bbs; in the next flood thou must
Learn, by forgetting.

For the lost chances be ye not distressed
To endless weeping;
Be not the thrush that o'er the empty nest
Is vigil keeping.

But in new efforts our regrets to-day
To stillness whiling,
Let us in some pure purpose find the way
To future smiling.

_James W. Foley._

From "The Voices of Song."

KEEP A-GOIN'!

Some men fail and quit. Some succeed and quit. The wise refuse to quit,
whether they fail or succeed.

Ef you strike a thorn or rose,
Keep a-goin'!
Ef it hails, or ef it snows,
Keep a-goin!
'Taint no use to sit an' whine,
When the fish ain't on yer line;
Bait yer hook an' keep a-tryin'--
Keep a-goin'!

When the weather kills yer crop,
Keep a-goin'!
When you tumble from the top,
Keep a-goin'!
S'pose you're out of every dime,
Bein' so ain't any _crime;_
Tell the world you're feelin' _prime_--
Keep a-goin'!

When it looks like all is up,
Keep a-goin'!
Drain the sweetness from the cup,
Keep a-goin'!
See the wild birds on the wing,
Hear the bells that sweetly ring,
When you feel like sighin' _sing--_
Keep a-goin'!

_Frank L. Stanton._

From "The Atlanta Constitution."

WHEN EARTH'S LAST PICTURE IS PAINTED

What is it that a human being wants? Most of us have something that we
like to do more than anything else. We are not free to do it as we wish.
We are handicapped by the need to earn a living, by physical weariness,
by the carpings and scoffs of the envious, by the limited time we have
at our disposal. But underneath all this is _the spirit of work_--the
desire to take up our task for its own sake alone, to give our whole
selves to it, to carry it through, not in some partial way, but in
accordance with the fulness of our dream. We want to be free from
distractions and interruptions; if we are driven at all, we want it to
be by our own inner promptings, not by obligation or necessity. Of
course these favorable, these ideal conditions belong to heaven, not to
earth. Kipling here explains what they will mean to the artist, the
painter; but in doing so he expresses the longings of the true workman
of whatsoever sort--he sums up the true spirit of work.

When Earth's last picture is painted and the tubes are twisted and dried,
When the oldest colors have faded, and the youngest critic has died,
We shall rest, and,