All the past is not worth one today.

So many gods, so many creeds, so many paths that wind and wind while just the art of being kind is all the sad world needs.

We two make banquets of the plainest fare In every cup we find the thrill of pleasure... For us life always moves with lilting measure We two, we two, we make our world, our pleasure

Let there be many windows to your soul, that all the glory of the world may beautify it.

Let us clear a little space, And make Love a burial-place. He is dead, dear, as you see, And he wearies you and me.

Better than glory, or honors, or fame, (Though I am striving for those to-day) To know that some heart will cherish my name, And think of me kindly, with blessings, alway.

Time is the best avenger.