Let there be peace on earth, that men may cast
  Their hatreds far away and gather sheaves
  Of golden days in patterns justice weaves;
  That sunset hours may glow with love at last,
  The atmosphere be filled with faith and light,
  No war, nor bombs, no words of discontent. 
  Let there be peace on every hill and plain,
  That men may live and toil with hearts alight,
  That each may aid his brother in content. 
  Let grasses grow and flowers bloom again.

WHAT IS THIS WISDOM

  Remaining staunchly there in shriveled earth,
  The canna stood serene, refreshed by dew
  That silently, each cooling night anew
  Spread living gems to sparkle in their mirth. 
  Beneath, the bulb lay proving well its birth—­
  A shower passed, the funnel leaves caught true—­
  The plant awoke with life and beauty too. 
  And not a drop was wasted of the worth!

  The bud refrained from coming into bloom,
  As though it waited for the lusty rain,
  With low leaves dried and drooping to the ground. 
  What is this wisdom in all nature’s room
  That fights to live and grow, and not in vain,
  But God, whose strength in all things may be found.

SOLDIER TRAINS

  Hear the rumbling of the trains,
    Soldier trains. 
  Ever droning, jarring, roaring on the rails
  Through the amber lights of dawn. 
  Hear them rolling right along
  Now acoming and now gone,
    Iron wheel follows wheel,
  Round the bend of the river going strong.

  They are taking our brave soldier boys
  To the barracks.  Hear the thumping of the drums
  How they beat and beat and beat,
  In the morning and at night,
  Hear the tramping, marching feet,
    All in line stepping fine
  Hear the praying from the firesides down the street.

  Hear the roaring of the trains,
    Speeding trains
  With the rumbling.  Shouting home-boys off to war! 
  Now they travel to far shores. 
  See them waving their good-byes,
  There’s the girl that Joe adores
    Waving hand, smiling band! 
  Hear the laughter from the windows and the doors.

DEAR POSSESSIONS

  A loaf of bread with a glass of milk
  With a roof that shelters and a restful bed,
  A place to wear the faded silk
  And a pillow for the aching head;

  A kettle that sings while the night wind sighs,
  And a cup of tea to drink;
  A hearth to sweep and a babe that cries,
  With a pile of dishes in the sink.

  A home to keep and a man to love,
  With a heart that is true and fine. 
  These precious things sent from heaven above,
  Will be prized for yours and for mine.

THE UNBIDDEN TEARS