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AH, WASTE NO PITY
Ah, waste no time in pity, nor regret,
That I am blind and can no longer see
The deepening blue of summer skies; nor fret,
That flowers flaunt their hues no more for me.
And shed no tears that I shall never know,
Again the beauty of a greening field Or tree; or watch a campfire’s cameo Of night-things all in silhouette revealed.
But pray, instead, that I will always keep The beauty of these things within my mind;
And let no wint’ry blast of rancor creep Into my heart with blighting thoughts unkind.
Oh, pray that I may keep them ever green . . .
And learn to sing of beauty — though unseen!
— Hazel Granger Madill, Hermosa, S. D.
A NEW START
I will start anew this morning with a higher, fairer creed; I will cease to stand complaining of my ruthless neighbor’s greed;
I will cease to sit repining while my duty’s call is clear; I will waste no moment whining, and my heart shall know no fear.
I will look sometimes about me for the things that merit praise;
I will search for hidden beauties that elude the grumbler’s
gaze.
I will try to find contentment in the paths that I must tread;
I will cease to have resentment when another moves ahead.
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I will not he swayed by envy when my rival’s strength is shown;
I will not deny his merit, but I’ll strive to prove my own;
I will try to see the beauty spread before me, rain, or shine;
I will cease to preach your duty, and be more concerned with mine. (Author Unknown)
GOSSIPTOWN
Have you ever heard of Gossiptown On the shore of Falsehood Bay,
Where Old Dame Humor with rustling gown Is going the livelong day?
It isn’t far to Gossiptown
For people who want to go,
The Idleness train will take you down In just an hour or so.
The thoughtless road is crowded, you’ll find,
For most folks start that way;
But it’s all down hill and, if you don’t mind,
You’ll land in Falsehood Bay.
You glide through the valley of Wicked Talk,
And into the tunnel of Hate;
Then, crossing the Bitterness Bridge,
You walk right into the city gate.
The principal street is called “They Say,”
And “I’ve Heard” is the public well,
And the breezes that blow from Falsehood Bay Are laden with “Don’t You Tell!”
In the midst of the town is Telltale Park—
You’re never quite safe when there;
For its owner is Madame Suspicious Bemark,
Who lives in the street “Don’t Care.”
(Anonymous)