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Keep A-Goin’!
If you strike a thorn or rose, Keep a-goin’! If it hails or if it snows, Keep a-goin’! ‘Taint no use to sit and whine When the fish ain’t on your line; Bait your hook an’ keep a-tryin’ - Keep a-goin’! When the weather kills your crop, Keep a-goin’! Though it’s work to reach the top, Keep a-goin’! S’pose you’re out o’ ev’ry dime, Gittin’ broke ain’t any crime; Tell the world you’re feelin’ prime - Keep a-goin’! When it looks like all is up, Keep a-goin’! Drain the sweetness from the cup, Keep a-goin’! See the wild birds on the wing, Hear the bells that sweetly ring, When you feel like sighin’, sing - Keep a-goin’! By Frank Lebby Stanton: as published in L. L. Perry, Wightman F. Melton, and M. D. Collins, editors: “Frank Lebby Stanton: Georgia’s First Poet Laureate” (1938), page 6; the original version of the poem incorporated Southern United States dialect of the time, with ‘ef’ for ‘if’ in the first and third lines Frank Lebby Stanton was born on 22 February 1857 in Charleston, South Carolina, United States of America. He became a poet, a lyricist, a newspaper editor, and a columnist under the heading “News from Billville” which later became “Up from Georgia.” Frank Lebby Stanton passed on at 69 years of age on 7 January 1927 in Atlanta, Georgia, United States of America. Courage
Courage isn’t a brilliant dash, A daring deed in a moment’s flash; It isn’t an instantaneous thing Born of despair with a sudden spring It isn’t a creature of flickered hope Or the final tug at a slipping rope; But it’s something deep in the soul of man That is working always to serve some plan. Courage isn’t the last resort In the work of life or the game of sport; It isn’t a thing that a man can call At some future time when he’s apt to fall; If he hasn’t it now, he will have it not When the strain is great and the pace is hot. For who would strive for a distant goal Must always have courage within his soul. Courage isn’t a dazzling light That flashes and passes away from sight; It’s a slow, unwavering, ingrained trait With the patience to work and the strength to wait. It’s part of a man when his skies are blue, It’s part of him when he has work to do. The brave man never is freed of it. He has it when there is no need of it. Courage was never designed for show; It isn’t a thing that can come and go; It’s written in victory and defeat And every trial a man may meet. It’s part of his hours, his days and his years, Back of his smiles and behind his tears. Courage is more than a daring deed: It’s the breath of life and a strong man’s creed. By Edgar A. Guest Edgar Albert ‘Eddie’ Guest was born on 20 August 1881 in Birmingham, England. He immigrated with his family to the United States of America in 1891. From his first published work in the “Detroit Free Press” until his passing in 1959, he penned some 11,000 poems that were syndicated in 300 newspapers and collected into more than twenty books. Mr. Guest is reputed to have had a new poem published in a newspaper every day for more than thirty years. He became known as ‘The People’s Poet,’ writing poems that were of a sentimental and optimistic nature. Edgar Albert ‘Eddie’ Guest passed on at 77 years of age on 5 August 1959 in Detroit, Michigan, United States of America. I Will Be Worthy Of It
I may not reach the heights I seek, My untried strength may fail me; Or, half-way up the mountain peak, Fierce tempests may assail me. But though that place I never gain, Herein lies comfort for my pain - I will be worthy of it. I may not triumph in success, Despite my earnest labor; I may not grasp results that bless The efforts of my neighbor; But though my goal I never see This thought shall always dwell with me - I will be worthy of it. The golden glory of Love’s light May never fall on my way; My path may always lead through night, Like some deserted by-way; But though life’s dearest joy I miss There lies a nameless strength in this - I will be worthy of it. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox Ella Wheeler Wilcox was born on 5 November 1850 in Johnstown, Rock County, Wisconsin, United States of America. She became a poet, a writer, and a journalist. Ella Wheeler Wilcox passed on at 68 years of age on 30 October 1919 in Short Beach, New Haven County, Connecticut, United States of America. Perseverance
We must not hope to be mowers, And to gather the ripe gold ears, Unless we have first been sowers And watered the furrows with tears. It is not just as we take it, This mystical world of ours, Life’s field will yield as we make it A harvest of thorns or of flowers. By Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Johann Wolfgang von Goethe was born on 28 August 1749 in Frankfurt am Main, Frankfurter Stadtkreis, Hessen, Germany. He became a scientist, a poet, a novelist, a dramatist (playwright), a natural philosopher, and a diplomat. His body of work includes epic and lyric poetry written in a variety of meters and styles; prose and verse dramas; memoirs; an autobiography; literary and aesthetic criticism; treatises on botany, anatomy, and color; and four novels. In addition, numerous literary and scientific fragments, more than 10,000 letters, and nearly 3,000 drawings by him are extant. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe passed on at 82 years of age on 22 March 1832 in Weimar, Weimarer Stadtkreis, Thüringen, Germany. Worst Day Ever?
