When on the height reach down to troubled friend,
And lift your fellowmen, toil not for greed.
Wash out the grounds and fill the empty cup.
The rose will bloom where rocky pathways wend.




THE FLY AND THE SPIDER


The big black fly was in a sorry plight;
She hung and dangled in a spider's web.
It was too late to make a hurried flight.
The sand is sifting and the tides will ebb.

The spider then drew dose his silken thread,
It was no use to ask the reason why.
He only wished to eat and save his head,
And he must catch his breakfast, or die.




HER GOOD BYE


I love you, Darling, sweetheart mine,
Our troth is pledged, O joy divine!
With apple blossoms in my hair