The sum of what we are to be may yet be counted good.
Old years and new years, with all their pain and strife,
Are but the bricks and steel and stone with which we fashion life;
So put the sin and shame away, and keep the fine and true,
And on the glory of the past let's build the better new.
When We're All Alike
I've trudged life's highway up and down;
I've watched the lines of men march by;
I've seen them in the busy town,
And seen them under country sky;
I've talked with toilers in the ranks,
And walked with men whose hands were white,
And learned, when closed were stores and banks,
We're nearly all alike at night.
Just find the wise professor when
He isn't lost in ancient lore,
And he, like many other men,
Romps with his children on the floor.
He puts his gravity aside
To share in innocent delight.
Stripped of position's pomp and pride,
We're nearly all the same at night.
Serving a common cause, we go
Unto our separate tasks by day,
And rich or poor or great or low,
Regardless of their place or pay,
Cherish the common dreams of men--
A home where love and peace unite.
We serve the self-same end and plan,
We're all alike when it is night.
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