Today was the absolute worst day ever And don’t try to convince me that There’s something good in every day Because, when you take a closer look, This world is a pretty evil place. Even if Some goodness does shine through once in a while Satisfaction and happiness don’t last. And it’s not true that It’s all in the mind and heart Because True happiness can be attained Only if one’s surroundings are good It’s not true that good exists I’m sure you can agree that The reality Creates My attitude It’s all beyond my control And you’ll never in a million years hear me say Today was a very good day Now read it from bottom to top, the other way, And see what I really feel about my day. By Chanie Gorkin (2014) Chanie Gorkin wrote the poem, “Worst Day Ever?” while she was a student in the 11th grade at Lubavitch High School Beth Rivkah in Brooklyn, New York, United States of America. In her own words: “It took me a few hours . . . I was scribbling, erasing, writing, trying to figure out how to make it work both ways.” -Chanie Gorkin Keep Calm And Carry On
The Ministry of Information (MOI) was formed by the British Government as the department responsible for publicity and propaganda during the Second World War. In late 1939, after the outbreak of war, the MOI was appointed by the British Government to design a number of morale boosting posters that would be displayed across the British Isles during the testing times that lay ahead. With a bold colored background, the posters were required to be similar in style and feature to the symbolic crown of King George VI, along with a simple yet effective font. The first two posters, ‘Your Courage, Your Cheerfulness, Your Resolution Will Bring Us Victory’ and ‘Freedom Is in Peril’ were produced by His Majesty’s Stationery Office (HMSO). These two were posted on public transport, in shop windows, and upon notice boards across Great Britain. The third and final poster of the set was again very straightforward and to the point, simply reading, ‘Keep Calm and Carry On.’ The plan in place for this poster was to issue it only upon the invasion of Britain by Germany. As this never happened, the poster was only displayed on a very few office walls and was never officially seen by the public. It is believed that most of the Keep Calm posters were reduced to pulp and destroyed at the end of the war in 1945. However, nearly 60 years later, a bookseller from Barter Books stumbled across a copy hidden amongst a pile of dusty old books bought from an auction. A small number also remain in the National Archives and the Imperial War Museum in London. Sadly, no record remains of the unknown civil servant who originally came up with the simple and quintessential Britishness of the ‘Keep Calm and Carry On’ message. However, it is wonderful to think that all these years later, people still find the message so appealing and reassuring in our modern times. By Author Unknown Lend A Hand
I am only one, But still I am one. I cannot do everything, But still I can do something; And because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do the something that I can do. Attributed To Edward Everett Hale: as quoted in James Dalton Morrison: "Masterpieces of Religious Verse" (1948), page 416 Edward Everett Hale was born on 3 April 1822 in Boston, Massachusetts, United States of America. He became Christian Unitarian clergyman and a writer. Edward Everett Hale passed on at 87 years of age on 10 June 1909 in Roxbury, Boston, Massachusetts, United States of America. Present Tense
It was Spring, But it was Summer I wanted, The warm days, And the great outdoors. It was Summer, But it was Fall I wanted, The colorful leaves, And the cool, dry air. It was Fall, But it was Winter I wanted, The beautiful snow, And the joy of the holiday season. It was Winter, But it was Spring I wanted, The warmth, And the blossoming of nature. I was a child, But it was adulthood I wanted, The freedom, And respect. I was twenty, But it was thirty I wanted, To be mature, And sophisticated. I was middle-aged, But it was twenty I wanted, The youth, And the free spirit. I was retired, But it was middle-age I wanted, The presence of mind, Without limitations. My life was over. But I never got what I wanted. By Jason Lehman Jason Lehman was 14 years of age when he wrote the above poem. It was sent to Abigail Van Buren, who after verifying that the poem’s author was indeed ‘a teenager wise beyond his years,’ published it in her newspaper column “Dear Abby” (14 February 1989). Symphony To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, nor respectable; and wealthy, not rich; to study hard, think quietly, talk gently, act frankly; to have an oratory in my own heart, and present spotless sacrifices of dignified kindness in the temple of humanity; to spread no opinions glaringly out like show-plants, and yet leave the garden gate ever open for the chosen friend and the chance acquaintance; to make no pretenses to greatness; to seek no notoriety; to attempt no wide influence; to have no ambitious projects; to let my writings be the daily bubbling spring flowing through constancy, swelled by experiences, into the full, deep river of wisdom; to listen to stars and buds, to babes and sages, with open heart; to bear all cheerfully, do all bravely, await occasions, hurry never; . . . in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden, and unconscious grow up through the common. This is to be my symphony.
