ODE TO DUTY

In the first stanza the poet hails duty as coming from God. It is a light to guide us and a rod to check. To obey it does not lead to victory; to obey it is victory-is to live by a high, noble law. In the second stanza he admits that some people do right without driving themselves to it-do it by instinct and "the genial sense of youth." In stanza 3 he looks forward to a time when all people will be thus blessed, but he thinks that as yet it is unsafe for most of us to lose touch completely with stern, commanding duty. In stanzas 4 and 5 he states that he himself has been too impatient of control, has wearied himself by changing from one desire to another, and now wishes to regulate his life by some great abiding principle. In stanza 6 he declares that duty, though stern, is benignant; the flowers bloom in obedience to it, and the stars keep their places. In the final stanza he dedicates his life to its service.

TERN Daughter of the Voice of God!

STERN

O Duty! if that name thou love
Who art a light to guide, a rod
To check the erring, and reprove;
Thou who art victory and law

When empty terrors overawe;

From vain temptations dost set free,
And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity!

There are who ask not if thine eye
Be on them; who, in love and truth
Where no misgiving is, rely
Upon the genial sense of youth:
Glad hearts! without reproach or blot,
Who do thy work, and know it not:
Oh! if through confidence misplaced

They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power! around them

cast.

Serene will be our days and bright

And happy will our nature be

When love is an unerring light,

And joy its own security.

And they a blissful course may hold
Ev'n now, who, not unwisely bold,

Live in the spirit of this creed;

Yet seek thy firm support, according to their need.

I, loving freedom, and untried,
No sport of every random gust,
Yet being to myself a guide,

Too blindly have reposed my trust:
And oft, when in my heart was heard
Thy timely mandate, I deferr'd

The task, in smoother walks to stray;
But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may.

Through no disturbance of my soul
Or strong compunction in me wrought,
I supplicate for thy control,

But in the quietness of thought:

Me this uncharter'd freedom tires;

I feel the weight of chance-desires:

My hopes no more must change their name;

I long for a repose that ever is the same.

Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear
The Godhead's most benignant grace,
Nor know we anything so fair
As is the smile upon thy face;

Flowers laugh before thee on their beds,
And fragrance in thy footing treads;

Thou dost preserve the Stars from wrong;

And the most ancient Heavens, through Thee, are fresh

and strong.

To humbler functions, awful Power!
I call thee: I myself commend
Unto thy guidance from this hour;
Oh let my weakness have an end!
Give unto me, made lowly wise,
The spirit of self-sacrifice;
The confidence of reason give;

And in the light of truth thy Bondman let me live.

William Wordsworth

THE SYNDICATED SMILE

A ready and sincere friendliness is the one thing we can show to every human being, whether we know him or not. The world is full of perplexed and lonely people whom even a smile or a kind look will help. Yet that which is so easy to give we too often reserve for a few, and those perhaps the least appreciative.

I

KNEW a girl who had a beau

And his name wasn't Adams-
No child of hers would ever call
The present writer "daddums."
I didn't love the girl, but still
I found her most beguiling;
And so did all the other chaps-
She did it with her smiling.
"I'm not a one-man girl," she said-
"Of smiles my beau first took his;
But some are left; I'll syndicate
And pass them round like cookies."

That syndicated smile!

When trouble seemed the most in style,
It heartened us-

That indicated,

Syndicated

Smile.

It's not enough to please your boss
Or fawn round folks with bankrolls;
Be just as friendly to the guys

Whose homespun round their shank rolls.
The best investment in the world

Is goodwill, twenty carat;

It costs you nothing, brings returns;
So get yours out and air it.

A niggard of good nature cheats
Himself and wrongs his fellows.

You'd serve mankind? Then be less close
With friendly nods and helloes.

The syndicated smile!

If you have kept it all the while,
You've vindicated

The great beneficent forces of life are not exhausted when once used, but are recurrent. The sun rises afresh each new day. Once a year the springtime returns and "God renews His ancient rapture." So it is with our joys. They do not stay by us constantly; they pass from us and are gone; but we need not trouble ourselves-they are sure to come back.

HED no tear! O shed no tear!

The flower will bloom another year.
Weep no more! O weep no more!
Young buds sleep in the root's white core.
Dry your eyes! O dry your eyes,
For I was taught in Paradise

To ease my breast of melodies—
Shed no tear.

Overhead! look overhead,

'Mong the blossoms white and red-
Look up, look up-I flutter now
On this flush pomegranate bough.
See me! 'tis this silvery bill
Ever cures the good man's ill.
Shed no tear! O shed no tear!

The flowers will bloom another year.
Adieu, adieu-I fly, adieu,

I vanish in the heaven's blue

Adieu, adieu!

John Keats,

PRAISE THE GENEROUS GODS FOR GIVING

Some of us find joy in toil, some in art, some in the open air and the sunshine. All of us find it in simply being alive. Life is the gift no creature in his right mind would part with. As Milton asks,

"For who would lose,

Though full of pain, this intellectual being,
These thoughts that wander through eternity,
To perish rather, swallowed up and lost
In the wide womb of uncreated night,
Devoid of sense and motion?"

PRAI

RAISE the generous gods for giving
In a world of wrath and strife,
With a little time for living,
Unto all the joy of life.

At whatever source we drink it,
Art or love or faith or wine,
In whatever terms we think it,
It is common and divine.

Praise the high gods, for in giving
This to man, and this alone,
They have made his chance of living
Shine the equal of their own.

William Ernest Henley.

COWARDS

We might as well accept the inevitable as the inevitable. There is no escaping death or taxes.

OWARDS die many times before their deaths:

Co

The valiant never taste of death but once.

Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,

It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,

Will come, when it will come.

William Shakespeare.