Come, cuddle your head on my shoulder, dear, your head like the golden rod, and we will go sailing away from here to the beautiful Land Of Nod.

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.

And let its meaning permeate each day. Whatever comes, This too shall pass away.

The truest greatness lies in being kind, the truest wisdom in a happy mind.

It stands in the light transfigured, It speaks from the heights above, "Each Soul Is Its Own Redeemer; There Is No Law But Love."

All roads that lead to God are good.

Whatever your work and whatever its worth, No matter how strong or clever, Some one will sneer if you pause to hear, And scoff at your best endeavor. For the target art has a broad expanse, And wherever you chance to hit it, Though close be your aim to the bull's-eye fame, There are those who will never admit it.