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Inspiring poem – One of these days

Say! Let's forget it! Let's put it aside!
Life is so large and the world is so wide.
Days are so short and there's so much to do,
What if it was false--there's plenty that's true.
Say! Let's forget it! Let's brush it away
Now and forever, so what do you say?
All of the bitter words said may be praise
One of these days.

Say! Let's forget it! Let's wipe off the slate,
Find something better to cherish than hate.
There's so much good in the world that we've had,
Let's strike a balance and cross off the bad.
Say! Let's forgive it, whatever it be,
Let's not be slaves when we ought to be free.
We shall be walking in sunshiny ways
One of these days.

Say! Let's not mind it! Let's smile it away,
Bring not a withered rose from yesterday;
Flowers are so fresh from the wayside and wood,
Sorrows are blessings but half understood.
Say! Let's not mind it, however it seems,
Hope is so sweet and holds so many dreams;
All of the sere fields with blossoms shall blaze
One of these days.

Say! Let's not take it so sorely to heart!
Hates may be friendships just drifted apart,
Failure be genius not quite understood,
Say! Let's get closer to somebody's side,
See what his dreams are and learn how he tried,
See if our scoldings won't give way to praise
One of these days.

Say! Let's not wither! Let's branch out and rise
Out of the byways and nearer the skies.
Let's spread some shade that's refreshing and deep
Where some tired traveler may lie down and sleep.
Say! Let's not tarry! Let's do it right now;
So much to do if we just find out how!
We may not be here to help folks or praise
One of these days.

by James A. Foley
Original publication

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The Welcome Man

THE WELCOME MAN

There's a man in the world who is never turned down, wherever he chances to stray;

he gets the glad hand in the populous town, or out where the farmers make hay;

he's greeted with pleasure on deserts of sand, and deep in the aisles of the woods;

wherever he goes there's the welcoming hand--he's The Man Who Delivers the Goods.

The failures of life sit around and complain; the gods haven't treated them white;

they've lost their umbrellas whenever there's rain, and they haven't their lanterns at night;

men tire of the failures who fill with their sighs the air of their own neighborhoods;

there's one who is greeted with love-lighted eyes--he's The Man Who Delivers the Goods.

One fellow is lazy, and watches the clock, and waits for the whistle to blow;

and one has a hammer, with which he will knock, and one tells a story of woe;

and one, if requested to travel a mile, will measure the perches and roods;

but one does his stunt with a whistle or smile--he's The Man Who Delivers the Goods.

One man is afraid that he'll labor too hard--the world isn't yearning for such;

and one man is always alert, on his guard, lest he put in a minute too much;

and one has a grouch or a temper that's bad, and one is a creature of moods;

so it's hey for the joyous and rollicking lad--for the One Who Delivers the Goods!

Walt Mason.

From 'Walt Mason, His Book.

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The Road Not Taken

by Robert Frost


Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.