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Good Timber
by Douglas Malloch
The tree that never had to
fight
For sun and sky and air and light,
But stood out in the
open plain
And always got its share of rain,
Never became a
forest king
But lived and died a scrubby thing.
The man who never had to
toil
To gain and farm his patch of soil,
Who never had to win
his share
Of sun and sky and light and air,
Never became a
manly man
But lived and died as he began.
Good timber does not grow with
ease:
The stronger wind, the stronger trees;
The further sky,
the greater length;
The more the storm, the more the
strength.
By sun and cold, by rain and snow,
In trees and men
good timbers grow.
Where thickest lies
the forest growth,
We find the patriarchs of both.
And they
hold counsel with the stars
Whose broken branches show the
scars
Of many winds and much of strife.
This is the common law
of life.
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Whoso would
be a man must be a non-conformist.
Ralph Waldo
Emerson, 1803 - 1882
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If
by Rudyard Kipling
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If you can keep
your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and
blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all
men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting
too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or
being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated,
don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good,
nor talk too wise:
If you can dream
- and not make dreams your master,
If you can think -
and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with
Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just
the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've
spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for
fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to,
broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out
tools:
If you can make
one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one
turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at
your beginnings
And never breath a word about your
loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and
sinew
To serve your turn long after they are
gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in
you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold
on!"
If you can talk
with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings -
nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving
friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but
none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving
minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance
run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in
it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my
son!
Rudyard Kipling
(1865-1936) |
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