From the Rock Island Argus, April 23, 1913. By S. E. Kiser. How drear a place the world would be If all who fail to win success Permitted all the rest to see The evidence of their distress! How fortunate it is that men So often hide the griefs they bear So often still try bravely when Their breasts are laden with despair. How few men ever would achieve The victories that are so sweet If each should let the world perceive Whenever he had met defeat! How few men would be deemed sublime By those whose hearts are moved to song If each sat grumbling every time His heart ached or his plans went wrong. How little there would be to praise How much to keep us plunged in gloom If each but waited all his days To hear the dreadful crack of doom! ’Tis well that men conceal despair When stubborn fate has used them ill; Why not, if you have woes to bear, Assist by seeming hopeful still?