How do you buy your money?  For money is bought and sold,
And each man barters himself on earth for his silver and shining gold,
And by the bargain he makes with men, the sum of his life is told.

Some buy their coins in a manly way, some buy them with honest toil;
Some pay for their currency here on earth by tilling a patch of soil;
Some buy it with copper and iron and steel, and some with barrels of oil.

The good man buys it from day to day by giving the best he can;
He coins his strength for his children’s needs and lives to a simple plan,
And he keeps some time for the home he makes and some for his fellowman.

But some men buy it with women’s tears, and some with a blasted name;
And some will barter the joy of life for the fortune they hope to claim;
And some are so mad for the clink of gold that they buy it with deeds of
    shame.

How do you buy your money?  For money demands its price,
And some men think when they purchase coin that they mustn’t be over-nice—­
But beware of the man who would sell you gold at a shameful sacrifice!

Mother’s Day

Let every day be Mother’s Day! 
Make roses grow along her way
  And beauty everywhere. 
Oh, never let her eyes be wet
With tears of sorrow or regret,
  And never cease to care! 
Come, grown up children, and rejoice
That you can hear your mother’s voice!

A day for her!  For you she gave
Long years of love and service brave;
  For you her youth was spent. 
There was no weight of hurt or care
Too heavy for her strength to bear;
  She followed where you went;
Her courage and her love sublime
You could depend on all the time.

No day or night she set apart
On which to open wide her heart
  And welcome you within;
There was no hour you would not be
First in her thought and memory,
  Though you were black as sin! 
Though skies were gray or skies were blue
Not once has she forgotten you.

Let every day be Mother’s Day! 
With love and roses strew her way,
  And smiles of joy and pride! 
Come, grown up children, to the knee
Where long ago you used to be
  And never turn aside;
Oh, never let her eyes grow wet
With tears, because her babes forget.

When We Play the Fool

Last night I stood in a tawdry place
And watched the ways of the human race. 
I looked at a party of shrieking girls
Piled on a table that whirls and whirls,
And saw them thrown in a tangled heap,
Sprawling and squirming and several deep. 
And unto the wife who was standing by,
“These are all angels to be,” said I.

I followed the ways of the merry throng
And heard the laughter and mirth and song. 
Into a barrel which turned and swayed
Men and women a journey made,
And tumbling together they seemed to be
Like so many porpoises out at sea—­
Men and women who’d worked all day,
Eagerly seeking a chance to play.