Give Them the Flowers Now

LOSED eyes can't see the white roses;

CLOSE

Cold hands can't hold them, you know! Breath that is stilled can not gather

The odors that sweet from them blow.
Death, with a peace beyond dreaming,
Its children of earth doth endow;
Life is the time we can help them;
So give them the flowers now!

Here are the struggles and striving;
Here are the cares and the tears;
Now is the time to be smoothing

The frowns and the furrows and fears.
What, to closed ears, are kind sayings?
What, to hushed heart, is deep vow?
Naught can avail after parting—
So give them the flowers now.

Just a kind word or a greeting;

Just a warm clasp or a smileThese are the flowers that will lighten The burdens for many a mile.

After the journey is over

What is the use of them? how

Can they carry them, who must be carried? Oh, give them the flowers now!

Blooms from the happy heart's garden,
Plucked in the spirit of love;

Blooms that are earthly reflections

Of flowers that blossom above-
Words can not tell what a measure
Of blessing such gifts will allow
To dwell in the lives of many;

So give them the flowers now.

-Anon.

IF

Give to the Living

F we gave unto the living as we lavish on the dead, Kindly thoughts and gentle phrases, tender words and friendly praises,

Blotting out all imperfections, holding virtues up to light;

If we left no daily token of our love and care unspokenThen would life be well worth living in a world all glad and bright.

If we offered to the living, as we heap upon the dead, Fragrant flowers of affection, blossoms of sweet recollection,

Waiting not till hands are folded on the quiet, pulseless breast,

Then the passion of our pleading would not fall on ears unheeding,

Nor our tears fall, unavailing, on the weary form at rest.

If we gave unto the living as we lavish on the dead All our heart's long hidden treasure, all love's full, unstinted measure,

Adding, day by day, new jewels to the crown of human bliss,

Then life's burdens would weigh lightly, and the sun would shine more brightly,

And not Heaven itself were fairer than a world as glad as this.

-Ida Goldsmith Morris

Tell Him So

IF you hear a kind word spoken

It

Of some worthy soul you know,
may fill his heart with sunshine
If you only tell him so.

If a deed, however humble,

Helps you on your way to go,

Seek the one whose hand has helped you,
Seek him out and tell him so!

If

your heart is touched and tender
Toward a sinner, lost and low,
It might help him to do better
If you'd only tell him so!

Oh, my sisters, oh, my brothers,

As o'er life's rough path you go.
If God's love has saved and kept you,

Do not fail to tell men so!

-Anon.

Best of All

E doeth well who doeth good

Ho those of his own brotherhood;

He doeth better who doth bless
The stranger in his wretchedness;
Yet best, oh! best of all doth he
Who helps a fallen enemy.

What Is Good?

"WI ask in musing mood.

HAT is the real good?"

"Order," said the law court;

"Knowledge," said the school;
"Truth," said the wise man;
"Pleasure," said the fool;
"Love," said the maiden;

"Beauty," said the page;
"Freedom," said the dreamer;

"Home," said the sage;
"Fame," said the soldier;
"Equity," the seer.

Spake my heart full sadly:

"The answer is not here."

Then within my bosom
Softly this I heard:

-Anon.

"Each heart holds the secret:

'Kindness is the word.""

-John Boyle O'Reilly

LABOR

1

The Thinker 1

BACK of the beating hammer

By which the steel is wrought,
Back of the workshop's clamor,
The seeker may find the Thought;
The Thought that is ever master
Of iron and steam and steel,
That rises above disaster

And tramples it under heel!

The drudge may fret and tinker,
Or labor with dusty blows,
But back of him stands the Thinker,

The clear-eyed man who knows;

For into each plow or saber,

Each piece and part and whole,

Must go the Brains of Labor,
Which gives the work a soul!

Might of the roaring boiler,

Force of the engine's thrust,

Strength of the sweating toiler,

Greatly in these we trust.

But back of them stands the Schemer,

1 Used by permission of the author.