Whoever builds a mighty name
And fills the country with his fame,
Who seeks and uses earthly power
To make a stately triumph hour,
Who rears a mansion rich and high
To frown against the kindly sky,
If he has not found happiness
Is still a failure none the less.
Whoever dwells in humble walls
Where only toilsome care befalls,
Who plans when dear ones are in bed
Where shall be found to-morrow’s bread,
To cheer whose heart Life only brings
The humble joy of simple things,
If happiness has crowned his name,
He is successful just the same.
The Trouble with the Movies (1928)
[Transcriber’s note: All verses are italicized.]
The trouble with the movies,
As it appears to me,
Is not what the wise people
About me seem to see.
But I do raise objection
In accents bold and high
To one outstanding evil
The waste of custard pie.
If all that precious pastry
Thrown with such ready grace,
Such technique and precision,
At some poor fellow’s face,
Were gathered all together
For my convenience, I
Would just retire from labor
And live on custard pie.