Into life's calm the wind of sorrow came,

And fanned the fire of love to clearest flame.

VICTORY IN DEFEAT

BY EDWIN MARKHAM

Defeat may serve as well as victory
To shake the soul and let the glory out.
When the great oak is straining in the wind,

The boughs drink in new beauty, and the trunk
Sends down a deeper root on the windward side.
Only the soul that knows the mighty grief
Can know the mighty rapture. Sorrows come
To stretch out spaces in the heart for joy.

SONGS OF JOY

BY WILLIAM H. DAVIES

Sing out, my Soul, thy songs of joy;
Such as a happy bird will sing
Beneath a Rainbow's lovely arch
In early spring.

Think not of Death in thy young days;

Why shouldst thou that grim tyrant fear,

And fear him not when thou art old,

And he is near.

Strive not for gold, for greedy fools

Measure themselves by poor men never; Their standard still being richer men, Makes them poor ever.

Train up thy mind to feel content,
What matters then how low thy store?
What we enjoy, and not possess,
Makes rich or poor.

Filled with sweet thought, then happy I
Take not my state from others' eyes;
What's in my mind-not on my flesh.
Or theirs I prize.

Sing, happy Soul, thy songs of joy;
Such as a Brook sings in the wood,
That all night has been strengthened by
Heaven's purer flood.

PIPPA'S SONG

BY ROBERT BROWNING

The year's at the spring,

And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;

The hill-side's dew-pearl'd;
The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn;
God's in His heaven-

All's right with the world!

IDLE TO GRIEVE

BY DUNCAN CAMPBELL SCOTT

Idle to grieve when the stars are clear above me,
When the bright waters bubble in the spring,
Idle to grieve when there are storms to prove me
And birds that seek me out to come and sing.

Idle to grieve, the light is on the highway, There are the mountain meadows to achieve, Beyond in the pass the airy heights are my way, Idle to grieve, glad heart, idle to grieve.

DUET

(I sing with myself)

BY LEONORA SPEYER

Out of my sorrow

I'll build a stair,

And every to-morrow

Will climb to me there—

With ashes of yesterday

In its hair.

My fortune is made.
Of a stab in the side,
My debts are paid
In pennies of pride—

Unminted coins

In a heart I hide.

The stones that I eat

Are ripe for my needs,

My cup is complete

With the dregs of deeds

Clear are the notes

Of my broken reeds.

I carry my pack
Of aches and stings,
Light with the lack
Of all good things—

But not on my back,
Because of my wings!

COMFORT

BY MARGARET FRENCH PATTON

If grief should come to me
Like a big wind bringing the rain,
Or if sorrow should cramp my heart
With its pain,

I know where my heart would turn, As a battered flower to the sun,

To your face-with its wrinkled smile-
And its fun.

THE MINISTERING SPIRITS

BY EDMUND SPENSER

How oft do they their silver bowers leave,
To come to succour us that succour want!
How oft do they with golden pineons cleave
The flitting skyes, like flying Pursuivant,
Against fowle feendes to ayd us militant!
They for us fight, they watch and dewly ward,
And their bright Squadrons round about us plant;
And all for love, and nothing for reward.

O! why should hevenly God to men have such regard?

I LOVE THE FRIENDLY FACES OF
OLD SORROWS

BY KARLE WILSON BAKER

I love the friendly faces of old Sorrows;
I have no secrets that they do not know.
They are so old, I think they have forgotten
What bitter words were spoken, long ago.

I hate the cold, stern faces of new Sorrows
Who stand and watch, and catch me all alone.
I should be braver if I could remember
How different the older ones have grown.