f I had youth no thought of failure lurking
Beyond to-morrow's dawn should fright my soul.
Let failure strike--it still should find me working
With faith that I should some day reach my goal.
I'd dice with danger--aye!--and glory in it;
I'd make high stakes the purpose of my throw.
I'd risk for much, and should I fail to win it,
I would not even whimper at the blow.

[Illustration: _"Youth"_

_From a drawing by_ W. T. BENDA.]

If I had youth no chains of fear should bind me;
I'd brave the heights which older men must shun.
I'd leave the well-worn lanes of life behind me,
And seek to do what men have never done.
Rich prizes wait for those who do not waver;
The world needs men to battle for the truth.
It calls each hour for stronger hearts and braver.
This is the age for those who still have youth!

ACCOMPLISHED CARE

All things grow lovely in a little while,
The brush of memory paints a canvas fair;
The dead face through the ages wears a smile,
And glorious becomes accomplished care.

There's nothing ugly that can live for long,
There's nothing constant in the realm of pain;
Right always comes to take the place of wrong,
Who suffers much shall find the greater gain.

Life has a kindly way, despite its tears
And all the burdens which its children bear;
It crowns with beauty all the troubled years
And soothes the hurts and makes their memory fair.

Be brave when days are bitter with despair,
Be true when you are made to suffer wrong;
Life's greatest joy is an accomplished care,
There's nothing ugly that can live for long.

BULB PLANTING TIME

Last night he said the dead were dead
And scoffed my faith to scorn;
I found him at a tulip bed
When I passed by at morn.

"O ho!" said I, "the frost is near
And mist is on the hills,
And yet I find you planting here
Tulips and daffodils."

"'Tis time to plant them now," he said,
"If they shall bloom in Spring";
"But every bulb," said I, "seems dead,
And such an ugly thing."

"The pulse of life I cannot feel,
The skin is dried and brown.
Now look!" a bulb beneath my heel
I crushed and trampled down.

In anger then he said to me:
"You've killed a lovely thing;
A scarlet blossom that would be
Some morning in the Spring."

"Last night a greater sin was thine,"
To him I slowly said;
"You trampled on the dead of mine
And told me they are dead."

HIS OTHER CHANCE

He was