Hope sees the invisible, feels the intangible, and achieves the impossible. ~ Helen Keller
Now, think you, Life, I am defeated quite?
More than a single battle shall be mine
Before I yield the sword and give the sign
And turn, a crownless outcast, to the night.
Wounded, and yet unconquered in the fight,
I wait in silence till the day may shine
Once more upon my strength, and all the line
Of your defenses break before my might.
Mine be that warrior’s blood who, stricken sore,
Lies in his quiet chamber till he hears
Afar the clash and clang of arms, and knows
The cause he lived for calls for him once more;
And straightway rises, whole and void of fears,
And armed, turns him singing to his foes.
It Can Be Done / Poems of Inspiration
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From “The Earth Cry.”
The Way Of It
‘THERE are roads that lead through valleys where the
grass is soft and green ;
There are lanes that lead through morning where the
friendly maples lean;
But for those who face the battle where the far height
holds its thrill
The only goal worth finding
Where the rock-filled road is winding,
Where the heavy burden’s binding,
Is the goal upon a hill.
We may think of life as something that is built up from
We may hear old songs that call us where the shafts of
But the storms beyond are waiting for the raw, un-
And though hearts and hopes are breaking
As we come to bitter waking,
Yet the only road worth taking
Is the road that leads uphill.
When I compare
What I have lost with what I have gained,
What I have missed with what attained,
Little room do I find for pride.
I am aware
How many days have been idly spent;
How like an arrow the good intent
Has fallen short or been turned aside.
But who shall dare
To measure loss and gain in this wise?
Defeat may be victory in disguise;
The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide.
Far better is it to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat.
My Name Is Trouble
My name is Trouble—I’m a busy bloke— I am the test of Courage—and of Class—
I bind the coward to a bitter yoke,
I drive the craven from the crowning pass;
Weaklings I crush before they come to fame; But as the red star guides across the night,
I train the stalwart for a better game; I drive the brave into a harder fight.
My name is Hard Luck—the wrecker of rare dreams— I follow all who seek the open fray;
I am the shadow where the far light gleams For those who seek to know the open way;
Quitters I break before they reach the crest,
But where the red field echoes with the drums,
I build the fighter for the final test
And mold the brave for any drive that comes.
My name is Sorrow—I shall come to all To block the surfeit of an endless joy;
Along the Sable Road I pay my call Before the sweetness of success can cloy;
And weaker souls shall weep amid the throng And fall before me, broken and dismayed;
But braver hearts shall know that I belong And take me in, serene and unafraid.
My name’s Defeat—but through the bitter fight,
To those who know, I’m something more than friend;
For I can build beyond the wrath of might And drive away all yellow from the blend;
For those who quit, I am the final blow,
But for the brave who seek their chance to learn,
I show the way, at last, beyond the foe,
To where the scarlet flames of triumph burn.
T’is So Much Joy
‘T is so much joy! ‘T is so much joy!
If I should fail, what poverty!
And yet, as poor as I
Have ventured all upon a throw;
Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so
This side the victory!
Life is but life, and death but death!
Bliss is but bliss, and breath but breath!
And if, indeed, I fail,
At least to know the worst is sweet.
Defeat means nothing but defeat,
No drearier can prevail!
And if I gain, – oh, gun at sea,
Oh, bells that in the steeples be,
At first repeat it slow!
For heaven is a different thing
Conjectured, and waked sudden in,
And might o’erwhelm me so!
– Emily Dickinson