By W. H. Channing: as quoted in Octavius Brooks Frothingham: “Memoir of William Henry Channing” (1886), page 166 William Henry Channing was born on 25 May 1810 in Boston, Massachusetts, United States of America. He became a Christian Unitarian clergyman, a social reformer, and a writer. William Henry Channing passed on at 74 years of age on 23 December 1884 in London, England. The Ship That Sails
I’d rather be the ship that sails and rides the billows wild and free; Than be the ship that always fails to leave its port and go to sea. I’d rather feel the sting of strife, where gales are born and tempests roar; Than settle down to a useless life and rot in dry dock on the shore. I’d rather fight some mighty wave with honor in supreme command; And fill a last well-earned grave, than die at ease upon the sand. I’d rather drive where storm winds blow and be the ship that always failed To make the ports where it would go, than be the ship that never sails. Attributed To Page Belnap Happiness Is A Habit
1. Live a simple life. Be temperate in your habits. Avoid self-seeking and selfishness. Make simplicity the keynote of your daily plans. Simple things are best. 2. Think constructively. Train yourself to think clearly and accurately. Store your mind with useful thoughts. Stand guard at the door of your mind. 3. Cultivate a yielding disposition. Resist the common tendency to always want your own way. Try to see the other’s viewpoint. 4. Be grateful. Begin the day with gratitude for your opportunities. Be glad for the privilege of life and work. 5. Work with right motives. The highest purpose of your life should be to grow in spiritual grace and power. 6. Be interested in others. Divert your mind from self-centeredness. In the degree that you give, serve, and help, you will experience the by-product of happiness. 7. Live in a daytight compartment. That is, live one day at a time. Concentrate on your immediate task. Make the most of today. Plan for tomorrow, but live for today. 8. Have a hobby. Nature study, walking, gardening, music, golfing, carpentry, stamp collecting, sketching, voice culture, foreign language, chess, books, photography, social service, public speaking, travel, authorship. Cultivate an avocation to which you turn for diversion and relaxation. By Author Unknown: as published in “Second Chance Newsletter” (April 1991) Rise Above The Crowd
The world is full of people, Content to be what they are, Who never know the joy of success; They lack the will to go that far. Yet in this world there is a need, For some to lead the rest, To rise above the average life, By giving of their best. Are you the one who dares, To try when challenged by the task, To rise to heights you’ve never dreamed, Or is that too much to ask? This can be your year, For great purpose to achieve, If you accept the challenge, And in yourself believe. By Author Unknown Life’s Mirror
There are loyal hearts, there are spirits brave, There are souls that are pure and true; Then give to the world the best you have, And the best will come back to you. Give love, and love to your life will flow, A strength in your utmost need; Have faith, and a score of hearts will show Their faith in your work and deed. Give truth, and your gift will be paid in kind, And honor will honor meet; And the smile which is sweet will surely find A smile that is just as sweet. Give sorrow and pity to those who mourn; You will gather in flowers again The scattered seeds from your thought outborne Though the sowing seemed but vain. For life is the mirror of king and slave, ’Tis just what we are and do; Then give to the world the best you have And the best will come back to you. By Madeline S. Bridges Madeline S. Bridges is a pseudonym of Mary Ainge De Vere, who was born in 1844 in Brooklyn, New York, United States of America. She was the daughter of Thomas Ainge and Margaret (McIntyre) De Vyr, both of whom were natives of Donegal, Ireland before immigrating to America. Her father was a newspaper owner and editor in New York. She had her first poem published in a New York daily newspaper at 14 years of age. Her verses appeared in magazines including “Littell’s Living Age,” “The Century,” “Harper’s,” “Frank Leslie’s,” and “Lippincott’s.” She was a humorist and her squibs, jokes, dialogues, and light verse were published in “Puck,” “Life,” “Judge,” and the humor columns of nearly all American periodicals of the time. Her best-known serious poems include “The Quiet House,” “The Brook,” “Life’s Mirror,” “We Two,” and “Good-bye, Sweetheart.” At about 26 years of age in 1870, she had a collection of poems titled “Love Songs and Other Poems” published, and at about 59 years of age in 1903, she had a collection of poems titled, “The Wind-Swept Wheat” published. Mary Ainge De Vere resided in Brooklyn, New York, United States of America her whole life, and passed on at about 76 years of age on 6 August 1920. The Few
