Poet: Julie Hebert, © 2014
Sometimes things don't go our way,
And there is nothing we can do.
We wish and plead to those above,
And often feel quite blue.
We wonder if things could have changed,
If there was something we had done.
Knowing deep down in our hearts,
That there was simply none.
Time will pass and feelings will fade,
We will soon be at our best.
Our faith was tried and limits pushed,
It was one big faithful test.
Now that we've had a chance to think,
And find what good was missed.
We realize fate was on our side,
And lucky to have that assist.
Poet: Edgar A. Guest
I have a life I can't escape,
A life that's mine to mold and shape,
Some things I lack of strength and skill,
I blunder much and fumble; still
I can in my own way design
What is to be this life of mine.
It is not mine to say how much
Of gold and silver I shall clutch
What heights of glory I shall climb
What splendid deeds achieve in time;
Lacking the genius of the great
The lesser tasks may be my fate.
But I can say what I shall be,
What in my life the world shall see;
Can mold my thoughts and actions here
To what is find or what is dear.
Though small my skill, I can elect
To keep or lose my self-respect.
No man can kindlier be than I,
No man can more detest a lie,
I can be just as clean and true
As any gifted genius, who
Rises to earthly heights of fame
And wins at last the world's acclaim.
I can be friendly, blithe of heart,
Can build or tear my life apart,
Can happy-natured smile along
And shrug my shoulders at a wrong.
I only choose what is to be
This life which symbolizes me.
Poet: Ella Wheeler Wilcox
One ship drives east and another drives west,
With the self-same winds that blow.
'Tis the set of the sails,
And not the gales
Which tell us the way to go.
Like the winds of the sea are the ways of fate.
As we voyage along through life:
'Tis the set of a soul
That decides its goal,
And not the calm or the strife.
Poet: Theodore Lynch Fitz Simons
Strange it is, yet 'tis true,
Man's fate is not ruled by a star.
For whatever we think, we are;
And whatever we are, we do.
Time tames us not; we grow old
By thoughts of age, not by years.
As a river-worn rock-bed, our fears
Wear our forms into sorrowful mold.
Poet: Washington Gladden
In the bitter waves of woe.
Beaten and tossed about
By the sullen winds that blow
From the desolate shores of doubt,
When the anchors that faith had cast
Are dragging in the gale,
I am quietly holding fast
To the things that cannot fail,
I know that right is right,
That it is not good to lie.
That love is better that spite,
And a neighbor than a spy.
I know that passion needs
The leash of sober mind;
I know that generous deeds
Some sure reward will find;
That the rulers must obey,
That the givers shall increase;
That Duty lights the way
For the beautiful feet of Peace.
In the darkest night of the year.
When the stars have all gone out.
That courage is better than fear.
That faith is truer than doubt
And fierce though the fiends may fight.
And long though the angels hide,
I know that Truth and Right
Have the universe on their side.
And that somewhere beyond the stars
Is a love that is better than fate.
When the night unlocks her bars,
I shall see Him, and I will wait.
Poet: William Ernest Henley
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud;
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll;
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
Poet: Charles Swain
Let tomorrow take care of tomorrow;
Leave things of the future to fate;
What's the use to anticipate sorrow?
Life's troubles come never too late!
If to hope overmuch be an error,
'Tis one that the wise have preferred;
And how often have hearts been in terror
Of evils that never occurred.
Have faith, and thy faith shall sustain thee;
Permit not suspicion and care
With invisible bonds to acclaim thee,
But bear what God gives thee to bear.
By his spirit supported and gladdened,
Be ne'er by forebodings deterred;
But think how oft hearts have been saddened
By fear of what never occurred.
Let tomorrow take care of tomorrow;
Short and dark as our life may appear
We may make it still darker by sorrow,
Still shorter by folly and fear!
Half our troubles are half our invention,
And often from blessings conferred
Have we shrunk, in the wild apprehension
Of evils that never occurred.
