It Can Be Done Part 6

SAY NOT THE STRUGGLE NOUGHT AVAILETH

In any large or prolonged enterprise we are likely to take too limited a view of the progress we are making. The obstacles do not yield at some given point; we therefore imagine we have made no headway. The poet here uses three comparisons to show the folly of accepting this hasty and partial evidence. A soldier may think, from the little part of the battle he can see, that the day is going against him; but by holding his ground stoutly he may help his comrades in another quarter to win the victory. Successive waves may seem to rise no higher on the land, but far back in swollen creek and inlet is proof that the tide is coming in.

As we look toward the east, we are discouraged at the slowness of daybreak; but by looking westward we see the whole landscape illumined.

Say not the struggle nought availeth, The labor and the wounds are vain, The enemy faints not, nor faileth, And as things have been they remain.

If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars; It may be, in yon smoke conceal'd, Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers, And, but for you, possess the field.

For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, Seem here no painful inch to gain, Far back, through creeks and inlets making, Comes silent, flooding in, the main.

And not by eastern windows only, When daylight comes, comes in the light, In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly, But westward, look, the land is bright.

_Arthur Hugh Clough._

WORTH WHILE

A little boy whom his mother had rebuked for not turning a deaf ear to temptation protested, with tears, that he had no deaf ear. But temptation, even when heard, must somehow be resisted. Yea, especially when heard! We deserve no credit for resisting it unless it comes to our ears like the voice of the siren.

It is easy enough to be pleasant, When life flows by like a song, But the man worth while is one who will smile, When everything goes dead wrong.

For the test of the heart is trouble, And it always comes with the years, And the smile that is worth the praises of earth, Is the smile that s.h.i.+nes through tears.

It is easy enough to be prudent, When nothing tempts you to stray, When without or within no voice of sin Is luring your soul away; But it's only a negative virtue Until it is tried by fire, And the life that is worth the honor on earth, Is the one that resists desire.

By the cynic, the sad, the fallen, Who had no strength for the strife, The world's highway is c.u.mbered to-day, They make up the sum of life.

But the virtue that conquers pa.s.sion, And the sorrow that hides in a smile, It is these that are worth the homage on earth For we find them but once in a while.

_Ella Wheeler Wilc.o.x._

From "Poems of Sentiment."

HOPE

Gloom and despair are really ignorance in another form. They fail to reckon with the fact that what appears to be baneful often turns out to be good. Lincoln lost the senators.h.i.+p to Douglas and thought he had ended his career; had he won the contest, he might have remained only a senator. Life often has surprise parties for us. Things come to us masked in gloom and black; but Time, the revealer, strips off the disguise, and lo, what we have is blessings.

Never go gloomy, man with a mind, Hope is a better companion than fear; Providence, ever benignant and kind, Gives with a smile what you take with a tear; All will be right, Look to the light.

Morning was ever the daughter of night; All that was black will be all that is bright, Cheerily, cheerily, then cheer up.

Many a foe is a friend in disguise, Many a trouble a blessing most true, Helping the heart to be happy and wise, With love ever precious and joys ever new.

Stand in the van, Strike like a man!

This is the bravest and cleverest plan; Trusting in G.o.d while you do what you can.

Cheerily, cheerily, then cheer up.

_Anonymous._

I'M GLAD

I'm glad the sky is painted blue; And the earth is painted green; And such a lot of nice fresh air All sandwiched in between.

_Anonymous._

THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS

The nautilus is a small mollusk that creeps upon the bottom of the sea, though it used to be supposed to swim, or even to spread a kind of sail so that the wind might drive it along the surface. What interests us in this poem is the way the nautilus _grows_. Just as a tree when sawed down has the record of its age in the number of its rings, so does the nautilus measure its age by the ever-widening compartments of its sh.e.l.l.

These it has successively occupied. The poet, looking upon the now empty sh.e.l.l, thinks of human life as growing in the same way. We advance from one state of being to another, each n.o.bler than the one which preceded it, until the spirit leaves its sh.e.l.l altogether and attains a glorious and perfect freedom.

This is the s.h.i.+p of pearl, which, poets feign, Sailed the unshadowed main,-- The venturous bark that flings On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings In gulfs enchanted, where the Siren sings, And coral reefs lie bare, Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair.

Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl; Wrecked is the s.h.i.+p of pearl!

And every chambered cell, Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell, As the frail tenant shaped his growing sh.e.l.l, Before thee lies revealed,-- Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed!

Year after year beheld the silent toil That spread his l.u.s.trous coil; Still, as the spiral grew, He left the past year's dwelling for the new, Stole with soft step its s.h.i.+ning archway through, Built up its idle door, Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.

Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, Child of the wandering sea, Cast from her lap, forlorn!

From thy dead lips a clearer note is born Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn!

While on mine ear it rings, Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:--

Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, As the swift seasons roll!

Leave thy low-vaulted past!

Let each new temple, n.o.bler than the last, Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, Till thou at length art free, Leaving thine outgrown sh.e.l.l by life's unresting sea!