You Can't Forget, The
Three Me's, The
To a Little Girl
To an Old Friend
Too Big a Price
Trouble Brings Friends
True Man, The

Vanished Joy, A

"Wait Till Your Pa Comes Home"
We're Dreamers All
What Home's Intended For
What I Call Living
What Is Success?
What Makes an Artist
What We Need
When Day Is Done
When Friends Drop In
When Ma Wants Something New
When Mother's Sewing Buttons On
When Sorrow Comes
When The Minister Calls
When We Play the Fool
When We're All Alike
When We Understand the Plan
Where Children Play
"Where's Mamma?"
Wide Outdoors, The
Willing Horse, The
With Dog and Gun
World and Bud, The

When Day Is Done

When day is done and the night slips down,
And I've turned my back on the busy town,
And come once more to the welcome gate
Where the roses nod and the children wait,
I tell myself as I see them smile
That life is good and its tasks worth while.

When day is done and I've come once more
To my quiet street and the friendly door,
Where the Mother reigns and the children play
And the kettle sings in the old-time way,
I throw my coat on a near-by chair
And say farewell to my pack of care.

When day is done, all the hurt and strife
And the selfishness and the greed of life,
Are left behind in the busy town;
I've ceased to worry about renown
Or gold or fame, and I'm just a dad,
Content to be with his girl and lad.

Whatever the day has brought of care,
Here love and laughter are mine to share,
Here I can claim what the rich desire--
Rest and peace by a ruddy fire,
The welcome words which the loved ones speak
And the soft caress of a baby's cheek.

When day is done and I reach my gate,
I come to a realm where there is no hate,
For here, whatever my worth may be,
Are those who cling to their faith in me;
And with love on guard at my humble door,
I have all that the world has struggled for.

The Simple Things

I would not be too wise--so very wise
That I must sneer at simple songs and creeds,
And let the glare of wisdom blind my eyes
To humble people and their humble needs.

I would not care to climb so high that I
Could never hear the children at their play,
Could only see the people passing by,
And never hear the cheering words they say.

I would not know too much--too much to smile
At trivial errors of the heart and hand,
Nor be too proud to play the friend the while,
Nor cease to help and know and understand.

I would not care to s