Tradition wears a snowy beard, romance is always young.
Peace hath higher tests of manhood, than battle ever knew.
Before me even as behind God is and all is well.
For all sad words of tongue and pen, The saddest are these, 'It might have been'.
All the windows of my heart I open to the day.
The tints of autumn...a mighty flower garden blossoming under the spell of the enchanter, frost.
"Shoot if you must this old gray head But spare your country's flag " she said.
When faith is lost, when honor dies, the man is dead.
For of all sad words of tongue or pen The saddest are these: "It might have been!"
The windows of my soul I throw Wide open to the sun.
Who fathoms the Eternal Thought? Who talks of scheme and plan? The Lord is God! He needeth not The poor device of man.
Beauty seen is never lost, God's colors all are fast.
For of all sad words of tongues or pen the saddest are these: It might have been.
No longer forward nor behind I look in hope or fear But grateful take the good I find The best of now and here.
The craven's fear is but selfishness like his merriment.
Reason's voice and God's Nature's and Duty's never are at odds.
Give fools their gold, and knaves their power let fortune's bubbles rise and fall who sows a field, or trains a flower, or plants a tree, is more than all.
Every chain that spirits wear crumbles in the breadth of prayer.
Our toil is sweet with thankfulness Our burden is our boon The curse of earth's gray morning is The blessing of its noon.
"I'm sorry that I spell'd the word I hate to go above you Because" - the brown eyes lower fell - "Because you see I love you!"