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The telephone rang in my office to-day, as it often has tinkled before. I turned in my chair in a half-grouchy way, for a telephone call is a bore; And I thought, “It women nike air max is somebody wanting to know the distance from here to Pekin.” In a tone that was gruff I shouted “Hello,” a sign for the talk to begin. “What is it?” I asked in a terrible way. I was huffy, to tell you the truth, Then over the wire I heard my wife say: “The baby, my dear, has a tooth!” I have seen a man jump when the horse that he backed finished first in a well-driven race. I have heard the man cheer, as a matter of fact, and I’ve seen the blood rush to his face; I’ve been on the spot when good news has come in and I’ve witnessed expressions of glee That range from a yell to a tilt of the chin; and some things have happened to me That have thrilled me with joy from my toes to my head, but never from earliest youth Have I jumped with delight as I did when she said, “The baby, my dear, has a tooth.” A Heap O’ Livin’ 62 I have answered the telephone thousands of times for messages both good and bad ; I’ve received the reports of most horrible crimes, and news that was cheerful or sad; I’ve been telephoned this and been telephoned that, a joke, or an errand to run; I’ve been called to the phone for the idlest of chat, when there was much work to be done; But never before have I realized quite the thrill of a message. forsooth, Till over the wire came these words that I write, “The baby, my dear, has a tooth.” Home and the Baby Home was never home before,Till the baby came. Love no golden jewels wore,Till the baby came. There was joy, but now it seems Dreams were not the rosy dreams, Sunbeams not such golden beams–Till the baby came. Home was never really gay,Till the baby came. I’d forgotten how to play,Till the baby came. Smiles were never half so bright, Troubles never half so light, Worry never took to flight,Till the baby came. Home was never half so blest,Till the baby came. Lacking something that was best,Till the baby came. Kisses were not half so sweet, Love not really so complete, Joy had never found our streetTill the baby came. The Fisherman Along a stream that raced and ranThrough tangled trees and over stones, That long had heard cheap air max the pipes o’ PanAnd shared the joys that nature owns, I met a fellow fisherman,Who greeted me in cheerful tones. The lines of women nike air max care were on his face.I guessed that he had buried dead; Had run for gold full many a race,And kept great problems in his head, But in that gentle resting placeNo word of wealth or fame he said. He showed me trout that he had caughtAnd praised the larger ones of mine; Told me how that big beauty foughtAnd almost broke his silken line; Spoke of the trees and sky, and thoughtThem proof of life and power divine. There man to man we talked of treesAnd birds, as people talk of men; Discussed the busy ways of beesWondered what lies beyond our ken; Where is the land no mortal sees,And shall we come this way again. “Out here,” he told me, with a smile,”Away from all the city’s sham, The strife for splendor and for style,The ticker and the telegram I come for A Heap O’ Livin’ 63 just a little whileTo be exactly as I am.” Foes think the bad in him they’ve guessedAnd prate about the wrong they scan; Friends that have seen him at his bestBelieve they know his every plan; I know him better than the rest,I know him as a fisherman. The March of Mortality Over the hills of time to the valley of endless years; Over the roads of woe to the land that is free from tears Up from the haunts of men to the place where the angels are, This is the march of mortality to a wonderful goal afar. Troopers we are in life, warring at times with wrong, But promised ever unbroken rest at last in a land of song; And whether we serve or rule, and whether we fall or rise, We shall come, in time, to that golden vale where never the spirit dies. Back of the strife for gain, and under the toil for fame, The dreams of men in this mortal march have ever remained the same. They have lived through their days and years for the great rewards to be, When earth’s dusty garb shall be laid aside for the robes of eternity. This is the march of mortality, whatever man’s race or creed, And whether he’s one of the savage tribe or one of a higher breed, He is conscious dimly of better things that were promised him long ago, And he keeps his place in the line with men for the joys that his soul shall know. Growing Down Time was I thought of growing up,But that was ere the babies came; I’d dream and plan to be a manAnd win my share of wealth and fame, For age held all the splendors thenAnd wisdom seemed lifes brightest crown For mortal brow. It’s different now.Each evening finds me growing down. <a href="http://www.mybape.com/bapenewandbettershoes-c-15.html"><strong>cheap bape shoes</strong></a> I’m not so keen for growing upTo wrinkled cheek and heavy tongue, And sluggish blood; with little BudI long to be a comrade young. His sports are joys I want to share,His games are games I want to play, An old man grim’s no chum for himAnd so I’m growing down to-day. I’m back to marbles and to tops,To flying kites and one-ol’-cat; “Fan acres!” I now loudly cry;I also take my turn at bat; I’ve had my fling at growing upAnd want no old man’s fair renown. To be a boy is finer joy,And so I’ve started growing down. A Heap O’ Livin’ 64 Once more I’m learning games I knewWhen I was four and five and six, I’m going back along life’s trackTo find the same old-fashioned tricks, And happy are the hours we spendTogether, without sigh or frown. To be a boy is Age’s