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- Thoughts
- Myra Viola Wilds
- What kind of thoughts now, do you carry
- In your travels day by day
- Are they bright and lofty visions,
- Or neglected, gone astray?
- Matters not how great in fancy,
- Or what deeds of skill you’ve wrought;
- Man, though high may be his station,
- Is no better than his thoughts.
- Catch your thoughts and hold them tightly,
- Let each one an honor be;
- Purge them, scourge them, burnish brightly,
- Then in love set each one free.
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