Chapter I: Foreword (1)

This is a volume of inspirational poems. Its purpose is to bring men courage and resolution, to cheer them, to fire them with new confidence when they grow dispirited, to strengthen their faith that THINGS CAN BE DONE. It is better for this purpose than the entire works of any one poet, for it takes the cream of many and has greater diversity than any one writer can show.

It is made up chiefly of very recent poems--not such as were written for anthologies of poetical "gems," but such as speak directly to the heart, always in very simple language, often in the phrases of shop or office or street. Included, however, with the poems of the day are a few of the fine old pieces that have been of comfort to men through the ages.

Besides the poems themselves, the volume contains helps to their understanding and enjoyment. The pieces are introduced by short comments; these serve the same purpose as the strain played by the pianist before the singer begins to sing; they create a mood, give a point of view, throw light on the meaning of what follows. Also the lives of the authors are briefly summarized; this is in answer to our natural interest in the writer of a poem we like, and in the case of living poets it brings together facts hardly to be found anywhere else.

Finally, the book is not one to be read and then cast aside. It is to be kept as a constant companion and an unfailing recourse in weariness or gloom. Human companions are not always in the mood to cheer us, and may talk upon themes we dislike. But this book will converse or be silent, it is never out of sorts or discouraged, and so far from being wed to some single topic, it will speak to us at any time on any subject we desire.

To many authors and publishers acknowledgment is due for generous permission to use copyright material.

CONTENTS

Abou Ben Adhem............................. _Leigh Hunt_ Answer, The................................ _Grantland Rice_ Appreciation............................... _William Judson Kibby_ Arrow and the Song, The.................... _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ Awareness.................................. _Miriam Teichner_

Bars of Fate, The.......................... _Ellen M.H. Gates_ Battle Cry................................. _John G. Neihardt_ Belly and the Members, The................. _William Shakespeare_ Be the Best of Whatever You Are............ _Douglas Malloch_ Borrowed Feathers.......................... _Joseph Morris_ Borrowing Trouble.......................... _Robert Burns_ Brave Life................................. _Grantland Rice_

Call of the Unbeaten, The.................. _Grantland Rice_ Can't...................................... _Edgar A. Guest_ Can You Sing a Song?....................... _Joseph Morris_ Cares...................................... _Elizabeth Barrett Browning_ Celestial Surgeon, The..................... _Robert Louis Stevenson_ Challenge.................................. _Jean Nette_ Chambered Nautilus, The.................... _Oliver Wendell Holmes_ Character of a Happy Life.................. _Sir Henry Wotton_ Clear the Way.............................. _Charles Mackay_ Cleon and I................................ _Charles Mackay_ Columbus................................... _Joaquin Miller_ Conqueror, The............................. _Berton Braley_ Co-operation............................... _J. Mason Knox_ Courage.................................... _Florence Earle Coates Cowards.................................... _William Shakespeare_ Creed, A................................... _Edwin Markham_

Daffodils, The............................. _William Wordsworth_ Days of Cheer.............................. _James W. Foley_ December 31................................ _S.E. Kiser_ De Sunflower Ain't de Daisy................ _Anonymous_ Disappointed, The.......................... _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ Duty....................................... _Ralph Waldo Emerson_ Duty....................................... _Edwin Markham_

Envoi...................................... _John G. Neihardt_ Essentials................................. _St. Clair Adams_

Fable...................................... _Ralph Waldo Emerson_ Fairy Song................................. _John Keats_ Faith...................................... _S.E. Kiser_ Faith...................................... _Edward Rowland Sill_ Fighter, The............................... _S.E. Kiser_ Fighting Failure, The...................... _Everard Jack Appleton_ Firm of Grin and Barrett, The.............. _Sam Walter Foss_ Four Things................................ _Henry Van Dyke_ Friends of Mine............................ _James W. Foley_

Game, The.................................. _Grantland Rice _ Gifts of God, The.......................... _George Herbert_ Gift, The.................................. _Robert Burns_ Gladness................................... _Anna Hempstead Branch_ Glad Song, The............................. _Joseph Morris_ God........................................ _Gamaliel Bradford_ Good Deeds................................. _William Shakespeare_ Good Intentions............................ _St. Clair Adams_ Good Name, A............................... _William Shakespeare_ Gradatim................................... _G. Holland_ Gray Days.................................. _Griffith Alexander_ Greatness of the Soul, The................. _Alfred Tennyson_ Grief...................................... _Angela Morgan_ Grumpy Guy, The............................ _Griffith Alexander_

Happy Heart, The........................... _Thomas Dekker_ Has-Beens, The............................. _Walt Mason_ Having Done and Doing...................... _William Shakespeare_ Heinelet................................... _Gamaliel Bradford _ Helpin' Out................................ _William Judson Kibby_ Here's Hopin'.............................. _Frank L. Stanton_ Hero, A.................................... _Florence Earle Coates_ He Whom a Dream Hath Possessed............. _Sheamus O Sheel_ His Ally................................... _William Rose Benét_ Hoe Your Row............................... _Frank L. Stanton_ Hold Fast.................................. _Everard Jack Appleton_ Hope....................................... _Anonymous_ Hopeful Brother, A......................... _Frank L. Stanton_ House by the Side of the Road, The......... _Sam Walter Foss_ How Did You Die?........................... _Edmund Vance Cooke_ How Do You Tackle Your Work?............... _Edgar A. Guest_ Hymn to Happiness, A....................... _James W. Foley_

