<h2><SPAN name="poem57"></SPAN>IF</h2>
<p class="poetry">’Twixt what thou art, and what thou
wouldst be, let<br/>
No “If” arise on which to lay the blame.<br/>
Man makes a mountain of that puny word,<br/>
But, like a blade of grass before the scythe,<br/>
It falls and withers when a human will,<br/>
Stirred by creative force, sweeps toward its aim.</p>
<p class="poetry">Thou wilt be what thou couldst be.
Circumstance<br/>
Is but the toy of genius. When a soul<br/>
Burns with a god-like purpose to achieve,<br/>
All obstacles between it and its goal<br/>
Must vanish as the dew before the sun.</p>
<p class="poetry">“If” is the motto of the dilettante<br/>
And idle dreamer; ’tis the poor excuse<br/>
Of mediocrity. The truly great<br/>
Know not the word, or know it but to scorn,<br/>
Else had Joan of Arc a peasant died,<br/>
Uncrowned by glory and by men unsung.</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />
1 of 2
2 of 2
Previous
Next
Update Required
To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.