vote, I know it doesn't need my throat, My lungs and larynx, too; And so I sit at home at night And teach my children what is right And wise for them to do; And when I'm on the job by day I do my best to earn my pay. Though arguments may rage and roar; I grease the hinges on my door And paint the porches blue; I love this splendid land of ours, And so I plant the seeds and flowers And watch them bursting through. I never stand upon a box To say we're headed for the rocks. My notion of a patriot Is one who guards his little cot, And keeps it up to date; Who pays his taxes when they're due, And pays his bills for groc'ries, too, And dresses well his mate; He keeps his children warmly clad And lets them know they have a dad. The nation's safe as long as men Get to their work and back again Each day with cheerful smile; So long as there are fathers who Rejoice in what they have to do And find their homes worth while, The Stars and Stripes will wave on high And liberty will never die. The Tramp Eagerly he took my dime, Then shuffled on his way, Thick with sin and filth and grime, But I wondered all that day How the man had gone astray. Not to him the dime I gave; Not unto the man of woe, Not to him who should be brave, Not to him who'd sunk so low, But the boy of long ago. Passed his years of sin and shame Through the filth that all could see, Out of what he is there came One more pitiful to me: Came the boy that used to be. Smiling, full of promise glad, Stood a baby, like my own; I beheld a glorious lad, Someone once had loved and known Out of which this wreck had grown! Where, thought I, must lie the blame? Who has failed in such a way? As all children come he came, There's a soul within his clay; Who has led his feet astray? As he shuffled down the hall With the coin I'd never miss, What, thought I, were fame and all Man may gain of earthly bliss, If my child should come to this! The Lonely Garden