If......................................... _John Kendrick Bangs_ If......................................... _Rudyard Kipling_ If I Should Die............................ _Ben King_ If You Can't Go Over or Under, Go Round.... _Joseph Morris_ I'm Glad................................... _Anonymous_ Inner Light, The........................... _John Milton_ Invictus................................... _William Ernest Henley_ Is It Raining, Little Flower?.............. _Anonymous_ It Couldn't Be Done........................ _Edgar A. Guest_ It May Be.................................. _S.E. Riser_ It Won't Stay Blowed....................... _St. Clair Adams_

Jaw........................................ _St. Clair Adams_ Joy of Living, The......................... _Gamaliel Bradford_ Just Be Glad............................... _James Whitcomb Riley_ Just Whistle............................... _Frank L. Stanton_

Keep A-Goin'!.............................. _Frank L. Stanton_ Keep On Keepin' On......................... _Anonymous_ Keep Sweet................................. _Strickland W. Gillilan_ Kingdom of Man, The........................ _John Kendrick Bangs_ Know Thyself............................... _Angela Morgan_

Laugh a Little Bit......................... _Edmund Vance Cooke_ Lesson from History, A..................... _Joseph Morris_ Let Me Live Out My Years................... _John G. Neihardt_ Life....................................... _Griffith Alexander_ Life....................................... _Edward Rowland Sill_ Life....................................... _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ Life and Death............................. _Anna Barbauld_ Life and Death............................. _Ernest H. Crosby_ Life, not Death............................ _Alfred Tennyson_ Life Without Passion....................... _William Shakespeare_ Lion Path, The............................. _Charlotte Perkins Gilman_ Lions and Ants............................. _Walt Mason_ Little Prayer, A........................... _S.E. Kiser_ Little Thankful Song, A.................... _Frank L. Stanton_ Lose the Day Loitering..................... _Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_

Man, Bird, and God......................... _Robert Browning_ Man or Manikin............................. _Richard Butler Glaenzer_ Man's a Man for A' That, A................. _Robert Burns_ Man Who Frets at Worldly Strife, The....... _Joseph Rodman Drake_ Meetin' Trouble............................ _Everard Jack Appleton_ "Might Have Been".......................... _Grantland Rice_ Mistress Fate.............................. _William Rose Benét_ Morality................................... _Matthew Arnold_ My Creed................................... _S.E. Kiser_ My Philosophy.............................. _James Whitcomb Riley_ My Triumph................................. _John Greenleaf Whittier_ My Wage.................................... _Jessie B. Rittenhouse_

Never Trouble Trouble...................... _St. Clair Adams_ New Duckling, The.......................... _Alfred Noyes_ Noble Nature, The.......................... _Ben Jonson_

Ode to Duty................................ _William Wordsworth_ On Being Ready............................. _Grantland Rice_ On Down the Road........................... _Grantland Rice_ One Fight More............................. _Theodosia Garrison_ One of These Days.......................... _James W. Foley_ One, The................................... _Everard Jack Appleton_ Opening Paradise........................... _Thomas Gray_ Opportunity................................ _Berton Braley_ Opportunity................................ _John James Ingalls_ Opportunity................................ _Walter Malone_ Opportunity................................ _Edwin Markham_ Opportunity................................ _William Shakespeare_ Opportunity................................ _Edward Rowland Sill_ Order and the Bees......................... _William Shakespeare_ Ownership.................................. _St. Clair Adams_

Painting the Lily.......................... _William Shakespeare_ Per Aspera................................. _Florence Earle Coates_ Pessimist, The............................. _Ben King_ Philosopher, A............................. _John Kendrick Bangs_ Philosophy for Croakers.................... _Joseph Morris_ Pippa's Song............................... _Robert Browning_ Playing the Game........................... _Anonymous_ Playing the Game........................... _Berton Braley_ Play the Game.............................. _Henry Newbolt_ Polonius's Advice to Laertes............... _William Shakespeare_ Poor Unfortunate, A........................ _Frank L. Stanton_ Praise the Generous Gods for Giving........ _William Ernest Henley_ Prayer, A.................................. _Theodosia Garrison_ Prayer for Pain............................ _John G. Neihardt_ Preparedness............................... _Edwin Markham_ Press On................................... _Park Benjamin _ Pretty Good World, A....................... _Frank L. Stanton_ Problem to Be Solved, A.................... _St. Clair Adams_ Prometheus Unbound......................... _Percy Bysshe Shelley_ Prospice................................... _Robert Browning_ Psalm of Life, A........................... _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_

Quitter, The............................... _Robert W. Service_

Rabbi Ben Ezra............................. _Robert Browning_ Rainbow, The............................... _William Wordsworth_ Rectifying Years, The...................... _St. Clair Adams_ Resolve.................................... _Charlotte Perkins Gilman_ Richer Mines, The.......................... _John Kendrick Bangs_ Ring Out, Wild Bells....................... _Alfred Tennyson_ Rules for the Road......................... _Edwin Markham_

Sadness and Merriment...................... _William Shakespeare_ Say Not the Struggle Nought Availeth....... _Arthur Hugh Clough_ See It Through............................. _Edgar A. Guest_ Self-Dependence............................ _Matthew Arnold_ Serenity................................... _Lord Byron_ Sit Down, Sad Soul......................... _Bryan Waller Procter_ Sleep and the Monarch...................... _William Shakespeare_ Slogan..................................... _Jane M'Lean_ Smiles..................................... _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ Smiling Paradox, A......................... _John Kendrick Bangs_ Solitude................................... _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ Song of Endeavor........................... _James W. Foley_ Song of Life, A............................ _Angela Morgan_ Song of Thanksgiving, A.................... _Angela Morgan_ Song of To-morrow, A....................... _Frank L. Stanton_ Stability.................................. _William Shakespeare_ Stand Forth!............................... _Angela Morgan_ Start Where You Stand...................... _Bert on Braley_ Steadfast.................................. _Everard Jack Appleton_ Stone Rejected, The........................ _Edwin Markham_ Struggle, The.............................. _Miriam Teichner_ Submission................................. _Miriam Teichner_ Success.................................... _Berton Braley_ Swellitis.................................. _Joseph Morris_ Syndicated Smile, The...................... _St. Clair Adams_

