If we were all alike, what a dreadful world 'twould be!
No one would know which one was you or which of us was me.
We'd never have a “Skinny” or a “Freckles” or a “Fat,”
An' there wouldn't be a sissy boy to wear a velvet hat;
An' we'd all of us be pitchers when we played a baseball match,
For we'd never have a feller who'd have nerve enough to catch.

If we were all alike an' looked an' thought the same,
I wonder how'd they call us, 'cause there'd only be one name.
An' there'd only be one flavor for our ice cream sodas, too,

Once there was a boy who never
Tore his clothes, or hardly ever;
Never made his sister mad,
Never whipped fer bein' bad,
Never scolded by his Ma,
Never frowned at by his Pa,
Always fit fer folks to see,
Always good as good could be.

This good little boy from Heaven,
So I'm told, was only seven,
Yet he never shed real tears
When his mother scrubbed his ears,
An' at times when he was dressed
Fer a party, in his best,
He was careful of his shirt
Not to get it smeared with dirt.

Used to study late at night,

Be more than his dad,
Be a chum to the lad;
Be a part of his life
Every hour of the day;
Find time to talk with him,
Take time to walk with him,
Share in his studies
And share in his play;
Take him to places,
To ball games and races,
Teach him the things
That you want him to know;
Don't live apart from him,
Don't keep your heart from him,
Be his best comrade,
He's needing you so!

Never neglect him,
Though young, still respect him,
Hear his opinions
With patience and pride;
Show him his error,
But be not a terror,

It's joy to be up in the morning when the dew's on the grass and clover,
And the air is full of a freshness that makes it a draught divine,—
To mount one's wheel and go flying away and away,—a rover
In the wide, bright world of beauty—and all the world seems mine!

There's a breath of balm on the breezes from the cups of the wayside posies;
A hint of the incense-odors that blow through the hillside pines,
And ever a shifting landscape that some new, bright charm discloses
As I flash from nooks of shadow to plains where the sun-light shines.

One wintry night, upon a certain farm,
A fire broke out; the folks in great alarm,
Not knowing what to do, all run about
Some bring up water, others only shout:
“Fetch out the things into the field here, quick!”
The oxen bellow, and the horses kick;
The little children and the women cry;
But a poor Gipsy who was passing by
Stood near the flames that from the building sprung,
And warmed her hands, and said in Gipsy tongue:
“A fire in winter does one good to see;
What's your bad luck may prove good luck to me!”

From the sight of my Lover's bed I come.
The bed of my Lover is the path of the Sat Guru.

Sabda is the lock and Sabda the key, the chain thereof is Sabda too.
The Sabdas are coverlets, the mattress Sabda: the Sabda the sheet of many colours.

In the form of Sabda the Lord is seated: at His feet I lay down my head.
Dulam Das, praise the Lord Jagjivan: thy body by his fire illumined.

The drive it ain't such easy graft that I would recommend
To any gink to ride the drink, an', least of all, a friend.
It's up at four an' sluice a dam or sack a swampy rear
Until the sun has got the run an' baby stars appear.
It ain't no job to recommend
To anybody that's a friend.

I've heard some guy from off the plains who'd punched the cows a spell
Describe the same an' cuss an' claim the cowboy life is hell—
When cattle beller in the night an' fifty head go down,
When bulls stampede an' rivers bleed from trampled banks of brown,

If it shine or if it rain,
Little will I care or know.
Days, like drops upon a pane,
Slip, and join, and go.

At my door's another lad;
Here's his flower in my hair.
If he see me pale and sad,
Will he see me fair?

I sit looking at the floor.
Little will I think or say
If he seek another door;
Even if he stay.

Heav'n's! what a sight my startled eyes behold!
'Mid peals of thunder how the lightnings play!
Now dark'ning clouds, in dire confusion roll'd,
Hide the last glimm'rings of departed day.

Now night in tenfold gloom begins her reign;
Wild bounds our bark with all her canvass furl'd.
How howls the madd'ning wind along the main,
The breaking billows o'er the topmast hurl'd,
And fearful yawns, by fits, th' unfathom'd world!

Oh, thou! whom not the heav'n of heav'ns contains,
Who oft has sav'd me from the wat'ry grave,

So greatly thy great pleasaunce pleasured me,
Gentle my lady, from the first of all,
That counting every other blessing small
I gave myself up wholly to know thee:
And since I was made thine, thy courtesy
And worth, more than of earth, celestial,
I learned, and from its freedom did enthrall
My heart, the servant of thy grace to be.
Whereof I pray thee, joyful countenance,
Humbly, that it incense or irk thee not,
If I, being thine, do wait upon thy glance
More to solicit, I am all afraid:
Yet, lady, twofold is the gift, we wot,