must have its burden,
Every heart its load.
Why sit down in gloom and darkness,
With your grief to sup?
As you drink Fate's bitter tonic
Smile across the cup.

Smile upon the troubled pilgrims
Whom you pass and meet;
Frowns are thorns, and smiles are blossoms
Oft for weary feet.
Do not make the way seem harder
By a sullen face,
Smile a little, smile a little,
Brighten up the place.

Smile upon your undone labor;
Not for one who grieves
O'er his task, waits wealth or glory;
He who smiles achieves.
Though you meet with loss and sorrow
In the passing years,
Smile a little, smile a little,
Even through your tears.

_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._

From "Poems of Power."

[Illustration: ELLA WHEELER WILCOX]

SIT DOWN, SAD SOUL

"A watched pot never boils." Though the pot be the pot of happiness, the
proverb still holds true.

Sit down, sad soul, and count
The moments flying:
Come,--tell the sweet amount
That's lost by sighing!
How many smiles--a score?
Then laugh, and count no more;
For day is dying.

Lie down, sad soul, and sleep,
And no more measure
The flight of Time, nor weep
The loss of leisure;
But here, by this lone stream,
Lie down with us and dream
Of starry treasure.

We dream: do thou the same:
We love--forever;
We laugh; yet few we shame,
The gentle, never.
Stay, then, till Sorrow dies;
_Then_--hope and happy skies
Are thine forever!

_Bryan Waller Procter._

SONG OF ENDEAVOR

Don Quixote discovered that there are no eggs in last year's
bird's-nests. Many of us waste our time in regrets for the past, without
seeming to perceive that hope lies only in endeavor for the future.

'Tis not by wishing that we gain the prize,
Nor yet by ruing,
But from our falling, learning how to rise,
And tireless doing.

The idols broken, nor our tears and sighs,
May yet restore them.
Regret is only for fools; the wise
Look but before them.

Nor ever yet Success was wooed with tears;
To notes of gladness
Alone the fickle goddess turns her ears,
She hears not sadness.

The heart thrives not in the dull rain and mist
Of gloomy pining.
The sweetest flowers are the flowers sun-kissed,
Where glad light's shining.

Look not behind thee; there is only dust
And vain regretting.
The lost tide e