It Can Be Done Part 38

ULTIMATE ACT

It is well to have purposes we can carry out. It is also well to have purposes so lofty that we cannot carry them out; for these latter are the mighty inner fires which warm our being at its core and without which our impulse to do even the lesser things would be feeble.

I had rather cut man's purpose deeper than Achieving it be crowned as conqueror; To will divinely is to accomplish more Than a mere deed: it fills anew the wan Aspect of life with blood; it draws upon Sources beyond the common reach and lore Of mortals, to replenish at its core The G.o.d-impa.s.sioned energy of man.

And herewith all the worlds of deed and thought Quicken again with meaning--pulse and thrill With Deity--that had forgot His touch.

There is not any act avails so much As this invisible wedding of the will With Life--yea, though it seem to accomplish naught.

_Henry Bryan Binns._

From "The Free Spirit."

HE WHOM A DREAM HATH POSSESSED

The man possessed by a vision is not perplexed, troubled, restricted, as the rest of us are. He wanders yet is not lost from home, sees a million dawns yet never night descending, faces death and destruction and in them finds triumph.

He whom a dream hath possessed knoweth no more of doubting, For mist and the blowing of winds and the mouthing of words he scorns; Not the sinuous speech of schools he hears, but a knightly shouting, And never comes darkness down, yet he greeteth a million morns.

He whom a dream hath possessed knoweth no more of roaming; All roads and the flowing of waves and the speediest flight he knows, But wherever his feet are set, his soul is forever homing, And going, he comes, and coming he heareth a call and goes.

He whom a dream hath possessed knoweth no more of sorrow, At death and the dropping of leaves and the fading of suns he smiles, For a dream remembers no past and scorns the desire of a morrow, And a dream in a sea of doom sets surely the ultimate isles.

He whom a dream hath possessed treads the impalpable marches, From the dust of the day's long road he leaps to a laughing star, And the ruin of worlds that fall he views from eternal arches, And rides G.o.d's battlefield in a flashing and golden car.

_Sheamus O Sheel._

From "The Lyric Year."

SUCCESS

As necessity is the mother of invention, strong desire is the mother of attainment.

If you want a thing bad enough To go out and fight for it, Work day and night for it, Give up your time and your peace and your sleep for it If only desire of it Makes you quite mad enough Never to tire of it, Makes you hold all other things tawdry and cheap for it If life seems all empty and useless without it And all that you scheme and you dream is about it, If gladly you'll sweat for it, Fret for it, Plan for it, Lose all your terror of G.o.d or man for it, If you'll simply go after that thing that you want, With all your capacity, Strength and sagacity, Faith, hope and confidence, stern pertinacity, If neither cold poverty, famished and gaunt, Nor sickness nor pain Of body or brain Can turn you away from the thing that you want, If dogged and grim you besiege and beset it, _You'll get it!_

_Berton Braley._

From "Things As They Are."

PLAY THE GAME

The Duke of Wellington said that the battle of Waterloo was won on the cricket fields of Eton. English sport at its best is admirable; it asks outward triumph if possible, but far more it asks that one do his best till the very end and treat his opponent with courtesy and fairness. The spirit thus instilled at school has again and again been carried in after life into the large affairs of the nation.

There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night-- Ten to make and the match to win-- A b.u.mping pitch and a blinding light, An hour to play and the last man in.

And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat Or the selfish hope of a season's fame, But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote; "Play up! Play up! And play the game!"

The sand of the desert is sodden red-- Red with the wreck of a square that broke; The Gatling's jammed and the colonel dead, And the regiment's blind with dust and smoke.

The river of death has brimmed his banks, And England's far and Honor a name, But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks, "Play up! Play up! And play the game!"

This is the word that year by year, While in her place the School is set, Every one of her sons must hear, And none that hears it dare forget.

This they all with a joyful mind Bear through life like a torch in flame, And falling, fling to the host behind-- "Play up! Play up! And play the game!"

_Henry Newbolt._

From "Admirals All, and Other Verses."

THE MAN WHO FRETS AT WORLDLY STRIFE

"Lord, what fools these mortals be!" exclaims Puck in _A Mid-summer Night's Dream. _And well might the fairy marvel who sees folk vexing themselves over matters that nine times out of ten come to nothing. Much wiser is the man who smiles at misfortunes, even when they are real ones and affect him personally. Charles Lamb once cheerfully helped to hiss off the stage a play he himself had written.

The man who frets at worldly strife Grows sallow, sour, and thin; Give us the lad whose happy life Is one perpetual grin: He, Midas-like, turns all to gold-- He smiles when others sigh, Enjoys alike the hot and cold, And laughs though wet or dry.

There's fun in everything we meet,-- The greatest, worst, and best; Existence is a merry treat, And every speech a jest:

So, come what may, the man's in luck Who turns it all to glee, And laughing, cries, with honest Puck, "Good Lord! what fools ye be."

_Joseph Rodman Drake._