Spring's greatest joy beyond a doubt is when it brings the children out.
The Making of Friends Life is sweet because of the friends we have made And the things which in common we share; We want to live on, not because of ourselves, But because of the ones who would care. It's living and doing for somebody else On that all of life's splendor depends, And the joy of it all, when we count it all up, Is found in the making of friends.
If your purse no longer bulges and you've lost your golden treasure, If times you think you're lonely and have hungry grown for pleasure, Don't sit by your hearth and grumble, don't let mind and spirit harden. If it's thrills of joy you wish for get to work and plant a garden! If it's drama that you sigh for, plant a garden and you'll get it You will know the thrill of battle fighting foes that will beset it If you long for entertainment and for pageantry most glowing, Plant a garden and this summer spend your time with green things growing.
At Christmas A man is at his finest towards the finish of the year; He is almost what he should be when the Christmas season's here; Then he's thinking more of others than he's thought the months before, And the laughter of his children is a joy worth toiling for. He is less a selfish creature than at any other time; When the Christmas spirit rules him he comes close to the sublime.
The happy man is he who turns his soul Unto the light of joys that he can find; And pays each day its just demand of toll, But shuts the future troubles from his mind.
Tomorrow--there's no day so fair, It knows no sorrow; A day that banishes despair, Joy rules tomorrow.
Along a stream that raced and ran Through tangled trees and over stones, That long had heard the pipes o' Pan And shared the joys that nature owns, I met a fellow fisherman, Who greeted me in cheerful tones. . . . . Foes think the bad in him they've guessed And prate about the wrong they scan; Friends that have seen him at his best Believe they know his every plan; I know him better than the rest, I know him as a fisherman.
Children...they string our joys, like jewels bright, upon the thread of years.
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