He let out the sails and away went the three Over the waters of Ignorant Sea, Out and away to Stupid Land; And they live there yet, I understand.

And there's where every one goes, they say, Who seeks the Island of Endless Play.

THE RIVER OF SLEEP

There are curious isles in the River of Sleep, Curious isles without number.

We'll visit them all as we leisurely creep Down the winding stream whose current is deep, In our beautiful barge of Slumber.

The very first isle in this wonderful stream Quite close to the sh.o.r.e is lying, And after a supper of cakes and cream We come to the Night-Mare-Isle with a scream, And hurry away from it crying.

And next is the Island-of-Lullaby, And every one there rejoices.

The winds are only a perfumed sigh, And the birds that sing in the treetops try To imitate Mothers' voices.

A little beyond is the Isle-of-Dreams; Oh, that is the place to be straying.

Everything there is just as it seems; Dolls are real and sunshine gleams, And no one calls us from playing.

And then we come to the drollest isle, And the funniest sounds come pouring Down from its borderlands once in a while, And we lean o'er our barge and listen and smile; For that is the Isle-of-Snoring.

And the very last isle in the River of Sleep Is the sunshiny Isle-of-Waking.

We see it first with our eyes a-peep, And we give a yawn--then away we leap, The barge of Slumber forsaking.

THE THINGS THAT COUNT

Now, dear, it isn't the bold things, Great deeds of valour and might, That count the most in the summing up of life at the end of the day.

But it is the doing of old things, Small acts that are just and right; And doing them over and over again, no matter what others say; In smiling at fate, when you want to cry, and in keeping at work when you want to play - Dear, those are the things that count.

And, dear, it isn't the new ways Where the wonder-seekers crowd That lead us into the land of content, or help us to find our own.

But it is keeping to true ways, Though the music is not so loud, And there may be many a shadowed spot where we journey along alone; In flinging a prayer at the face of fear, and in changing into a song a groan - Dear, these are the things that count.

My dear, it isn't the loud part Of creeds that are pleasing to G.o.d, Not the chant of a prayer, or the hum of a hymn, or a jubilant shout or song.

But it is the beautiful proud part Of walking with feet faith-shod; And in loving, loving, loving through all, no matter how things go wrong; In trusting ever, though dark the day, and in keeping your hope when the way seems long - Dear, these are the things that count.

LIMITLESS

When the motive is right and the will is strong There are no limits to human power; For that great Force back of us moves along And takes us with it, in trial's hour.

And whatever the height you yearn to climb, Though it never was trod by the foot of man, And no matter how steep--I say you CAN, If you will be patient--and use your time.

WHAT THEY SAW

Sad man, Sad man, tell me, pray, What did you see to-day?

I saw the unloved and unhappy old, waiting for slow delinquent death to come; Pale little children toiling for the rich, in rooms where sunlight is ashamed to go; The awful almshouse, where the living dead rot slowly in their hideous open graves.

And there were shameful things.

Soldiers and forts, and industries of death, and devil-ships, and loud- winged devil-birds, All bent on slaughter and destruction. These and yet more shameful things mine eyes beheld: Old men upon lascivious conquest bent, and young men living with no thought of G.o.d, And half-clothed women puffing at a weed, aping the vices of the underworld, Engrossed in shallow pleasures and intent on being barren wives.

These things I saw.

(How G.o.d must loathe His earth!)

Glad man, Glad man, tell me, pray.

What did you see to-day?

I saw an aged couple, in whose eyes Shone that deep light of mingled love and faith, Which makes the earth one room of paradise, And leaves no sting in death.

I saw vast regiments of children pour, Rank after rank, out of the schoolroom door By Progress mobilised. They seemed to say: 'Let ignorance make way.

We are the heralds of a better day.'

I saw the college and the church that stood For all things sane and good.

I saw G.o.d's helpers in the shop and slum Blazing a path for health and hope to come, And True Religion, from the grave of creeds, Springing to meet man's needs.

I saw great Science reverently stand And listen for a sound from Border-land, No longer arrogant with unbelief - Holding itself aloof - But drawing near, and searching high and low For that complete and all-convincing proof Which shall permit its voice to comfort grief, Saying, 'We know.'

I saw fair women in their radiance rise And trample old traditions in the dust.

Looking in their clear eyes, I seemed to hear these words as from the skies: 'He who would father our sweet children must Be worthy of the trust.'

Against the rosy dawn, I saw unfurled The banner of the race we usher in, The supermen and women of the world, Who make no code of s.e.x to cover sin; Before they till the soil of parenthood, They look to it that seed and soil are good.

And I saw, too, that old, old sight, and best - Pure mothers, with dear babies at the breast.

These things I saw.

(How G.o.d must love His earth!)

THE CONVENTION

From the Queen Bee mother, the mother Beast, and the mother Fowl in the fen, A call went up to the human world, to Woman, the mother of men.

The call said, 'Come: for we, the dumb, are given speech for a day, And the things we have thought for a thousand years we are going at last to say.'

Much they marvelled, these women of earth, at the strange and curious call, And some of them laughed, and some of them sneered, but they answered it one and all, For they wanted to hear what never before was heard since the world began - The spoken word of Beast and Bird, and the message it held for Man.

'A plea for shelter,' the woman said, 'or food in the wintry weathers, Or a foolish request that we be dressed without their furs or feathers.

We will do what we can for the poor dumb things, but they must be sensible.' Then The meeting was called and a she-bear stood and voiced the thought of the fen.