There Are No Gods

There are no gods that bring to youth The rich rewards that stalwarts claim; The god of fortune is in truth A vision and an empty name. The toiler who through doubt and care Unto his goal and victory plods, With no one need his glory share: He is himself his favoring gods.

There are no gods that will bestow Earth's joys and blessings on a man. Each one must choose the path he'll go, Then win from it what joy he can. And he that battles with the odds Shall know success, but he who waits The favors of the mystic gods, Shall never come to glory's gates.

No man is greater than his will; No gods to him will lend a hand! Upon his courage and his skill The record of his life must stand. What honors shall befall to him, What he shall claim of fame or pelf, Depend not on the favoring whim Of fortune's god, but on himself.

The Auto

An auto is a helpful thing; I love the way the motor hums, I love each cushion and each spring, The way it goes, the way it comes; It saves me many a dreary mile, It brings me quickly to the smile Of those at home, and every day It adds unto my time for play.

It keeps me with my friends in touch; No journey now appears too much To make with meetings at the end: It gives me time to be a friend. It laughs at distance, and has power To lengthen every fleeting hour. It bears me into country new That otherwise I'd never view.

It's swift and sturdy and it strives To fill with happiness our lives; When for the doctor we've a need It brings him to our door with speed. It saves us hours of anxious care And heavy heartache and despair. It has its faults, but still I sing: The auto is a helpful thing.