There Will Always Be Something to Do....... _Edgar A. Guest_ Thick Is the Darkness...................... _William Ernest Henley_ Things That Haven't Been Done Before, The.. _Edgar A. Guest_ This World................................. _Frank L. Stanton_ Times Go by Turns.......................... _Robert Southwell_ Tit for Tat................................ _St. Clair Adams_ To Althea from Prison...................... _Richard Lovelace_ Toast to Merriment, A...................... _James W. Foley_ To a Young Man............................. _Edgar A. Guest_ To-day..................................... _Thomas Carlyle_ To-day..................................... _Douglas Malloch_ To Melancholy.............................. _John Kendrick Bangs_ To the Men Who Lose........................ _Anonymous_ To Those Who Fail.......................... _Joaquin Miller_ To Youth After Pain........................ _Margaret Widdemer_ Trainers, The.............................. _Grantland Rice_ Two at a Fireside.......................... _Edwin Markham_ Two Raindrops.............................. _Joseph Morris_

Ultimate Act............................... _Henry Bryan Binns_ Ulysses.................................... _Alfred Tennyson_ Unafraid................................... _Everard Jack Appleton_ Undismayed................................. _James W. Foley_ Unmusical Soloist, The..................... _Joseph Morris_ Unsubdued.................................. _S.E. Kiser_

Victory.................................... _Miriam Teichner_ Victory in Defeat.......................... _Edwin Markham_

Wanted--a Man.............................. _St. Clair Adams_ Welcome Man, The........................... _Walt Mason_ What Dark Days Do.......................... _Everard Jack Appleton_ When Earth's Last Picture Is Painted....... _Rudyard Kipling_ When Nature Wants a Man.................... _Angela Morgan_ Will....................................... _Alfred Tennyson_ Will....................................... _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ Wisdom of Folly, The....................... _Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler_ Wishing.................................... _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_ Woman Who Understands, The................. _Everard Jack Appleton_ Word, The.................................. _John Kendrick Bangs_ Work....................................... _Angela Morgan_ Work....................................... _Henry Van Dyke_ World Is Against Me, The................... _Edgar A. Guest_ Worth While................................ _Ella Wheeler Wilcox_

You May Count That Day..................... _George Eliot_ Your Mission............................... _Ellen M.H. Gates_

IT CAN BE DONE

BE THE BEST OF WHATEVER YOU ARE

We all dream of great deeds and high positions, away from the pettiness and humdrum of ordinary life. Yet success is not occupying a lofty place or doing conspicuous work; it is being the best that is in you. Rattling around in too big a job is much worse than filling a small one to overflowing. Dream, aspire by all means; but do not ruin the life you must lead by dreaming pipe-dreams of the one you would like to lead. Make the most of what you have and are. Perhaps your trivial, immediate task is your one sure way of proving your mettle. Do the thing near at hand, and great things will come to your hand to be done.

If you can't be a pine on the top of the hill
Be a scrub in the valley--but be
The best little scrub by the side of the rill;
Be a bush if you can't be a tree.

If you can't be a bush be a bit of the grass,
And some highway some happier make;
If you can't be a muskie then just be a bass--
But the liveliest bass in the lake!

We can't all be captains, we've got to be crew,
There's something for all of us here.
There's big work to do and there's lesser to do,
And the task we must do is the near.

If you can't be a highway then just be a trail,
If you can't be the sun be a star;
It isn't by size that you win or you fail--
Be the best of whatever you are!

_Douglas Malloch._

THE HOUSE BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD

This poem has as its keynote friendship and sympathy for other people. It is a paradox of life that by hoarding love and happiness we lose them, and that only by giving them away can we keep them for ourselves. The more we share, the more we possess. We of course find in other people weaknesses and sins, but our best means of curing these are through a wise and sympathetic understanding.

Let me live in a house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by--
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban;--
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I see from my house by the side of the road,
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears--
Both parts of an infinite plan;--
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead
And mountains of wearisome height;
And the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice,
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.

Let me live in my house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by--
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish--so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat
Or hurl the cynic's ban?--
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

_Sam Walter Foss._

From "Dreams in Homespun."

FOUR THINGS

What are the qualities of ideal manhood? Various people have given various answers to this question. Here the poet states what qualities he thinks indispensable.

Four things a man must learn to do
If he would make his record true:
To think without confusion clearly;
To love his fellow-men sincerely;
To act from honest motives purely;
To trust in God and Heaven securely.

_Henry Van Dyke._

From "Collected Poems."

IF

The central idea of this poem is that success comes from self-control and a true sense of the values of things. In extremes lies danger. A man must not lose heart because of doubts or opposition, yet he must do his best to see the grounds for both. He must not be deceived into thinking either triumph or disaster final; he must use each wisely--and push on. In all things he must hold to the golden mean. If he does, he will own the world, and even better, for his personal reward he will attain the full stature of manhood.

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master;
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them; "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

_Rudyard Kipling._

From "Rudyard Kipling's Verse, 1885-1918."

INVICTUS

Triumph in spirit over adverse conditions is the keynote of this poem of courage undismayed. It rings with the power of the individual to guide his own destiny.

