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So once in every year we throng Upon a day apart, to praise the Lord with feast and song in thankfulness of heart.

Arthur Guiterman

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Arthur Guiterman
Age: 71 †
Born: 1871
Born: November 20
Died: 1943
Died: January 11
Journalist
Librettist
Writer
the United States of America
Years
Apart
Praise
Year
Lord
Upon
Throng
Song
Feast
Heart
Thankfulness
Every
Thanksgiving

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Oh the saddest of sights in a world of sin Is the little lost pup with his tail tucked in.
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What one approves , another scorns, And thus his nature each discloses: You find the rosebush full of thorns, I find the thornbush full of roses.
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He who knows what he is told must know a lot of things that are not so.
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When Do no Evil has been understood, Then learn the harder, braver rule, Do Good.
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It's lovely having grass and trees and flowers(Of course, at times, mosquitoes are a pest).Yes, life is life out here in Rangely Towers(Of course Some People like the city best)!
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When life is woe, and hope is dumb, the World says, Go! The Grave says, Come!
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God, give me hills to climb, And strength for climbing!
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Of all cold words of tongue or pen, the worst are these: I knew him when -
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For the young Gaels of Ireland Are the lads that drive me mad, For half their words need footnotes And half their rhymes are bad.
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I hope the Vandals had thorns in their sandals
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Until the Donkey tried to clear The Fence, he thought himself a Deer.
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Scheme not to make what's Another's your own Be not a Dog for the sake of a Bone.
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Porcupine, whom one must Handle, glove'd, May be Respected, but is never Loved.
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Admitting errors clears the score and proves you wiser than before.
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A Man consumes the Time you make him Wait In thinking of your Faults-so don't be late!
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