Is it worth while that we jostle a brother, 
Bearing his load on the rough road of life?
Is it worth while that we jeer at each other 
In blackness of heart?—that we war to the knife? 
God pity us all in our pitiful strife.

God pity us all as we jostle each other; 
God pardon us all for the triumphs we feel 
When a fellow goes down 'neath his load on the heather, 
Pierced to the heart: words are keener than steel, 
And mightier far for woe than for weal.

Were it not well, in this brief little journey 
On over the isthmus, down into the tide, 
We give him a fish instead of a serpent, 
Ere folding the hands to be and abide 
Forever and aye in dust at his side?

Look at the roses saluting each other; 
Look at the herds all at peace on the plain— 
Man, and man only, makes war on his brother, 
And dotes in his heart on his peril and pain— 
Shamed by the brutes that go down on the plain.

Is it worth while that we battle to humble 
Some poor fellow down into the dust? 
God pity us all! Time too soon will tumble 
All of us together, like leaves in a gust, 
Humbled, indeed, down into the dust.

Why should we envy a moment of pleasure 
Some poor fellow-mortal has wrung from it all? 
Oh! could you look into his life's broken measure— 
Look at the dregs—at the wormwood and gall— 
Look at his heart hung with crape like a pall;

Look at the skeletons down by his hearthstone; 
Look at his cares in their merciless sway, 
I know you would go and say tenderly, lowly, 
Brother—my brother, for aye and for aye, 
Lo! Lethe is washing the blackness away.

There were Two little Bears who lived in a Wood,
And one of them was Bad and the other was Good.
Good Bear learnt his Twice Times One — 
But Bad Bear left all his buttons undone.

They lived in a Tree when the weather was hot,
And one of them was Good, and the other was Not.
Good Bear learnt his Twice Times Two — 
But Bad Bear's thingummies were worn right through.

They lived in a Cave when the weather was cold,
And they Did, and they Didn't Do, what they were told.
Good Bear learnt his Twice Times Three — 
But Bad Bear never had his hand-ker-chee.

They lived in the Wood with a Kind Old Aunt,
And one said "Yes'm," and the other said "Shan't!"
Good Bear learnt his Twice Times Four — 
But Bad Bear's knicketies were terrible tore.

And then quite suddenly (just like Us)
One got Better and the other got Wuss.
Good Bear muddled his Twice Times Three — 
But Bad Bear coughed in his hand-ker-chee!

Good Bear muddled his Twice Times Two — 
But Bad Bear's thingummies looked like new.
Good Bear muddled his Twice Times One — 
But Bad Bear never left his buttons undone.

There may be a Moral, though some say not;
I think there's a moral, though I don't know what.
But if one gets better, as the other gets wuss,
These Two Little Bears are just like Us.
For Christopher remembers up to Twice Times Ten….
But I keep forgetting where I've put my pen.