Motivational Poems Page 10 |
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Failure
Poet: Edgar Guest Failure is ceasing to try! "Tis accepting defeat And to all you may meet Giving voice to a sigh; "Tis in thinking it vain To attempt furthermore And in bowing to pain When the muscles grow sore. Failure is stepping aside From the burnt of the fray In a weak-hearted way, Being content to abide In the shadows that fall, And in being afraid Out of life, after all, Nothing's left to be made. Failure is thinking despair, The forsaking of hope, And refusal to cope With the day's round of care, It's in heeding the cry, "All is lost!" and to stay With defeat and not try For the happier day. Keep-A-Trying Poet: Nixon Waterman Say "I will!" and then stick to it-- That's the only way to do it. Don't build up a while and then Tear the whole thing down again. Fix the goal you wish to gain, Then go at it heart and brain, And, though clouds shut out the blue, Do not dim your purpose true With your sighing. Stand erect, and, like a man, Know "They can who think they can!" Keep a-trying. Had Columbus, half seas o'er, Turned back to his native shore, Men would not, to-day, proclaim Round the world his deathless name. So must we sail on with him Past horizons far and dim, Till at last we own the prize That belongs to him who tries With faith undying; Own the prize that all may win Who, with hope, through thick and thin Keep a-trying. It Isn't Costly Poet: Edgar Guest Does the grouch get richer quicker than the friendly sort of man? Can the grumbler labor better than the cheerful fellow can? Is the mean and churlish neighbor any cleverer than the one Who shouts a glad "good morning," and then smiling passes on? Just stop and think about it. Have you ever known or seen A mean man who succeeded, just because he was so mean? When you find a grouch with honors and with money in his pouch, You can bet he didn't win them just because he was a grouch. Oh, you'll not be any poorer if you smile along your way, And your lot will not be harder for the kindly things you say. Don't imagine you are wasting time for others that you spend: You can rise to wealth and glory and still pause to be a friend. What Counts Poet: Edgar A Guest It isn't the money you're making, it isn't the clothes you wear, And it isn't the skill of your good right hand which makes folks really care. It's the smile on your face and the light of your eye and the burdens that you bear. Most any old man can tell you, most any old man at all, Who has lived through all sorts of weather, winter and summer and fall, That riches and fame are shadows that dance on the garden wall. It's how do you live and neighbor, how do you work and play, It's how do you say "good morning" to the people along the way, And it's how do you face your troubles whenever your skies are gray. It's you, from the dawn to nighttime; you when the day is fair, You when the storm is raging - how do you face despair? It is you that the world discovers, whatever the clothes you wear. You to the end of the journey, kindly and brave and true, The best and the worst of you gleaming in all that you say and do, And the ting that counts isn't money, or glory, or power, but YOU! Myself Poet: Edgar A. Guest I have to live with myself and so I want to be fit for myself to know. I want to be able as days go by, always to look myself straight in the eye; I don't want to stand with the setting sun and hate myself for the things I have done. I don't want to keep on a closet shelf a lot of secrets about myself and fool myself as I come and go into thinking no one else will ever know the kind of person I really am, I don't want to dress up myself in sham. I want to go out with my head erect I want to deserve all men's respect; but here in the struggle for fame and wealth I want to be able to like myself. I don't want to look at myself and know that I am bluster and bluff and empty show. I never can hide myself from me; I see what others may never see; I know what others may never know, I never can fool myself and so, whatever happens I want to be self respecting and conscience free. |
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