Look the other way an’ try
Not to let him catch my eye,
Knowin’ all the time that he
Doesn’t mean so bad to be;
Knowin’, too, that now an’ then
I am not the best o’ men;
Hopin’, too, the times I fall
That the Father of us all,
Lovin’, watchin’ over me,
Will pretend He doesn’t see.

The Joys of Home

Curling smoke from a chimney low,
And only a few more steps to go,
Faces pressed at a window pane
Watching for someone to come again,
And I am the someone they wait to see—­
These are the joys life gives to me.

What has my neighbor excelling this: 
A good wife’s love and a baby’s kiss? 
What if his chimneys tower higher? 
Peace is found at our humble fire. 
What if his silver and gold are more? 
Rest is ours when the day is o’er.

Strive for fortune and slave for fame,
You find that joy always stays the same: 
Rich man and poor man dream and pray
For a home where laughter shall ever stay,
And the wheels go round and men spend their might
For the few glad hours they may claim at night.

Home, where the kettle shall gaily sing,
Is all that matters with serf or king;
Gold and silver and laurelled fame
Are only sweet when the hearth’s aflame
With a cheerful fire, and the loved ones there
Are unafraid of the wolves of care.

So let me come home at night to rest
With those who know I have done my best;
Let the wife rejoice and my children smile,
And I’ll know by their love that I am worthwhile,
For this is conquest and world success—­
A home where abideth happiness.

We’re Dreamers All

Oh, man must dream of gladness wherever his pathways lead,
And a hint of something better is written in every creed;
And nobody wakes at morning but hopes ere the day is o’er
To have come to a richer pleasure than ever he’s known before.

For man is a dreamer ever.  He glimpses the hills afar
And plans for the joys off yonder where all his to-morrows are;
When trials and cares beset him, in the distance he still can see
A hint of a future splendid and the glory that is to be.

There’s never a man among us but cherishes dreams of rest;
We toil for that something better than that which is now our best. 
Oh, what if the cup be bitter and what if we’re racked with pain? 
There are wonderful days to follow when never we’ll grieve again.

Back of the sound of the hammer, and back of the hissing steam,
And back of the hand at the throttle is ever a lofty dream;
All of us, great or humble, look over the present need
To the dawn of the glad to-morrow which is promised in every creed.

What Is Success?

Success is being friendly when another needs a friend;
It’s in the cheery words you speak, and in the coins you lend;
Success is not alone in skill and deeds of daring great;
It’s in the roses that you plant beside your garden gate.