This poem has been printed as anonymous and it has also been attributed
to Edmund Vance Cook:
Did you tackle the trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven heart, and fearful?
Oh, a trouble’s a ton or a trouble’s an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it;
And it isn’t the fact that you’re hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it.
You’re beaten to earth. Well, well, what’s that?
Come up with a smiling face.
It’s nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there--that’s disgrace.
The harder you’re thrown, why, the higher you bounce;
Be proud of your blackened eye.
It isn’t the fact that you’re licked that counts,
It’s how did you fight, and why.
And tho you be done to death, what then?
If you battled the best you could;
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl or comes with a pounce,
And whether he’s slow or spry,
It isn’t the fact that you’re dead that counts,
But only how did you die.
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