An American traveler in Italy stood watching a lumberman who, as the
logs floated down a swift mountain stream, jabbed his hook in an
occasional one and drew it carefully aside. "Why do you pick out those
few?" the traveler asked. "They all look alike." "But they are not
alike, seignior. The logs I let pass have grown on the side of a
mountain, where they have been protected all their lives. Their grain is
coarse; they are good only for lumber. But these logs, seignior, grew on
the top of the mountain. From the time they were sprouts and saplings
they were lashed and buffeted by the winds, and so they grew strong with
fine grain. We save them for choice work; they are not 'lumber,'
seignior."
When you're up against a trouble,
Meet it squarely, face to face;
Lift your chin and set your shoulders,
Plant your feet and take a brace.
When it's vain to try to dodge it,
Do the best that you can do;
You may fail, but you may conquer,
See it through!
Black may be the clouds about you
And your future may seem grim,
But don't let your nerve desert you;
Keep yourself in fighting trim.
If the worse is bound to happen,
Spite of all that you can do,
Running from it will not save you,
See it through!
Even hope may seem but futile,
When with troubles you're beset,
But remember you are facing
Just what other men have met.
You may fail, but fall still fighting;
Don't give up, whate'er you do;
Eyes front, head high to the finish.
See it through!
_Edgar A. Guest._