The Cumaean sibyl offered Tarquin the Proud nine books for what seemed an exorbitant sum.  He refused.  She burned three of the books, and placed the same price on the six as on the original nine.  Again he refused.  She burned three more books, and offered the remainder for the sum she first named.  This time Tarquin accepted.  The books were found to contain prophecies and invaluable directions regarding Roman policy, but alas, they were no longer complete.  So it is with joy.  To take it now is to get it in its entirety.  To defer until some other occasion is to get less of it—­at the same cost.

  Today, whatever may annoy,
  The word for it is Joy, just simple joy: 
  The joy of life;
  The joy of children and of wife;
  The joy of bright blue skies;
  The joy of rain; the glad surprise
  Of twinkling stars that shine at night;
  The joy of winged things upon their flight;
  The joy of noonday, and the tried,
  True joyousness of eventide;
  The joy of labor and of mirth;
  The joy of air, and sea, and earth—­
  The countless joys that ever flow from Him
  Whose vast beneficence doth dim
  The lustrous light of day,
  And lavish gifts divine upon our way. 
  Whatever there be of Sorrow
  I’ll put off till To-morrow,
  And when To-morrow comes, why, then
  ’Twill be To-day, and Joy again!

John Kendrick Bangs.

From “The Atlantic Monthly.”

ENVOI

Franklin K. Lane stipulated that when he died his body should be cremated and the ashes scattered from El Capitan over the beautiful Yosemite Valley.  He thus symbolized what many of us feel—­the unity of our deeper and finer selves with the eternal life and loveliness of nature.

  Oh seek me not within a tomb;
  Thou shalt not find me in the clay! 
  I pierce a little wall of gloom
  To mingle with the Day!

  I brothered with the things that pass,
  Poor giddy Joy and puckered Grief;
  I go to brother with the Grass
  And with the sunning Leaf.

  Not Death can sheathe me in a shroud;
  A joy-sword whetted keen with pain,
  I join the armies of the Cloud
  The Lightning and the Rain.

  Oh subtle in the sap athrill,
  Athletic in the glad uplift,
  A portion of the Cosmic Will,
  I pierce the planet-drift.

  My God and I shall interknit
  As rain and Ocean, breath and Air;
  And oh, the luring thought of it
  Is prayer!

John G. Neihardt

From “The Quest” (collected lyrics).

JAW

We all like a firm, straightforward chin provided it is not ruled by a wagging, gossiping tongue.

  This fellow’s jaw is built so frail
  That you could break it like a weed;
  That fellow’s chin retreats until
  You’d think it in a wild stampede. 
  Defects like these but show how soon
  The purpose droops, the spirits flag—­
  We like a jaw that’s made of steel,
  Just so it’s not inclined to wag.