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

_William Ernest Henley._

IT COULDN'T BE DONE

After a thing has been done, everybody is ready to declare it easy. But before it has been done, it is called impossible. One reason why people fear to embark upon great enterprises is that they see all the difficulties at once. They know they could succeed in the initial tasks, but they shrink from what is to follow. Yet "a thing begun is half done." Moreover the surmounting of the first barrier gives strength and ingenuity for the harder ones beyond. Mountains viewed from a distance seem to be unscalable. But they can be climbed, and the way to begin is to take the first upward step. From that moment the mountains are less high. As Hannibal led his army across the foothills, then among the upper ranges, and finally over the loftiest peaks and passes of the Alps, or as Peary pushed farther and farther into the solitudes that encompass the North Pole, so can you achieve any purpose whatsoever if you heed not the doubters, meet each problem as it arises, and keep ever with you the assurance _It Can Be Done_.

Somebody said that it couldn't be done,
But he with a chuckle replied
That "maybe it couldn't," but he would be one
Who wouldn't say so till he'd tried.
So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin
On his face. If he worried he hid it.
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn't be done, and he did it.

Somebody scoffed: "Oh, you'll never do that;
At least no one ever has done it";
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat,
And the first thing we knew he'd begun it.
With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
Without any doubting or quiddit,
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn't be done, and he did it.

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
There are thousands to prophesy failure;
There are thousands to point out to you one by one,
The dangers that wait to assail you.
But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,
Just take off your coat and go to it;
Just start to sing as you tackle the thing
That "cannot be done," and you'll do it.

_Edgar A. Guest._

From "The Path to Home."

THE WELCOME MAN

There's a man in the world who is never turned down, wherever
he chances to stray; he gets the glad hand in the populous
town, or out where the farmers make hay; he's greeted with
pleasure on deserts of sand, and deep in the aisles of the
woods; wherever he goes there's the welcoming hand--he's The
Man Who Delivers the Goods. The failures of life sit around and
complain; the gods haven't treated them white; they've lost
their umbrellas whenever there's rain, and they haven't their
lanterns at night; men tire of the failures who fill with their
sighs the air of their own neighborhoods; there's one who is
greeted with love-lighted eyes--he's The Man Who Delivers the
Goods. One fellow is lazy, and watches the clock, and waits for
the whistle to blow; and one has a hammer, with which he will
knock, and one tells a story of woe; and one, if requested to
travel a mile, will measure the perches and roods; but one does
his stunt with a whistle or smile--he's The Man Who Delivers
the Goods. One man is afraid that he'll labor too hard--the
world isn't yearning for such; and one man is always alert, on
his guard, lest he put in a minute too much; and one has a
grouch or a temper that's bad, and one is a creature of moods;
so it's hey for the joyous and rollicking lad--for the One Who
Delivers the Goods!

_Walt Mason._

From "Walt Mason, His Book."

THE QUITTER

In the famous naval duel between the _Bonhomme Richard_ and the _Serapis_, John Paul Jones was hailed by his adversary to know whether he struck his colors. "I have not yet begun to fight," was his answer. When the surrender took place, it was not Jones's ship that became the prize of war. Everybody admires a hard fighter--the man who takes buffets standing up, and in a spirit of "Never say die" is always ready for more.

When you're lost in the wild and you're scared as a child,
And death looks you bang in the eye;
And you're sore as a boil, it's according to Hoyle
To cock your revolver and die.
But the code of a man says fight all you can,
And self-dissolution is barred;
In hunger and woe, oh it's easy to blow--
It's the hell served for breakfast that's hard.

You're sick of the game? Well now, that's a shame!
You're young and you're brave and you're bright.
You've had a raw deal, I know, but don't squeal.
Buck up, do your damnedest and fight!
It's the plugging away that will win you the day,
So don't be a piker, old pard;
Just draw on your grit; it's so easy to quit--
It's the keeping your chin up that's hard.

It's easy to cry that you're beaten and die,
It's easy to crawfish and crawl,
But to fight and to fight when hope's out of sight,
Why, that's the best game of them all.
And though you come out of each grueling bout,
All broken and beaten and scarred--
Just have one more try. It's dead easy to die,
It's the keeping on living that's hard.

_Robert W. Service._

From "Rhymes of a Rolling Stone."

FRIENDS OF MINE

We like to be hospitable. To what should we be more hospitable than a glad spirit or a kind impulse?

Good-morning, Brother Sunshine,
Good-morning, Sister Song,
I beg your humble pardon
If you've waited very long.
I thought I heard you rapping,
To shut you out were sin,
My heart is standing open,
Won't you
walk
right
in?

Good-morning, Brother Gladness,
Good-morning, Sister Smile,
They told me you were coming,
So I waited on a while.
I'm lonesome here without you,
A weary while it's been,
My heart is standing open,
Won't you
walk
right
in?

Good-morning, Brother Kindness,
Good-morning, Sister Cheer,
I heard you were out calling,
So I waited for you here.
Some way, I keep forgetting
I have to toil or spin
When you are my companions,
Won't you
walk
right
in?

_James W. Foley._

From "The Voices of Song."

THE WOMAN WHO UNDERSTANDS

"Is this the little woman that made this great war?" was Lincoln's greeting to Harriet Beecher Stowe. Often a woman is responsible for events by whose crash and splendor she herself is obscured. Often too she shapes the career of husband or brother or son. A man succeeds and reaps the honors of public applause, when in truth a quiet little woman has made it all possible--has by her tact and encouragement held him to his best, has had faith in him when his own faith has languished, has cheered him with the unfailing assurance, "You can, you must, you will."

