It Can Be Done Part 50

I

O well for him whose will is strong!

He suffers, but he will not suffer long; He suffers, but he cannot suffer wrong.

For him nor moves the loud world's random mock; Nor all Calamity's hugest waves confound, Who seems a promontory of rock, That, compa.s.s'd round with turbulent sound, In middle ocean meets the surging shock, Tempest-buffeted, citadel-crown'd.

II

But ill for him who, bettering not with time, Corrupts the strength of heaven-descended Will, And ever weaker grows thro' acted crime, Or seeming-genial venial fault, Recurring and suggesting still!

He seems as one whose footsteps halt, Toiling in immeasurable sand, And o'er a weary sultry land, Far beneath a blazing vault, Sown in a wrinkle of the monstrous hill The city sparkles like a grain of salt.

_Alfred Tennyson._

[Ill.u.s.tration: EVERARD JACK APPLETON]

FABLE

To be impressed by a thing merely because it is big is a human failing.

Yet our standard of judgment would be truer if we considered, instead, the success of that thing in performing its own particular task. And quality is better than quant.i.ty. The lioness in the old fable was being taunted because she bore only one offspring at a time, not a numerous litter. "It is true," she admitted; "but that one is a lion."

The mountain and the squirrel Had a quarrel, And the former called the latter "Little Prig"; Bun replied, "You are doubtless very big; But all sorts of things and weather Must be taken in together, To make up a year And a sphere.

And I think it no disgrace To occupy my place.

If I'm not so large as you, You are not so small as I, And not half so spry.

I'll not deny you make A very pretty squirrel track; Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; If I cannot carry forests on my back, Neither can you crack a nut."

_Ralph Waldo Emerson._

DUTY

When Duty comes a-knocking at your gate, Welcome him in, for if you bid him wait, He will depart only to come once more And bring seven other duties to your door.

_Edwin Markham._

From "The Gates of Paradise, and Other Poems."

PRAYER FOR PAIN

"The thief steals from himself. The swindler swindles himself," says Emerson. Apparent gain may be actual loss; material escape may be spiritual imprisonment. Any one may idle; but the men who are not content unless they climb the unscalable mountains or cross the uncharted seas or bear the burdens that others shrink from, are the ones who keep the heritage of the spirit undiminished.

I do not pray for peace nor ease, Nor truce from sorrow: No suppliant on servile knees Begs here against to-morrow!

Lean flame against lean flame we flash, O, Fates that meet me fair; Blue steel against blue steel we clash-- Lay on, and I shall dare!

But Thou of deeps the awful Deep, Thou Breather in the clay, Grant this my only prayer--Oh keep My soul from turning gray!

For until now, whatever wrought Against my sweet desires, My days were smitten harps strung taut, My nights were slumbrous lyres.

And howsoe'er the hard blow rang Upon my battered s.h.i.+eld, Some lark-like, soaring spirit sang Above my battlefield.

And through my soul of stormy night The zigzag blue flame ran.

I asked no odds--I fought my fight-- Events against a man.

But now--at last--the gray mist chokes And numbs me. _Leave me pain!

Oh let me feel the biting strokes That I may fight again!_

_John G. Neihardt._

From "The Quest" (collected lyrics).

STEADFAST

No one ever has a trouble so great that some other person has not a greater. The thought of the heroism shown by those more grievously afflicted than we, helps us to bear our own ills patiently.

If I can help another bear an ill By bearing mine with somewhat of good grace-- Can take Fate's thrusts with not too long a face And help him through his trials, then I WILL!

For do not braver men than I decline To bow to troubles graver, far, than mine?

Pain twists this body? Yes, but it shall not Distort my soul, by all the G.o.ds that be!

And when it's done its worst, Pain's victory Shall be an empty one! Whate'er my lot, My banner, ragged, but nailed to the mast, Shall fly triumphant to the very last!

Others so much worse off than I have fought; Have smiled--have met defeat with unbent head They shame me into following where they led.

Can I ignore the lesson they have taught?