FAVORITE POEMS

It Couldn't Be Done by Edgar Guest
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.

Compilation of 3 anonymous poems about life that I 
Put together (Brian K. Rice)
Life is an opportunity, benefit from it.
Life is a dream, realize it.
Life is a duty, complete it.
Life is a game, play it.
Life is sorrow, overcome it.
Life is a challenge, accept it.
Life is an adventure, dare it.
Life is a puzzle, solve it.
Life is a question, answer it.
Life is a road, take it.
Life is a diary, fill it.
Life is a wish-go get it,
Life is too precious, so do not destroy it.
Life is life, fight for it.


Psalm 133
Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to 
dwell together in unity!
It is like the precious ointment upon the head,
that ran down upon the beard, even Aaron's beard:
that went down to the skirts of his garments;
As the dew of Hermon, and as the dew that descended 
upon the mountains of Zion;
for there the Lord commanded the blessing, even life for 
evermore.


Live Your Creed
Written by Langston Hughes
I'd rather see a sermon than to hear one any day.
I'd rather one walk with me than just to show the way.
The eye is a better pupil and more willing than the ear.
Advice may be misleading but examples are always clear.
And the very best of teachers are the ones who live their 
creed,
For to see good put into action is what everybody needs.
I can soon learn to do it if you let me see it done.
I can watch your hand in motion but your tongue too fast 
may run
And the lectures you deliver may be very fine and true
But I'd rather get my lesson by observing what you do.
For I may misunderstand you and the fine advice you give
But there's no misunderstanding how you act and how 
you live.


If by Rudyard Kipling
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 (you) stoop (down) and build 'em up with wornout 
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 breath 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!


THE BRIDGE BUILDER
An old man, going a lone highway,
Came at the evening cold and gray,
To a chasm, vast and deep and wide,
Through which was flowing a sullen tide.
The old man crossed in the twilight dim-
That sullen stream had no fears for him;
But he turned, when he reached the other side,
And built a bridge to span the tide.

"Old man," said a fellow pilgrim near,
"You are wasting strength in building here.
Your journey will end with the ending day;
You never again must pass this way.
You have crossed the chasm, deep and wide,
Why build you the bridge at the eventide?"

The builder lifted his old gray head.
"Good friend, in the path I have come," he said,
"There followeth after me today
A youth whose feet must pass this way.
This chasm that has been naught to me
To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be.
He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;
Good friend, I am building the bridge for him."
-WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE


A NEW DAY Dr. Heartsill Wilson
This is the beginning of a new day.
God has given me this day to use as I will.
I can waste it,
Or use it for good.
What I do today is important,
Because I am exchanging a day of my life for it.
When tomorrow comes,
This day will be gone forever,
Leaving in its place
Something I have traded for it.
I want it to be gain not loss;
good not evil;
SUCCESS not failure;
In order that I shall not regret the price
I paid for it,


“The Champion”
He was a man of flesh and blood;
he wasn’t made of rock;
Angel, Devil, child, a man of ordinary stock.
But somehow he was different –
true athletes always are;
For though he cursed, and bled, and sweat -
He prided in the scar.
He was told to win like a man,
no matter what the cost;
So many times he ventured forth….
so many times he lost.
And when he turned around I said,
“It’s okay son, you tried,”
He clenched his headgear in his fist,
and like a man he cried.
But from his tears came anger,
then when it ceased to spin,
He rose again,
determined that the next time he would win.
His trembling body strengthened;
His heart soared in the sky,
And his darkened soul stood flaming
with the fire in his eye.
And so he worked relentlessly,
he struggled and he strained;
His conscience whipped him mercilessly
for every ounce he gained.
He ran on legs like pistons,
his muscled arms grew sore;
He’d tell himself, “I have to win”
then ask himself, “What for?”
And then, at last the reckoning -
the final hour was here;
His stomach lightened dangerously,
his muscles tensed with fear.
Weak-kneed, he shook the challenger’s hand and then, 
like one possessed
His instincts gave him power,
and his body did the rest.
It suddenly was ended.
His body seemed to scatter.
A crowd was cheering somewhere,
but to him it didn’t matter.
One thought was gleaming in his brain,
a thought that made him smile,
He’d given all he had –
and that made it all worthwhile.
He stood and faced his teammates -
with pride instead of shame;
He knew not if he’d won or lost,
but that he played the game.
And some call him a wrestler,
and some call him a man,
But he called himself a winner -
And the ref held up his hand.


We Wear the Mask by Paul Laurence Dunbar, 1896
WE wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!



Myself by 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.
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.