"Oh bard," I said, "your verse is free; The shackles that encumber me, The fetters that are my obsession, Are never gyves to your expression.
"The fear of falsities in rhyme, In metre, quantity, or time, Is never yours; you sing along Your unpremeditated song."
"Correct," the young vers librist said. "Whatever pops into my head I write, and have but one small fetter: I start each line with a capital letter.
"But rhyme and metre--Ishkebibble!-- Are actually neglig_ib_le. I go ahead, like all my school, Without a single silly rule."
Of rhyme I am so reverential He made me feel inconsequential. I shed some strongly saline tears For bards I loved in younger years.
"If Keats had fallen for your fluff," I said, "he might have done good stuff. If Burns had thrown his rhymes away, His songs might still be sung to-day."
O bards of rhyme and metre free, My gratitude goes out to ye For all your deathless lines--ahem! Let's see, now.... What _is_ one of them?
How do you tackle your work each day? Are you scared of the job you find? Do you grapple the task that comes your way With a confident, easy mind? Do you stand right up to the work ahead Or fearfully pause to view it? Do you start to toil with a sense of dread? Or feel that you're going to do it?
You can do as much as you think you can, But you'll never accomplish more; If you're afraid of yourself, young man, There's little for you in store. For failure comes from the inside first, It's there if we only knew it, And you can win, though you face the worst, If you feel that you're going to do it.
Success! It's found in the soul of you, And not in the realm of luck! The world will furnish the work to do, But you must provide the pluck. You can do whatever you think you can, It's all in the way you view it. It's all in the start that you make, young man: You must feel that you're going to do it.
How do you tackle your work each day? With confidence clear, or dread? What to yourself do you stop and say When a new task lies ahead? What is the thought that is in your mind? Is fear ever running through it? If so, just tackle the next you find By thinking you're going to do it.
--From "A Heap o' Livin'," by Edgar A. Guest
I tackle my terrible job each day With a fear that is well defined; And I grapple the task that comes my way With no confidence in my mind. I try to evade the work ahead, As I fearfully pause to view it, And I start to toil with a sense of dread, And doubt that I'm going to do it.