_Somewhere she waits to make you win, your soul in her firm, white hands-- Somewhere the gods have made for you, the Woman Who Understands!_

As the tide went out she found him
Lashed to a spar of Despair,
The wreck of his Ship around him--
The wreck of his Dreams in the air;
Found him and loved him and gathered
The soul of him close to her heart--
The soul that had sailed an uncharted sea,
The soul that had sought to win and be free--
The soul of which _she_ was part!
And there in the dusk she cried to the man,
"Win your battle--you can, you can!"

Broken by Fate, unrelenting,
Scarred by the lashings of Chance;
Bitter his heart--unrepenting--
Hardened by Circumstance;
Shadowed by Failure ever,
Cursing, he would have died,
But the touch of her hand, her strong warm hand,
And her love of his soul, took full command,
Just at the turn of the tide!
Standing beside him, filled with trust,
"Win!" she whispered, "you must, you must!"

Helping and loving and guiding,
Urging when that were best,
Holding her fears in hiding
Deep in her quiet breast;
This is the woman who kept him
True to his standards lost,
When, tossed in the storm and stress of strife,
He thought himself through with the game of life
And ready to pay the cost.
Watching and guarding, whispering still,
"Win you can--and you will, you will!"

This is the story of ages,
This is the Woman's way;
Wiser than seers or sages,
Lifting us day by day;
Facing all things with a courage
Nothing can daunt or dim,
Treading Life's path, wherever it leads--
Lined with flowers or choked with weeds,
But ever with him--with him!
Guidon--comrade--golden spur--
The men who win are helped by _her_!

_Somewhere she waits, strong in belief, your soul in her firm, white hands: Thank well the gods, when she comes to you--the Woman Who Understands!_

_Everard Jack Appleton._

From "The Quiet Courage."

WANTED--A MAN

Business and the world are exacting in their demands upon us. They make no concessions to half-heartedness, incompetence, or plodding mediocrity. But for the man who has proved his worth and can do the exceptional things with originality and sound judgment, they are eagerly watchful and have rich rewards.

You say big corporations scheme
To keep a fellow down;
They drive him, shame him, starve him too
If he so much as frown.
God knows I hold no brief for them;
Still, come with me to-day
And watch those fat directors meet,
For this is what they say:

"In all our force not one to take
The new work that we plan!
In all the thousand men we've hired
Where shall we find a man?"

The world is shabby in the way
It treats a fellow too;
It just endures him while he works,
And kicks him when he's through.
It's ruthless, yes; let him make good,
Or else it grabs its broom
And grumbles: "What a clutter's here!
We can't have this. Make room!"

And out he goes. It says, "Can bread
Be made from mouldy bran?
The men come swarming here in droves,
But where'll I find a man?"

Yes, life is hard. But all the same
It seeks the man who's best.
Its grudging makes the prizes big;
The obstacle's a test.
Don't ask to find the pathway smooth,
To march to fife and drum;
The plum-tree will not come to you;
Jack Horner, hunt the plum.

The eyes of life are yearning, sad,
As humankind they scan.
She says, "Oh, there are men enough,
But where'll I find a man?"

_St. Clair Adams._

IF I SHOULD DIE

A man whose word is as good as his bond is a man the world admires. It is related of Fox that a tradesman whom he long had owed money found him one day counting gold and asked for payment. Fox replied: "No; I owe this money to Sheridan. It is a debt of honor. If an accident should happen to me, he has nothing to show." The tradesman tore his note to pieces: "I change my debt into a debt of honor." Fox thanked him and handed over the money, saying that Sheridan's debt was not of so long standing and that Sheridan must wait. But most of us know men who are less scrupulous than Fox.

If I should die to-night
And you should come to my cold corpse and say,
Weeping and heartsick o'er my lifeless clay--
If I should die to-night,
And you should come in deepest grief and woe--
And say: "Here's that ten dollars that I owe,"
I might arise in my large white cravat
And say, "What's that?"

If I should die to-night
And you should come to my cold corpse and kneel,
Clasping my bier to show the grief you feel,
I say, if I should die to-night
And you should come to me, and there and then
Just even hint 'bout payin' me that ten,
I might arise the while,
But I'd drop dead again.

_Ben King._

From "Ben King's Verse."

JUST BE GLAD

Misfortunes overtake us, difficulties confront us; but these things must not induce us to give up. A Congressman who had promised Thomas B. Reed to be present at a political meeting telegraphed at the last moment: "Cannot come; washout on the line." "No need to stay away," said Reed's answering telegram; "buy another shirt."

O heart of mine, we shouldn't
Worry so!
What we've missed of calm we couldn't
Have, you know!
What we've met of stormy pain,
And of sorrow's driving rain,
We can better meet again,
If it blow!

We have erred in that dark hour
We have known,
When our tears fell with the shower,
All alone!--
Were not shine and shower blent
As the gracious Master meant?--
Let us temper our content
With His own.

For, we know, not every morrow
Can be sad;
So, forgetting all the sorrow
We have had,
Let us fold away our fears,
And put by our foolish tears,
And through all the coming years
Just be glad.

_James Whitcomb Riley._

From the Biographical Edition Of the Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley.

OPPORTUNITY

"I lack only one of having a hundred," said a student after an examination; "I have the two naughts." And all he did lack was a one, _rightly placed_. The world is full of opportunities. Discernment to perceive, courage to undertake, patience to carry through, will change the whole aspect of the universe for us and bring positive achievement out of meaningless negation.

With doubt and dismay you are smitten
You think there's no chance for you, son?
Why, the best books haven't been written
The best race hasn't been run,
The best score hasn't been made yet,
The best song hasn't been sung,
The best tune hasn't been played yet,
Cheer up, for the world is young!

No chance? Why the world is just eager
For things that you ought to create
Its store of true wealth is still meagre
Its needs are incessant and great,
It yearns for more power and beauty
More laughter and love and romance,
More loyalty, labor and duty,
No chance--why there's nothing but chance!