The easy roads are crowded And the level roads are jammed; The pleasant little rivers With the drifting folks are crammed. But off yonder where it’s rocky, Where you get a better view, You will find the ranks are thinning And the travelers are few. Where the going’s smooth and pleasant You will always find the throng, For the many, more’s the pity, Seem to like to drift along. But the steeps that call for courage, And the task that’s hard to do In the end result in glory For the never-wavering few. By Edgar A. Guest: “Just Folks” (1917) Edgar Albert ‘Eddie’ Guest was born on 20 August 1881 in Birmingham, England. He immigrated with his family to the United States of America in 1891. From his first published work in the “Detroit Free Press” until his passing in 1959, he penned some 11,000 poems that were syndicated in 300 newspapers and collected into more than twenty books. Mr. Guest is reputed to have had a new poem published in a newspaper every day for more than thirty years. He became known as ‘The People’s Poet,’ writing poems that were of a sentimental and optimistic nature. Edgar Albert ‘Eddie’ Guest passed on at 77 years of age on 5 August 1959 in Detroit, Michigan, United States of America. Attitude
My Reactions become my attitudes about my life. The most important thing I have learned in my life is that there is only one thing over which I can exercise total and complete control - my attitude. And I know my attitude will control my health, happiness, successes, wealth, relationships, and what I get out of this one-time trip called life. While I cannot control many of the things that happen to me, I can control how I react to those things: My reactions become my attitudes about my life. I know a positive attitude is the difference between being a winner or a loser. Starting at this very moment I hereby choose to control my attitude. Never again will I let people, challenging experiences, problems, and difficult circumstances change my attitude. I will constantly remind myself that the more often I have a good attitude, the more often I have a good day. By Author Unknown What Have We Done Today?
We shall do so much in the years to come, But what have we done today? We shall give our gold in a princely sum, But what did we give today? We shall lift the heart and dry the tear, We shall plant a hope in the place of fear, We shall speak the words of love and cheer, But what did we speak today? We shall be so kind in the afterwhile, But what have we been today? We shall bring each lonely life a smile, But what have we brought today? We shall give to truth a grander birth, And to steadfast faith a deeper worth, We shall feed the hungering souls of earth, But whom have we fed today? We shall reap such joys in the by and by, But what have we sown today? We shall build us mansions in the sky, But what have we built today? ’Tis sweet in idle dreams to bask, But here and now do we do our task? Yes, this is the thing our souls must ask, “What have we done Today?” By Author Unknown The Bridge Builder
An old man, going down 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. By Will Allen Dromgoole William Allen ‘Will’ Dromgoole was born on 26 October 1860 in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, United States of America. She became a writer and a poet. She wrote more than 5,000 essays and more than 7,500 poems, and had 13 books published. She was the first woman officer in the United States Navy, and organized the Women’s Press Club of Waco. She taught school for a year in Tennessee and for a year in Temple, Texas. She is known for her novel, “The Island of the Beautiful” (1911), among other works. William Allen ‘Will’ Dromgoole passed on at 73 years of age on 1 September 1934 in Nashville, Tennessee, United States of America. Hope
Hope is like a mountain strong, That rises fair and even; With pearls and diamonds strewed along, That mark the way to Heaven. By Eliza Wolcott, S. G. Wolcott, And Sarah Goodsell Wolcott Norton Think, Believe, Dream, And Dare
A young man approached an old man in front of a wishing well, looked up into his eyes, and said: “I understand you’re a very wise man. I’d like to know the secret of life.” The old man looked down at the youngster and replied: “I’ve thought a lot in my lifetime, and the secret can be summed up in four words.” “The first is ‘think.’ Think about the values by which you wish to live your life. “The second is ‘believe.’ Believe in yourself based on the thinking you’ve done about the values you’re going to live your life by. “The third is ‘dream.’ Dream about the things that can be, based on your belief in yourself and the values you’re going to live by. “The last is ‘dare.’ Dare to make your dreams become reality, based on your belief in yourself and your values.” And with that, the old man said to the young man, “Think, believe, dream, and dare. By Author Unknown If
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 impostors 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 stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out 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 breathe 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! By Rudyard Kipling: “Rewards and Fairies” (1910) Joseph Rudyard Kipling was born on 30 December 1865 in Mumbai (once also known as Bombay), Maharashtra, India. He was married to Caroline Balestier in 1892. He became an English novelist and poet. Joseph Rudyard Kipling passed on at 70 years of age on 18 January 1936 in London, City of London, Greater London, England. Along The Way
