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

'Tis easy enough to be pleasant, When life flows along like a song; But the man worth while is the one who will smile when everything goes dead wrong.

It is easy to tell the toiler How best he can carry his pack But no one can rate a burden's weight Until it has been on his back

Love gives us copious potions of delight, Of pain and ecstasy, and peace and care; Love leads us upward, to the mountain height, And, like an angel, stands beside us there; Then thrusts us, demon-like, in some abyss: Where, in the darkness of despair, we grope, Till, suddenly, Love greets us with a kiss And guides us back to flowery fields of hope.

Talk happiness. The world is sad enough without your woe. No path is wholly rough.

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

Love much. Earth has enough of bitter in it.