For the best verse hasn't been rhymed yet,
The best house hasn't been planned,
The highest peak hasn't been climbed yet,
The mightiest rivers aren't spanned,
Don't worry and fret, faint hearted,
The chances have just begun,
For the Best jobs haven't been started,
The Best work hasn't been done.

_Berton Braley._

From "A Banjo at Armageddon."

SOLITUDE

Said an Irishman who had several times been kicked downstairs: "I begin to think they don't want me around here." So it is with our sorrows, our struggles. Life decrees that they belong to us individually. If we try to make others share them, we are shunned. But struggling and weary humanity is glad enough to share our joys.

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone;
For the sad old earth
Must borrow its mirth,
It has trouble enough of its own.

Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air;
The echoes bound
To a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go;
They want full measure
Of all your pleasure,
But they do not want your woe.

Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all;
There are none to decline
Your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by;
Succeed and give,
And it helps you live,
But it cannot help you die.

There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train;
But one by one
We must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.

_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._

From "How Salvator Won."

UNSUBDUED

"An artist's career," said Whistler, "always begins to-morrow." So does the career of any man of courage and imagination. The Eden of such a man does not lie in yesterday. If he has done well, he forgets his achievements and dreams of the big deeds ahead. If he has been thwarted, he forgets his failures and looks forward to vast, sure successes. If fate itself opposes him, he defies it. Farragut's fleet was forcing an entrance into Mobile Bay. One of the vessels struck something, a terrific explosion followed, the vessel went down. "Torpedoes, sir." They scanned the face of the commander-in-chief. But Farragut did not hesitate. "Damn the torpedoes," said he. "Go ahead."

I have hoped, I have planned, I have striven,
To the will I have added the deed;
The best that was in me I've given,
I have prayed, but the gods would not heed.

I have dared and reached only disaster,
I have battled and broken my lance;
I am bruised by a pitiless master
That the weak and the timid call Chance.

I am old, I am bent, I am cheated
Of all that Youth urged me to win;
But name me not with the defeated,
To-morrow again, I begin.

_S.E. Kiser._

From "Poems That Have Helped Me."

WORK

"A SONG OF TRIUMPH"

When Captain John Smith was made the leader of the colonists at Jamestown, Va., he discouraged the get-rich-quick seekers of gold by announcing flatly, "He who will not work shall not eat." This rule made of Jamestown the first permanent English settlement in the New World. But work does more than lead to material success. It gives an outlet from sorrow, restrains wild desires, ripens and refines character, enables human beings to cooperate with God, and when well done, brings to life its consummate satisfaction. Every man is a Prince of Possibilities, but by work alone can he come into his Kingship.

Work!
Thank God for the might of it,
The ardor, the urge, the delight of it--
Work that springs from the heart's desire,
Setting the brain and the soul on fire--
Oh, what is so good as the heat of it,
And what is so glad as the beat of it,
And what is so kind as the stern command,
Challenging brain and heart and hand?

Work!
Thank God for the pride of it,
For the beautiful, conquering tide of it.
Sweeping the life in its furious flood,
Thrilling the arteries, cleansing the blood,
Mastering stupor and dull despair,
Moving the dreamer to do and dare.
Oh, what is so good as the urge of it,
And what is so glad as the surge of it,
And what is so strong as the summons deep,
Rousing the torpid soul from sleep?

Work!
Thank God for the pace of it,
For the terrible, keen, swift race of it;
Fiery steeds in full control,
Nostrils a-quiver to greet the goal.
Work, the Power that drives behind,
Guiding the purposes, taming the mind,
Holding the runaway wishes back,
Reining the will to one steady track,
Speeding the energies faster, faster,
Triumphing over disaster.
Oh, what is so good as the pain of it,
And what is so great as the gain of it?
And what is so kind as the cruel goad,
Forcing us on through the rugged road?

Work!
Thank God for the swing of it,
For the clamoring, hammering ring of it,
Passion and labor daily hurled
On the mighty anvils of the world.
Oh, what is so fierce as the flame of it?
And what is so huge as the aim of it?
Thundering on through dearth and doubt,
Calling the plan of the Maker out.
Work, the Titan; Work, the friend,
Shaping the earth to a glorious end,
Draining the swamps and blasting the hills,
Doing whatever the Spirit wills--
Rending a continent apart,
To answer the dream of the Master heart.
Thank God for a world where none may shirk--
Thank God for the splendor of work!

_Angela Morgan._

From "The Hour Has Struck."

HOW DID YOU DIE?

Grant at Ft. Donelson demanded unconditional and immediate surrender. At Appomattox he offered as lenient terms as victor ever extended to vanquished. Why the difference? The one event was at the beginning of the war, when the enemy's morale must be shaken. The other was at the end of the conflict, when a brave and noble adversary had been rendered helpless. In his quiet way Grant showed himself one of nature's gentlemen. He also taught a great lesson. No honor can be too great for the man, be he even our foe, who has steadily and uncomplainingly done his very best--and has failed.

Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it,
And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it?

You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that!
Come up with a smiling face.
It's nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there--that's disgrace.
The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce
Be proud of your blackened eye!
It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts;
It's how did you fight--and why?

And though you be done to the death, what then?
If you battled the best you could,
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the Critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he's slow or spry,
It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts,
But only how did you die?

_Edmund Vance Cooke._

From "Impertinent Poems."

A LESSON FROM HISTORY

To break the ice of an undertaking is difficult. To cross on broken ice, as Eliza did to freedom, or to row amid floating ice, as Washington did to victory, is harder still. This poem applies especially to those who are discouraged in a struggle to which they are already committed.

