Failure!
I came across this poem as well, and I think it too is an inspiring piece. And, it has motivated me to set a new goal for myself and my blogging, but I’ll discuss that in a separate post.
So, without further ado or commentary, here is…
To the Man Who Fails
Let others sing to the hero who wins in the ceaseless fray,
Who, over the crushed and fallen, pursueth his upward way;
For him let them weave the laurel, to him be their paean sung.
Whom the kindly fates have chosen, who are happy their loved among;
But mine be a different message, some soul in its stress to reach;
To bind, o’er the wound of failure, the balm of pitying speech;
To whisper: “Be up and doing, for courage at last prevails”–
I sing–who have supped with Failure–I sing to the man who fails.
I know how the gray cloud darkens, and mantles the soul in gloom;
I know how the spirit harkens to voices of doubt or of doom;
I know how the tempter mutters his terrible word, “Despair!”
But the heart has its secret chamber, and I know that our God is there.
Our years are as moments only; our failures He counts as naught;
The stone that the builders rejected, perchance is the one that He sought.
Mayhap, in the ultimate judgment, the effort alone avails,
And the laurel of great achievement shall be for the man who fails.
We sow in the darkness only; but the Reaper shall reap in light;
And the day of His perfect glory shall tell of the deeds of the night.
We gather our gold, and store it, and the whisper is heard, “Success!”
But, tell me, ye cold, white sleepers, what were an achievement less?
We struggle for fame, and win it; and lo! like a fleeting breath,
It is lost in the realm of silence, whose ruler and king is Death.
Where are the Norseland heroes, the ghosts of a housewife’s tales?
I sing–for the Father heeds him–I sing to the man who fails.
Oh, men, who are labelled “failures,” up, rise up! again, and do!
Somewhere in the world of action is room; there is room for you.
No failure was e’er recorded, in the annals of truthful men,
Except of the craven-hearted who fails, nor attempts again.
The glory is in the doing, and not in the trophy won;
The walls that are laid in darkness may laugh to the kiss of the sun.
Oh, weary and worn and stricken, oh, child of fate’s cruel gales!
I sing,–that it haply may cheer him,–I sing to the man who fails.
Alfred J. Waterhouse
So, cast away the fear of failure and harken to action then!
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