Monday, September 29, 2014

It Couldn't Be Done

Poem by Edgar Albert Guest

I find this poem to be very fitting at this point in my life, and as my Facebook won't let me share such a long post, I'm posting it here. 


 Somebody said that it couldn't be done, 
But he with a chuckle replied
That "maybe it couldn't," but he would be one 
Who wouldn't say so till he'd tried.

So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin 
On his face. If he worried he hid it.
He started to sing as he tackled the thing 
That couldn't be done, and he did it.  

Somebody scoffed: "Oh, you'll never do that; 
At least no one ever has done it";
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat, 
And the first thing we knew he'd begun it.

With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin, 
Without any doubting or quiddit,
He started to sing as he tackled the thing 
That couldn't be done, and he did it.  

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done, 
There are thousands to prophesy failure;
There are thousands to point out to you, one by one, 
The dangers that wait to assail you.

But just buckle in with a bit of a grin, 
Just take off your coat and go to it;
Just start to sing as you tackle the thing 
That "cannot be done," and you'll do it.

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