Everything's easy after it's done;
Every battle's a "cinch" that's won;
Every problem is clear that's solved--
The earth was round when it _revolved!_
But Washington stood amid grave doubt
With enemy forces camped about;
He could not know how he would fare
Till _after_ he'd crossed the Delaware.

Though the river was full of ice
He did not think about it twice,
But started across in the dead of night,
The enemy waiting to open the fight.
Likely feeling pretty blue,
Being human, same as you,
But he was brave amid despair,
And Washington crossed the Delaware!

So when you're with trouble beset,
And your spirits are soaking wet,
When all the sky with clouds is black,
Don't lie down upon your back
And look at _them_. Just do the thing;
Though you are choked, still try to sing.
If times are dark, believe them fair,
And you will cross the Delaware!

_Joseph Morris._

RABBI BEN EZRA

(SELECTED VERSES)

To some people success is everything, and the easier it is gained the better. To Browning success is nothing unless it is won by painful effort. What Browning values is struggle. Throes, rebuffs, even failure to achieve what we wish, are to be welcomed, for the effects of vigorous endeavor inweave themselves into our characters; moreover through struggle we lift ourselves from the degradation into which the indolent fall. In the intervals of strife we may look back dispassionately upon what we have gone through, see where we erred and where we did wisely, watch the workings of universal laws, and resolve to apply hereafter what we have hitherto learned.

Then, welcome each rebuff
That turns earth's smoothness rough,
Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand but go!
Be our joys three-parts pain!
Strive, and hold cheap the strain;
Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the throe!

For thence,--a paradox
Which comforts while it mocks,--
Shall life succeed in that it seems to fail:
What I aspired to be,
And was not, comforts me:
A brute I might have been, but would not sink i' the scale.

So, still within this life,
Though lifted o'er its strife,
Let me discern, compare, pronounce at last,
"This rage was right i' the main,
That acquiescence vain:
The Future I may face now I have proved the Past."

For more is not reserved
To man, with soul just nerved
To act to-morrow what he learns to-day:
Here, work enough to watch
The Master work, and catch
Hints of the proper craft, tricks of the tool's true play.

_Robert Browning._

TO MELANCHOLY

The last invitation anybody would accept is "Come, let us weep together." If we keep melancholy at our house, we should be careful to have it under lock and key, so that no one will observe it.

Melancholy,
Melancholy,
I've no use for you, by Golly!
Yet I'm going to keep you hidden
In some chamber dark, forbidden,
Just as though you were a prize, sir,
Made of gold, and I a miser--
Not because I think you jolly,
Melancholy!
Not for that I mean to hoard you,
Keep you close and lodge and board you
As I would my sisters, brothers,
Cousins, aunts, and old grandmothers,
But that you shan't bother others
With your sniffling, snuffling folly,
Howling,
Yowling,
Melancholy.

_John Kendrick Bangs._

From "Songs of Cheer."

THE LION PATH

Admiral Dupont was explaining to Farragut his reasons for not taking his ironclads into Charleston harbor. "You haven't given me the main reason yet," said Farragut. "What's that?" "You didn't think you could do it." So the man who thinks he can't pass a lion, can't. But the man who thinks he can, can. Indeed he oftentimes finds that the lion isn't really there at all.

I dare not!--
Look! the road is very dark--
The trees stir softly and the bushes shake,
The long grass rustles, and the darkness moves
Here! there! beyond--!
There's something crept across the road just now!
And you would have me go--?
Go _there_, through that live darkness, hideous
With stir of crouching forms that wait to kill?
Ah, _look_! See there! and there! and there again!
Great yellow, glassy eyes, close to the ground!
Look! Now the clouds are lighter I can see
The long slow lashing of the sinewy tails,
And the set quiver of strong jaws that wait--!
Go there? Not I! Who dares to go who sees
So perfectly the lions in the path?

Comes one who dares.
Afraid at first, yet bound
On such high errand as no fear could stay.
Forth goes he, with lions in his path.
And then--?
He dared a death of agony--
Outnumbered battle with the king of beasts--
Long struggles in the horror of the night--
Dared, and went forth to meet--O ye who fear!
Finding an empty road, and nothing there--
And fences, and the dusty roadside trees--
Some spitting kittens, maybe, in the grass.

_Charlotte Perkins Gilman._

From "In This Our World."

THE ANSWER

Bob Fitzsimmons lacked the physical bulk of the men he fought, was ungainly in build and movement, and not infrequently got himself floored in the early rounds of his contests. But many people consider him the best fighter for his weight who ever stepped into the prize ring. Not a favorite at first, he won the popular heart by making good. Of course he had great natural powers; from any position when the chance at last came he could dart forth a sudden, wicked blow that no human being could withstand. But more formidable still was the spirit which gave him cool and complete command of all his resources, and made him most dangerous when he was on the verge of being knocked out.

When the battle breaks against you and the crowd forgets to cheer
When the Anvil Chorus echoes with the essence of a jeer;
When the knockers start their panning in the knocker's nimble way
With a rap for all your errors and a josh upon your play--
There is one quick answer ready that will nail them on the wing;
There is one reply forthcoming that will wipe away the sting;
There is one elastic come-back that will hold them, as it should--
Make good.

No matter where you finish in the mix-up or the row,
There are those among the rabble who will pan you anyhow;
But the entry who is sticking and delivering the stuff
Can listen to the yapping as he giggles up his cuff;
The loafer has no come-back and the quitter no reply
When the Anvil Chorus echoes, as it will, against the sky;
But there's one quick answer ready that will wrap them in a hood--
Make good.

_Grantland Rice._

From "The Sportlight."

