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Here's the way it looks to me; Cattle thief's no thing to be, But if you take up that trade, Be the best one ever made; If you've got a thing to do Do it strong an' SEE IT THROUGH!
That was him! He played the game, Took his chances, bet his hand, When at last the showdown came An' he lost, he kept his sand; Didn't weep an' didn't pray, Didn't waver er repent, Simply tossed his cards away, Knowin' well just what it meant.
Never claimed the deck was stacked, Never called the game a snide, Acted like a man should act, Took his medicine--an' died!
So I say it here again, What I think is true of men; They should try to do what's right, Fair an' square an' clean an' white, But, whatever is their line, Bad er good er foul er fine, Let 'em go the Limit, play Like a plunger, that's the way!
_Berton Braley._
From "Songs of the Workaday World."
[Ill.u.s.tration: CHARLOTTE PERKINS GILMAN]
RESOLVE
There are some things we should all resolve to do. What are they? Any one may make a list for himself. It would be interesting to compare it with the one here given by the poet.
To keep my health!
To do my work!
To live!
To see to it I grow and gain and give!
Never to look behind me for an hour!
To wait in weakness, and to walk in power; But always fronting onward to the light, Always and always facing towards the right.
Robbed, starved, defeated, fallen, wide astray-- On, with what strength I have!
Back to the way!
_Charlotte Perkins Gilman._
From "In This Our World."
WHEN NATURE WANTS A MAN
Only melting and hammering can shape and temper steel for fine use. Only struggle and suffering can give a man the qualities that enable him to render large service to humanity. Lincoln was born in a log cabin. He split rails, and conned a few books by the firelight in the evening. He became a backwoods lawyer with apparently no advantages or encouraging prospects. But all the while he had his visions, which ever became n.o.bler; and the adversities he knew but gave him the deeper sympathy for others and the wider and steadier outlook on human problems. Thus when the supreme need arose, Lincoln was ready--harsh-visaged nature had done its work of moulding and preparing a man.
When Nature wants to drill a man And thrill a man, And skill a man, When Nature wants to mould a man To play the n.o.blest part; When she yearns with all her heart To create so great and bold a man That all the world shall praise-- Watch her method, watch her ways!
How she ruthlessly perfects Whom she royally elects; How she hammers him and hurts him And with mighty blows converts him Into trial shapes of clay which only Nature understands-- While his tortured heart is crying and he lifts beseeching hands!-- How she bends, but never breaks, When his good she undertakes....
How she uses whom she chooses And with every purpose fuses him, By every art induces him To try his splendor out-- Nature knows what she's about.
When Nature wants to take a man And shake a man And wake a man; When Nature wants to make a man To do the Future's will; When she tries with all her skill And she yearns with all her soul To create him large and whole....
With what cunning she prepares him!
How she goads and never spares him, How she whets him and she frets him And in poverty begets him....
How she often disappoints Whom she sacredly anoints, With what wisdom she will hide him, Never minding what betide him Though his genius sob with slighting and his pride may not forget!
Bids him struggle harder yet.
Makes him lonely So that only G.o.d's high messages shall reach him So that she may surely teach him What the Hierarchy planned.
Though he may not understand Gives him pa.s.sions to command-- How remorselessly she spurs him, With terrific ardor stirs him When she poignantly prefers him!
When Nature wants to name a man And fame a man And tame a man; When Nature wants to shame a man To do his heavenly best....
When she tries the highest test That her reckoning may bring-- When she wants a G.o.d or king!-- How she reins him and restrains him So his body scarce contains him While she fires him And inspires him!
Keeps him yearning, ever burning for a tantalising goal-- Lures and lacerates his soul.
Sets a challenge for his spirit, Draws it higher when he's near it-- Makes a jungle, that he clear it; Makes a desert, that he fear it And subdue it if he can-- So doth Nature make a man.
Then, to test his spirit's wrath Hurls a mountain in his path-- Puts a bitter choice before him And relentless stands o'er him.
"Climb, or peris.h.!.+" so she says....
Watch her purpose, watch her ways!
Nature's plan is wondrous kind Could we understand her mind ...
Fools are they who call her blind.
When his feet are torn and bleeding Yet his spirit mounts unheeding, All his higher powers speeding Blazing newer paths and fine; When the force that is divine Leaps to challenge every failure and his ardor still is sweet And love and hope are burning in the presence of defeat....
Lo, the crisis! Lo, the shout That must call the leader out.
When the people need salvation Doth he come to lead the nation....
Then doth Nature show her plan When the world has found--a man!
_Angela Morgan._
From "Forward, March!"
ORDER AND THE BEES
(FROM "HENRY V.")
We often wish that we might do some other man's work, occupy his social or political station. But such an interchange is not easy. The world is complex, and its adjustments have come from long years of experience.
Each man does well to perform the tasks for which nature and training have fitted him. And instead of feeling envy toward other people, we should rejoice that all labor, however diverse, is to one great end--it makes life richer and fuller.
Therefore doth heaven divide The state of man in divers functions, Setting endeavor in continual motion; To which is fixed, as an aim or b.u.t.t, Obedience: for so work the honey-bees, Creatures that by a rule in nature teach The act of order to a peopled kingdom.
They have a king and officers of sorts; Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds; Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the tent-royal of their emperor: Who, busied in his majesty, surveys The singing masons building roofs of gold, The civil citizens kneading up the honey, The poor mechanic porters crowding in Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate, The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum, Delivering o'er to executors pale The lazy yawning drone. I this infer, That many things, having full reference To one consent, may work contrariously.
_William Shakespeare._