joy,And so to him I’m growing down. The Roads of Happiness The roads of happiness are not The selfish roads of pleasure seeking,Where cheeks are flushed with haste and hot And none has time for kindly speaking.But they’re the roads where lovers stray, Where wives and husbands walk togetherAnd children romp along the way Whenever it is pleasant weather. The roads of happiness are trod By simple folks and tenderhearted, By gentle folks that worship God And want to live their days unparted.There kindly people stop and talk, Regardless of the chase for money,There, nike air max plus arm in arm, the grown-ups walk And every eye you see is sunny. The roads of happiness are lined, Not with the friends of royal splendor,But with the loyal friends and kind That do the gentle deeds and tender.There fame has never brought unrest Nor glory set men’s hearts to aching;There unabandoned is life’s best For selfish love and money making. The roads of happiness are those That do not lead to pomp and gloryBut wind among the joys and woes That make the humble toiler’s story.The roads that oft we used to tread In early days when first we mated,When hearts were light and cheeks were red, And days were not with burdens freighted. June June is here, the month of roses, month of brides and month of bees, Weaving garlands for our lassies, whispering love songs in the trees, Painting scenes of gorgeous splendor, canvases no man could brush, Changing scenes from early morning till the sunset’s crimson flush. June is here, the month of blossoms, month of roses white and red, Wet with dew and perfume-laden, nodding wheresoe’er we tread; Come the bees to gather honey, all the lazy afternoon; Flowers and lassies, men and meadows, love alike the month of June. A Heap O’ Livin’ 65 Month of love and month of sunshine, month of happiness and song, Month that cheers the sad wayfarer as he plods the road along; Spreading out a velvet carpet, green and yellow, for his feet, And affording for his rest hours many a cool and sweet retreat. When Mother Sleeps When mother sleeps, a slamming doorDisturbs her not at all; A man might walk across the floorOr wander through the hall A pistol shot outside would notDrive slumber from her eyes– But she is always on the spotThe moment baby cries. The thunder crash she would not hear,Nor shouting in the street; A barking dog, however near,Of sleep can never cheat Dear mother, but I’ve noticed thisTo my profound surprise: That always wide-awake she isThe moment baby cries. However weary she may be,Though wrapped in slumber nike air max shop deep, Somehow it always seems to meHer vigil she will keep. Sound sleeper that she is, I takeIt in her heart there lies A love that causes her to wakeThe moment baby cries. The Weaver The patter of rain on the roof,The nike air max usa glint of the sun on the rose; Of life, these the warp and the woof,The weaving that everyone knows. Now grief with its consequent tear,Now joy with its luminous smile; The days are the threads df the year–Is what I am weaving worth while? What pattern have I on my loom?Shall my bit of tapestry please? Am I working with gray threads of gloom?Is there faith in the figures I seize? When my fingers are lifeless and cold,And the threads I no longer can weave Shall there be there for men to beholdOne sign of the things I believe? God sends me the gray days and rare,The threads from his bountiful skein, And many, as sunshine, are fair.And some are as dark as the rain. And I think as I toil to expressMy life through the days slipping by, Shall my tapestry prove a success?What sort of a weaver am I? Am I making the most of the redAnd the bright strands of luminous gold? Or blotting them nike air max 87 out with the threadBy which all men’s failure is told? Am I picturing nike air max 180 life as despair,As a thing men shall shudder to see, Or A Heap O’ Livin’ 66 weaving a bit that is fairThat shall stand as the record of me? The Few The easy roads are crowdedAnd the level roads are jammed; The pleasant little riversWith the drifting folks are crammed. But off yonder where it’s rocky,Where you get a better view, You will find the ranks are thinningAnd the travelers are few. Where the going’s smooth and pleasantYou will always find the throng, For the many, more’s the pity,Seem to like to drift along. But the steeps that call for courage,And the task that’s hard to do In the end result nike usa store in gloryFor the never-wavering few. Real Swimming I saw him in the distance, as the train went speeding by, A shivery little fellow standing in the sun to dry. And a little pile of clothing very near him I could see: He was owner of a gladness that had once belonged to me. I have shivered as he shivered, I have dried the way he dried, I’ve stood ########## in God’s sunshine with my garments at my side; And I thought as I beheld him, of the many weary men Who would like to go in swimming as a little boy again. I saw him scarce a moment, yet I nike air max 90 knew his lips were blue And nike air max 97 I knew his teeth were chattering just as mine were wont to do; And I knew his merry playmates in the pond were splashing still; I could tell how much he envied all the boys that never chill; And throughout that lonesome journey, I kept living o’er and o’er The joys of going swimming when no bathing suits we wore; I was with that little fellow, standing chattering in the sun; I was sharing in his shivers and a partner of his fun. Back to me there came the pictures that I never shall forget When I dared not travel homewards if my shock <a href="http://www.mybape.com/bapeairshoes-c-5.html"><strong>bape air shoes</strong></a> of hair was wet, When I did my brief undressing