The things I saw along the way Were all that made the day a day. I started out with mighty dreams I set about my hopes and schemes. And yet a rose upon a stem Had not a thing to do with them. I saw some youngsters playing ball. That wasn’t part of it at all. I even heard a bobolink Or some such bird as that, I think. Although my schemes said not a thing About the way a bird can sing. And I suspect, in fact I know With life itself I’ll find it so, That when it ends what I’ll recall Is flowers and friends - not schemes at all. I’ll find the things that made life’s day Were little things along the way. By Douglas Malloch Douglas Malloch, Senior was born on 5 May 1877 in Muskegon, Michigan, United States of America. He grew up in the midst of logging camps, sawmills, and lumber yards. He became enamored with writing poems and stories about lumbering scenes and eventually became known as the ‘Lumbermen’s Poet.’ He wrote his first poem at 10 years of age, which was published in the “Detroit News.” After leaving school, he took a job on the editorial staff at the “Muskegon Chronicle,” where he remained for 13 years, becoming a reporter and feature writer for the paper. After leaving the “Muskegon Chronicle,” he joined the staff of the “American Lumberman” in 1903 as a syndicated columnist. Mr. Malloch soon became a popular and nationally renowned humorist, lecturer, and radio personality. His column was often written in the form of a poem and eventually the poems were collected into a series of books with “In Forest Land” (1906) being his first published work and a national best seller. Douglas Malloch, Senior passed on at 61 years of age on 2 July 1938 in Muskegon, Michigan, United States of America. Attitude
The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness, or skill. It will make or break a company . . . a church . . . a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past. We cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced that life is ten percent what happens to me and ninety percent how I react to it. And so it is with you. We are in charge of our attitudes. By Charles R. Swindoll Charles Rozell ‘Chuck’ Swindoll was born on 18 October 1934 in El Campo, Wharton County, Texas, United States of America. He is a Christian evangelical pastor, educator, radio preacher, and religious writer. He founded “Insight for Living,” which is headquartered in Plano, Texas, and airs a radio program of the same name on more than 2,000 stations around the world in 15 languages. He is presently the senior pastor at the Stonebriar Community Church, a church he founded in Frisco, Texas, United States of America. Can’t
Can’t is the worst word that’s written or spoken; Doing more harm here than slander and lies; On it is many a strong spirit broken, And with it many a good purpose dies. It springs from the lips of the thoughtless each morning And robs us of courage we need through the day: It rings in our ears like a timely-sent warning And laughs when we falter and fall by the way. Can’t is the father of feeble endeavor, The parent of terror and half-hearted work; It weakens the efforts of artisans clever, And makes of the toiler an indolent shirk. It poisons the soul of the man with a vision, It stifles in infancy many a plan; It greets honest toiling with open derision And mocks at the hopes and the dreams of a man. Can’t is a word none should speak without blushing; To utter it should be a symbol of shame; Ambition and courage it daily is crushing; It blights a man’s purpose and shortens his aim. Despise it with all of your hatred of error; Refuse it the lodgment it seeks in your brain; Arm against it as a creature of terror, And all that you dream of you some day shall gain. Can’t is the word that is foe to ambition, An enemy ambushed to shatter your will; Its prey is forever the man with a mission And bows but to courage and patience and skill. Hate it, with hatred that’s deep and undying, For once it is welcomed ‘twill break any man; Whatever the goal you are seeking, keep trying And answer this demon by saying: ‘I can.’ By Edgar A. Guest: “Heap O’ Livin” (1916) Edgar Albert ‘Eddie’ Guest was born on 20 August 1881 in Birmingham, England. He immigrated with his family to the United States of America in 1891. From his first published work in the “Detroit Free Press” until his passing in 1959, he penned some 11,000 poems that were syndicated in 300 newspapers and collected into more than twenty books. Mr. Guest is reputed to have had a new poem published in a newspaper every day for more than thirty years. He became known as ‘The People’s Poet,’ writing poems that were of a sentimental and optimistic nature. Edgar Albert ‘Eddie’ Guest passed on at 77 years of age on 5 August 1959 in Detroit, Michigan, United States of America. Endeavor
“If at first you don’t succeed, Try, try again,” - That’s a manly sort of creed, For boys and men. Trying doesn’t cost a cent, May win a prize; Men that mope in discontent, Will never rise. There is magic in a try, Vigor and vim; He that trusts in, “by and by,” Look out for him! You will never know your strength, Without a test; Just by Better Street at length, One reaches Best. By Author Unknown |
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