Hope ~ Anonymous

Never go gloomy, man with a mind,
    Hope is a better companion than fear;
  Providence, ever benignant and kind,
    Gives with a smile what you take with a tear;
      All will be right,
      Look to the light.
  Morning was ever the daughter of night;
  All that was black will be all that is bright,
     Cheerily, cheerily, then cheer up.

  Many a foe is a friend in disguise,
    Many a trouble a blessing most true,
  Helping the heart to be happy and wise,
    With love ever precious and joys ever new.
      Stand in the van,
      Strike like a man!
  This is the bravest and cleverest plan;
  Trusting in God while you do what you can.
     Cheerily, cheerily, then cheer up.

Anonymous


Just be Glad ~ Riley

O heart of mine, we shouldn’t
      Worry so!
  What we’ve missed of calm we couldn’t
      Have, you know!
  What we’ve met of stormy pain,
  And of sorrow’s driving rain,
  We can better meet again,
      If it blow!

  We have erred in that dark hour
      We have known,
  When our tears fell with the shower,
      All alone!—

Were not shine and shower blent
  As the gracious Master meant?—
  Let us temper our content
      With His own.

  For, we know, not every morrow
      Can be sad;
  So, forgetting all the sorrow
      We have had,
  Let us fold away our fears,
  And put by our foolish tears,
  And through all the coming years
      Just be glad.

James Whitcomb Riley


The Arrow and the Song ~ by Longfellow

The Arrow and the Song

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I shot an arrow into the air.

It fell to earth, I knew not where;

For, so swiftly it flew, the sight

Could not follow in its flight.

I breathed a song into the air.

It fell to earth, I knew not where;

For who has sight so keen and strong

That it can follow the flight of song.

Long, long afterward, in an oak,

I found the arrow still unbroke;

And the song, from beginning to end,

I found again in the heart of a friend.



Let Me Go Where I Will ~ Poem by Emerson

Let me go where’er I will,

I hear a sky-born music still:

It sounds from all things old,

It sounds from all things young,

From all that’s fair, from all that’s foul,

Peals out a cheerful song.

It is not only in the rose,

It is not only in the bird,

Not only where the rainbow glows,

Nor in the song of woman heard,

But in the darkest, meanest things

There alway, alway something sings.

‘Tis not in the high stars alone,

Nor in the cup of budding flowers,

Nor in the redbreast’s mellow tone,

Nor in the bow that smiles in showers,

But in the mud and scum of things

There alway, alway something sings.

—Ralph Waldo Emerson.


“On Another’s Sorrow” Poem by William Blake

On Another’s Sorrow

Can I see another’s woe,
And not be in sorrow too?
Can I see another’s grief,
And not seek for kind relief?
Can I see a falling tear,
And not feel my sorrow’s share?
Can a father see his child
Weep, nor be with sorrow filled?
Can a mother sit and hear
An infant groan, an infant fear?
No, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!
And can He who smiles on all
Hear the wren with sorrows small,
Hear the small bird’s grief and care,
Hear the woes that infants bear—
p. 30And not sit beside the nest,
Pouring pity in their breast,
And not sit the cradle near,
Weeping tear on infant’s tear?
And not sit both night and day,
Wiping all our tears away?
O no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!
He doth give His joy to all:
He becomes an infant small,
He becomes a man of woe,
He doth feel the sorrow too.
Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,
And thy Maker is not by:
Think not thou canst weep a tear,
And thy Maker is not near.
O He gives to us His joy,
That our grief He may destroy:
Till our grief is fled and gone
He doth sit by us and moan.


A Poem About Trust & Faith by Caroline Atwater Mason

Whichever way the wind doth blow,
Some heart is glad to have it so;
Then blow it east or blow it west,
The wind that blows, that wind is best.

My little craft sails not alone:
A thousand fleets from every zone
Are out upon a thousand seas;
And what for me were favoring breeze
Might dash another, with the shock
Of doom, upon some hidden rock.
And so I do not dare to pray
For winds to waft me on my way,
But leave it to a Higher Will
To stay or speed me; trusting still
That all is well, and sure that He
Who launched my bark will sail with me
Through storm and calm, and will not fail,
Whatever breezes may prevail,
To land me, every peril past,
Within His sheltering heaven at last.

Caroline Atwater Mason.

Excerpt From
The Optimist’s Good Morning