under fine and friendly trees In the days before convention rigged us up in b.v.d’s. And I dived for stones and metal on the mill pond’s muddy floor, Then stood ########## in the sunshine till my blood grew warm once more. I was back again, a youngster, in those golden days of old, When my teeth were wont to chatter and my lips were blue with cold. The Love of the Game A Heap O’ Livin’ 67 There is too much of sighing, and weavingOf pitiful tales of despair. There is too much of wailing and grieving,And too much of railing at care. There is far too much glorificationOf money and pleasure and fame; But I sing the joy of my station,And I sing the love of my game. There is too much of tremble-lip tellingOf hurts that have come with the fight. There is too much of pitiful dwellingOn plans that have failed to go right. There is too much of envious piningFor luxuries others may claim. Too much thought of wining and dining,But I sing the love of my game. There is too much of grim magnifyingThe troubles that come with the day, There is too much indifferent tryingTo travel a care-beset way. Too much do men think of gold-getting,Too much have they underwrit shame, Which accounts for the frowning and fretting,But I sing the joy of my game. Let’s get back to the work we are doing;Let us reckon its joys and its pain; Let us pause while our tasks we’re reviewing,To sum up the cost of each gain. Let us give up our whining and wailingBecause of the bruises that maim, And battle the chances of failingAs being a part of the game. Let us care more for serving than winning,Let us look at our woes as they are; It is time now that we were beginningTo be less afraid of a scar. Let us cease in our glorificationOf money and pleasure and fame, And find, whatsoe’er be our station,Our joy in the love of the game. Roses and Sunshine Rough is the road I am journeying now,Heavy the burden I’m bearing to-day; But I’m humming a song, as I wander along,And I smile at the roses that nod by the way.Red roses sweet,Blooming there at my feet, Just dripping with honey and perfume and cheer;What a weakling I’d beIf I tried not to see The joy and the comfort you bring to us here. Just tramping along o’er the highway of life,Knowing not what’s ahead but still doing my best; And I sing as I go, for my soul seems to know In the end I shall come to the valley of rest.With the sun in my faceAnd the roses to grace The roads that I travel, what have I to fear?What a coward I’d beIf I tried not to see The roses of hope and the sunshine of cheer. A Mountain Woman 1 A Mountain Woman By Elia Wilkinson Peattie To My best Friend, and kindest Critic, My Husband. A Mountain Woman 2 IF Leroy Brainard had not had such a respect for literature, he would have written a book. As it was, he played at being an architect — and succeeded in being a charming fellow. My sister Jessica never lost an opportunity of laughing at his endeavors as an architect. “You can build an enchanting villa, but what would you do nike air max trainers with a cathedral?” <a href="http://436100.info/view.php?id=101328"><strong>etc. Now Ugg produces casual shoes | North Face Jackets In 2012 ...</strong></a> “I shall never have a chance at a cathe- dral,” he would reply. “And, besides, it always seems to me so material and so im- pertinent to build a little structure of stone and wood in which to worship God!” You see what he was like? He was frivo- lous, yet one could never tell when he would become eloquently earnest. Brainard went off suddenly Westward one day. I suspected that Jessica was at the bottom of it, but I asked no questions; and I did not hear from him for months. Then I got a letter from Colorado. “I have married a mountain woman,” he wrote. “None of your puny breed of modern femininity, but a remnant left over from the heroic ages, – - a primitive woman, grand and vast of spirit, capable of true and steadfast wifehood. No sophistry about her; no knowledge even that there is sophistry. Heavens! man, do you remember the ron- deaux and triolets I used to write to those pretty creatures back East? It would take a Saga man of the old Norseland to write for my mountain woman. If I were an artist, I would paint her with the north star in her locks and her feet on purple cloud. I suppose you are at the Pier. I know you usually are at this season. At any rate, I shall direct this letter thither, and will follow close after it. I want my wife to see some- thing of life. And I want her to meet your sister.” “Dear me!” cried Jessica, when I read the letter to her; “I don’t know that I care to meet anything quite so gigantic as that mountain woman. I’m one of the puny breed of modern femininity, you know. I don’t think my nerves can stand the encounter.” “Why, Jessica!” I protested. She blushed a little. A Mountain Woman 3 “Don’t think bad of me, Victor. But, you see, I’ve a little scrap-book of those triolets upstairs.” Then she burst into a peal of irresistible laughter. “I’m not laughing because I am piqued,” she said nike air max 90 infrared frankly. “Though any one will admit that it is rather irritating to have a man who left you in a blasted condition recover with such extraordinary promptness. As a philanthropist, one of course rejoices, but as a woman, Victor, it must be admitted that one has a right to feel annoyed. But, honestly, I am not ungenerous, and I am going to do him a favor. I shall write, and urge him not to bring his wife here. A primitive woman, with the north star in her hair, would look well down there in the ############ eating a pineapple ice, wouldn’t she? It’s all very well to have a soul, you know; but it won’t keep
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