V.
O, Morning on the Hill-tops! The dim eyes look to you,
Beyond the darkened valleys and all the griefs they knew,
And to the sunshine waiting in realms of rhapsody,
The paths lead on and upward to where you wait for me!
The Defeated.
Not he who loses but who fails to fight,
In God's long years reaps [harvestings] of blame;
Not he the blind but who destroys the sight
Receives the curses of the ages' blame!
See the Side-Show.
When you visit at the circus
And behold the steeds bedight,
And the hoops and rings and races
And the clowns that make delight,—
You will miss the happy touches
That complete your broadest grin
If you see the main performance
And don't take the side-show in.
There'll be high and lofty tumbles,
There'll be acrobatic feats,
There'll be leaps and bounds and twistings,
That will lift you from your seats;
But with all the glare and glitter,
You'll but know the fun begin,
If you see the main performance
And don't take the side-show in.
There'll be elephants and lions.
There'll be bears and tigers, too;
There'll be clowns in robes and spangles
All to please the boy in you;
But the raptures of your gladness
Nothing can completely win,
If you see the main performance
And don't take the side-show in.
Life is something of a circus:
It has half a hundred rings
Where its jumbled aggregation
Earth's attractions to you brings;
But they leave the heart still heavy
As it stirs with stress and din,
If you see the main performance
And don't take the side-show in!
Voting Around.
"Well, Sam, how's cotton-picking getting along?" asked a white man of his colored neighbor.
"Hain't doin' any cotton-pickin' yit," replied Sam. "'Lection time's a-comin' an' I'm jes' a-votin' erroun' tell the candahdates quit runnin'!"
Little Sermons.
Religion is too often what the other fellow [ought] to practice.
Good never bears any fruit for you, except when cultivated in your own heart.
The devil always has a patent medicine recommended to cure trouble and increase pleasure.
Examine the looks of your conscience. It may be only prejudice that has placed its hand-baggage in the wrong room.
We are always glad to gather the harvest, which is abundant for the whole world, but are willing to leave the weed-pulling to the other fellow.
Love Brings the Song.
What if there's trouble
And what if there's wrong?
God sends the sunshine
And Love brings the song!
What if you stumble
When racing it strong?
Love will uplift you,
For Love brings the song!
Bury your troubles,
And life will be long:
God sends the sunshine
And Love brings the song!
Mistah Cotton.
Mistah Cotton come toh me
In de young spring-time,
En he say, say he toh me,
"Sambo, bet yuh dime,
Dat you'll never pick dat patch!
Dat I'll fool yuh crap,
Fer de weeds'll make a catch
En de bolls'll drap!"
Den I chase him up en down,
En I take his bet;
Chop dat cotton clar toh town;
How dis niggah sweat!
En I plow him sho'ly fine,—
Wo'k him day en night,
En de fust t'ing, how he shine
Wid de rows ob white!
Mistah Cotton, doan't yuh t'ink
Yuh kin fool me now;
I'll dis pick yuh quick es wink,—
Lemme show yuh how!
Pile yuh in de wagon-bed,
Sell yuh, ting a ling!
How de silvah-dallahs spread
Dat sweet song dey sing!
Don't use a telescope to discover your neighbor's faults. Even the sun has a few spots, but it would be a cold day for you without the glory of his shine.