It Can Be Done - Poems of Inspiration | Page 5

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."
[Illustration: ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE]
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