the joy that you give to others is the joy that comes back to you

For all sad words of tongue and pen, The saddest are these, 'It might have been'.

And step by step, since time began, I see the steady gain of man.

Oh, talk as we may of beauty as a thing to be chiselled from marble or wrought out on canvas, speculate as we may upon its colors and outlines, what is it but an intellectual abstraction, after all? The heart feels a beauty of another kind; looking through the outward environment, it discovers a deeper and more real love-liness.

Flowers spring to blossom where she walks The careful ways of duty; Our hard, stiff lines of life with her Are flowing curves of beauty.

Few have borne unconsciously the spell of loveliness.

Low stir of leaves and dip of oars And lapsing waves on quiet shores.