It Can Be Done Part 9

Great "Might Have Been," I drink to you Upon a throne where thousands hail-- And then--there looms another view-- I also "might have been" in jail.

O "Land of Might Have Been," we turn With aching hearts to where you wait; Where crimson fires of glory burn, And laurel crowns the guarding gate; We may not see across your fields The sightless skulls that knew their woe-- The broken spears--the shattered s.h.i.+elds-- That "might have been" as truly so.

"Of all sad words of tongue or pen"-- So wails the poet in his pain-- The saddest are, "It might have been,"

And world-wide runs the dull refrain.

The saddest? Yes--but in the jar This thought brings to me with its curse, I sometimes think the gladdest are "It might have been a blamed sight worse."

_Grantland Rice._

From "The Sportlight."

THE ONE

In our youth we picture ourselves as we will be in the future--not mere types of this or that kind of success, but above all and in all, Ideal Men. Then come the years and the struggles, and we are buffeted and baffled, and our very ideal is eclipsed. But others have done better than we. Weary and hara.s.sed, they yet embody our visions. And we, if we are worth our salt, do not envy them when we see them. Nor should we grow dispirited. Rather should we rejoice in their triumph, rejoice that our dreams were not impossibilities, take courage to strive afresh for that which we know is best.

I knew his face the moment that he pa.s.sed Triumphant in the thoughtless, cruel throng,-- Triumphant, though the quiet, tired eyes Showed that his soul had suffered overlong.

And though across his brow faint lines of care Were etched, somewhat of Youth still lingered there.

I gently touched his arm--he smiled at me-- He was the Man that Once I Meant to Be!

Where I had failed, he'd won from life, Success; Where I had stumbled, with sure feet he stood; Alike--yet unalike--we faced the world, And through the stress he found that life was good And I? The bitter wormwood in the gla.s.s, The shadowed way along which failures pa.s.s!

Yet as I saw him thus, joy came to me-- He was the Man that Once I Meant to Be!

I knew him! And I knew he knew me for The man HE might have been. Then did his soul Thank silently the G.o.ds that gave him strength To win, while I so sorely missed the goal?

He turned, and quickly in his own firm hand He took my own--the gulf of Failure spanned, ...

And that was all--strong, self-reliant, free, He was the Man that Once I Meant to Be!

We did not speak. But in his sapient eyes I saw the spirit that had urged him on, The courage that had held him through the fight Had once been mine, I thought, "Can it be gone?"

He felt that unasked question--felt it so His pale lips formed the one-word answer, "No!"

Too late to win? No! Not too late for me-- He is the Man that Still I Mean to Be!

_Everard Jack Appleton._

From "The Quiet Courage."

THE JOY OF LIVING

Men too often act as if life were nothing more than hards.h.i.+ps to be endured and difficulties to be overcome. They look upon what is happy or inspiring with eyes that really fail to see. As Wordsworth says of Peter Bell,

"A primrose by the river's brim A yellow primrose was to him, And it was nothing more."

But to stop now and then and realize that the world is fresh and buoyant and happy, will do much to keep the spirit young. We should be glad that we are alive, should tell ourselves often in the words of Charles Lamb: "I am in love with this green earth."

The south wind is driving His splendid cloud-horses Through vast fields of blue.

The bare woods are singing, The brooks in their courses Are bubbling and springing And dancing and leaping, The violets peeping.

I'm glad to be living: Aren't you?

_Gamaliel Bradford._

THERE WILL ALWAYS BE SOMETHING TO DO

An old lady, famous for her ability to find in other people traits that she could commend, was challenged to say a good word for the devil.

After a moment's hesitation she answered, "You must at least give him credit for being industrious." Perhaps it is this superactivity of Satan that causes beings less wickedly inclined to have such scope for the exercise of their qualities. Certain it is that n.o.body need hang back from want of something to do, to promote, to a.s.sail, to protect, to endure, or to sympathize with.

There will always be something to do, my boy; There will always be wrongs to right; There will always be need for a manly breed And men unafraid to fight.

There will always be honor to guard, my boy; There will always be hills to climb, And tasks to do, and battles new From now till the end of time.

There will always be dangers to face, my boy; There will always be goals to take; Men shall be tried, when the roads divide, And proved by the choice they make.

There will always be burdens to bear, my boy; There will always be need to pray; There will always be tears through the future years, As loved ones are borne away.

There will always be G.o.d to serve, my boy, And always the Flag above; They shall call to you until life is through For courage and strength and love.

So these are things that I dream, my boy, And have dreamed since your life began: That whatever befalls, when the old world calls, It shall find you a st.u.r.dy man.

_Edgar A. Guest._

From "The Path to Home."

GOOD INTENTIONS

Thinking you would like a square meal will not in itself earn you one.

Thinking you would like a strong body will not without effort on your part make you an athlete. Thinking you would like to be kind or successful will not bring you gentleness or achievement if you stop with mere thinking. The arrows of intention must have the bow of strong purpose to impel them.

The road to h.e.l.l, they a.s.sure me, With good intentions is paved; And I know my desires are n.o.ble, But my deeds might brand me depraved.