THE WORLD IS AGAINST ME

Babe Ruth doesn't complain that opposing pitchers try to strike him out; he swings at the ball till he swats it for four bases. Ty Cobb doesn't complain that whole teams work wits and muscles overtime to keep him from stealing home; he pits himself against them all and comes galloping or hurdling or sliding in. What other men can do any man can do if he works long enough with a brave enough heart.

"The world is against me," he said with a sigh.
"Somebody stops every scheme that I try.
The world has me down and it's keeping me there;
I don't get a chance. Oh, the world is unfair!
When a fellow is poor then he can't get a show;
The world is determined to keep him down low."

"What of Abe Lincoln?" I asked. "Would you say
That he was much richer than you are to-day?
He hadn't your chance of making his mark,
And his outlook was often exceedingly dark;
Yet he clung to his purpose with courage most grim
And he got to the top. Was the world against him?

"What of Ben Franklin? I've oft heard it said
That many a time he went hungry to bed.
He started with nothing but courage to climb,
But patiently struggled and waited his time.
He dangled awhile from real poverty's limb,
Yet he got to the top. Was the world against him?

"I could name you a dozen, yes, hundreds, I guess,
Of poor boys who've patiently climbed to success;
All boys who were down and who struggled alone,
Who'd have thought themselves rich if your fortune they'd known;
Yet they rose in the world you're so quick to condemn,
And I'm asking you now, was the world against them?"

_Edgar A. Guest._

From "Just Folks."

SAY NOT THE STRUGGLE NOUGHT AVAILETH

In any large or prolonged enterprise we are likely to take too limited a view of the progress we are making. The obstacles do not yield at some given point; we therefore imagine we have made no headway. The poet here uses three comparisons to show the folly of accepting this hasty and partial evidence. A soldier may think, from the little part of the battle he can see, that the day is going against him; but by holding his ground stoutly he may help his comrades in another quarter to win the victory. Successive waves may seem to rise no higher on the land, but far back in swollen creek and inlet is proof that the tide is coming in. As we look toward the east, we are discouraged at the slowness of daybreak; but by looking westward we see the whole landscape illumined.

Say not the struggle nought availeth,
The labor and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,
And as things have been they remain.

If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;
It may be, in yon smoke conceal'd,
Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers,
And, but for you, possess the field.

For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,
Seem here no painful inch to gain,
Far back, through creeks and inlets making,
Comes silent, flooding in, the main.

And not by eastern windows only,
When daylight comes, comes in the light,
In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly,
But westward, look, the land is bright.

_Arthur Hugh Clough._

WORTH WHILE

A little boy whom his mother had rebuked for not turning a deaf ear to temptation protested, with tears, that he had no deaf ear. But temptation, even when heard, must somehow be resisted. Yea, especially when heard! We deserve no credit for resisting it unless it comes to our ears like the voice of the siren.

It is easy enough to be pleasant,
When life flows by like a song,
But the man worth while is one who will smile,
When everything goes dead wrong.
For the test of the heart is trouble,
And it always comes with the years,
And the smile that is worth the praises of earth,
Is the smile that shines through tears.

It is easy enough to be prudent,
When nothing tempts you to stray,
When without or within no voice of sin
Is luring your soul away;
But it's only a negative virtue
Until it is tried by fire,
And the life that is worth the honor on earth,
Is the one that resists desire.

By the cynic, the sad, the fallen,
Who had no strength for the strife,
The world's highway is cumbered to-day,
They make up the sum of life.
But the virtue that conquers passion,
And the sorrow that hides in a smile,
It is these that are worth the homage on earth
For we find them but once in a while.

_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._

From "Poems of Sentiment."

HOPE

Gloom and despair are really ignorance in another form. They fail to reckon with the fact that what appears to be baneful often turns out to be good. Lincoln lost the senatorship to Douglas and thought he had ended his career; had he won the contest, he might have remained only a senator. Life often has surprise parties for us. Things come to us masked in gloom and black; but Time, the revealer, strips off the disguise, and lo, what we have is blessings.

Never go gloomy, man with a mind,
Hope is a better companion than fear;
Providence, ever benignant and kind,
Gives with a smile what you take with a tear;
All will be right,
Look to the light.
Morning was ever the daughter of night;
All that was black will be all that is bright,
Cheerily, cheerily, then cheer up.

Many a foe is a friend in disguise,
Many a trouble a blessing most true,
Helping the heart to be happy and wise,
With love ever precious and joys ever new.
Stand in the van,
Strike like a man!
This is the bravest and cleverest plan;
Trusting in God while you do what you can.
Cheerily, cheerily, then cheer up.

_Anonymous._

I'M GLAD

I'm glad the sky is painted blue;
And the earth is painted green;
And such a lot of nice fresh air
All sandwiched in between.

_Anonymous._

THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS

The nautilus is a small mollusk that creeps upon the bottom of the sea, though it used to be supposed to swim, or even to spread a kind of sail so that the wind might drive it along the surface. What interests us in this poem is the way the nautilus _grows_. Just as a tree when sawed down has the record of its age in the number of its rings, so does the nautilus measure its age by the ever-widening compartments of its shell. These it has successively occupied. The poet, looking upon the now empty shell, thinks of human life as growing in the same way. We advance from one state of being to another, each nobler than the one which preceded it, until the spirit leaves its shell altogether and attains a glorious and perfect freedom.

This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign,
Sailed the unshadowed main,--
The venturous bark that flings
On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings
In gulfs enchanted, where the Siren sings,
And coral reefs lie bare,
Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair.

Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl;
Wrecked is the ship of pearl!
And every chambered cell,
Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell,
As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell,
Before thee lies revealed,--
Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed!