It Can Be Done Part 47

COWARDS

We might as well accept the inevitable as the inevitable. There is no escaping death or taxes.

Cowards die many times before their deaths: The valiant never taste of death but once.

Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come, when it will come.

_William Shakespeare._

THE WORD

The c.u.maean sibyl offered Tarquin the Proud nine books for what seemed an exorbitant sum. He refused. She burned three of the books, and placed the same price on the six as on the original nine. Again he refused. She burned three more books, and offered the remainder for the sum she first named. This time Tarquin accepted. The books were found to contain prophecies and invaluable directions regarding Roman policy, but alas, they were no longer complete. So it is with joy. To take it now is to get it in its entirety. To defer until some other occasion is to get less of it--at the same cost.

Today, whatever may annoy, The word for it is Joy, just simple joy: The joy of life; The joy of children and of wife; The joy of bright blue skies; The joy of rain; the glad surprise Of twinkling stars that shine at night; The joy of winged things upon their flight; The joy of noonday, and the tried, True joyousness of eventide; The joy of labor and of mirth; The joy of air, and sea, and earth-- The countless joys that ever flow from Him Whose vast beneficence doth dim The l.u.s.trous light of day, And lavish gifts divine upon our way.

Whatever there be of Sorrow I'll put off till To-morrow, And when To-morrow comes, why, then 'Twill be To-day, and Joy again!

_John Kendrick Bangs._

From "The Atlantic Monthly."

ENVOI

Franklin K. Lane stipulated that when he died his body should be cremated and the ashes scattered from El Capitan over the beautiful Yosemite Valley. He thus symbolized what many of us feel--the unity of our deeper and finer selves with the eternal life and loveliness of nature.

Oh seek me not within a tomb; Thou shalt not find me in the clay!

I pierce a little wall of gloom To mingle with the Day!

I brothered with the things that pa.s.s, Poor giddy Joy and puckered Grief; I go to brother with the Gra.s.s And with the sunning Leaf.

Not Death can sheathe me in a shroud; A joy-sword whetted keen with pain, I join the armies of the Cloud The Lightning and the Rain.

Oh subtle in the sap athrill, Athletic in the glad uplift, A portion of the Cosmic Will, I pierce the planet-drift.

My G.o.d and I shall interknit As rain and Ocean, breath and Air; And oh, the luring thought of it Is prayer!

_John G. Neihardt_

From "The Quest" (collected lyrics).

JAW

We all like a firm, straightforward chin provided it is not ruled by a wagging, gossiping tongue.

This fellow's jaw is built so frail That you could break it like a weed; That fellow's chin retreats until You'd think it in a wild stampede.

Defects like these but show how soon The purpose droops, the spirits flag-- We like a jaw that's made of steel, Just so it's not inclined to wag.

The lower jaw should be as strong And changeless as a granite cliff; Its very look should be a _thus_ And not a _maybe, somehow, if;_ Should mark a soul so resolute It will not fear or cease or lag-- We need a rugged mandible, Provided we don't let it wag.

Yes, with endurance, let it too A tender modesty possess; And to its grim strength let it add The gracious power of gentleness.

Above all, let its might of deeds Induce no loud or vulgar brag-- We like to see a good, firm jaw, But do not wish to hear it wag.

_St. Clair Adams._

THE CONQUEROR

Age is wise; it attempts nothing impossible. Youth is wiser; it believes nothing impossible. Age conserves more; youth accomplishes more. Between the two is an irreconcilable difference.

"Crabbed age and youth Cannot live together,"

as Shakespeare says. And the sympathy of the world is with youth. It is better so; for though many cherished things would be saved from sacrifice if rash immaturity were more often checked, progress would be stayed if life were dominated by sterile and repressive age.

Room for me, graybeards, room, make room!

Menace me not with your eyes of gloom; Jostle me not from the place I seek, For my arms are strong and your own are weak, And if my plea to you be denied I'll thrust your wearying forms aside.

Pity you? Yes, but I cannot stay; I am the spirit of Youth; make way!

Room for me, timid ones, room, make room!

Little I care for your fret and fume-- I laugh at sorrow and jeer defeat; To doubt and doubters I give the lie, And fear is stilled as I swagger by, And life's a fight and I seek the fray; I am the spirit of Youth; make way!

Room for me, mighty ones, room, make room!

I fear no power and dread no doom; And you who curse me and you who bless Alike must bow to my dauntlessness.

I topple the king from his golden throne, I smash old idols of bra.s.s and stone, I am not hampered by yesterday.