A day which passed without a poem from my pen I considered lost and misused.

The splendid discontent of God With chaos made the world. And from the discontent of man The worlds best progress springs.

All the past is not worth one today.

Always continue the climb. It is possible for you to do whatever you choose.

While forced to dwell apart from thy dear face, Love, robed like sorrow, led me by the hand And taught my doubting heart to understand That which has puzzled all the human race.

God, what a world, if men in street and mart felt that same kinship of the human heart which makes them, in the face of fire and flood, rise to the meaning of true brotherhood.

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