You Have to Believe in Happiness
You have to believe in happiness,
Or happiness never comes.
I know that the bird chirps none the less,
When all that he finds is crumbs.
You have to believe that winds will blow,
Believe in the grass, the days of snow,
Ah, that’s the reason the bird can sing:
On his darkest day he believes in Spring.
You have to believe in happiness,
It isn’t an outward thing;
The Spring never makes the song, I guess,
As much as the song makes the Spring.
Aye, man’s heart could find content,
If it saw the joy on the road it went,
The joy ahead when it had to grieve,
For the joy is there - but you have to believe.
by Douglas Malloch
Douglas Malloch, Senior was born on 5 May 1877 in Muskegon, Michigan, United States of America. He grew up in the midst of logging camps, sawmills, and lumber yards. He became enamored with writing poems and stories about lumbering scenes and eventually became known as the ‘Lumbermen’s Poet.’ He wrote his first poem at 10 years of age, which was published in the “Detroit News.” After leaving school, he took a job on the editorial staff at the “Muskegon Chronicle,” where he remained for 13 years, becoming a reporter and feature writer for the paper. After leaving the “Muskegon Chronicle,” he joined the staff of the “American Lumberman” in 1903 as a syndicated columnist. Mr. Malloch soon became a popular and nationally renowned humorist, lecturer, and radio personality. His column was often written in the form of a poem and eventually the poems were collected into a series of books with “In Forest Land” (1906) being his first published work and a national best seller. Douglas Malloch, Senior passed on at 61 years of age on 2 July 1938 in Muskegon, Michigan, United States of America.
You have to believe in happiness,
Or happiness never comes.
I know that the bird chirps none the less,
When all that he finds is crumbs.
You have to believe that winds will blow,
Believe in the grass, the days of snow,
Ah, that’s the reason the bird can sing:
On his darkest day he believes in Spring.
You have to believe in happiness,
It isn’t an outward thing;
The Spring never makes the song, I guess,
As much as the song makes the Spring.
Aye, man’s heart could find content,
If it saw the joy on the road it went,
The joy ahead when it had to grieve,
For the joy is there - but you have to believe.
by Douglas Malloch
Douglas Malloch, Senior was born on 5 May 1877 in Muskegon, Michigan, United States of America. He grew up in the midst of logging camps, sawmills, and lumber yards. He became enamored with writing poems and stories about lumbering scenes and eventually became known as the ‘Lumbermen’s Poet.’ He wrote his first poem at 10 years of age, which was published in the “Detroit News.” After leaving school, he took a job on the editorial staff at the “Muskegon Chronicle,” where he remained for 13 years, becoming a reporter and feature writer for the paper. After leaving the “Muskegon Chronicle,” he joined the staff of the “American Lumberman” in 1903 as a syndicated columnist. Mr. Malloch soon became a popular and nationally renowned humorist, lecturer, and radio personality. His column was often written in the form of a poem and eventually the poems were collected into a series of books with “In Forest Land” (1906) being his first published work and a national best seller. Douglas Malloch, Senior passed on at 61 years of age on 2 July 1938 in Muskegon, Michigan, United States of America.
That kept me alive. I always wondered where it came from. I am 60 and that phrase has kept me alive since I was 20