I wonder if this verse was Mr Guest’s answer to Rudyard Kipling’s famous verse, IF? Read IF here.
by Edgar Guest
To do your little bit of toil, to play life’s game with head erect; to stoop to nothing that would soil your honor or your self-respect; to win what gold and fame you can, but first of all to be a man.
To know the bitter and the sweet, the sunshine and the days of rain; to meet both victory and defeat, nor boast too loudly nor complain; to face whatever fates befall and be a man throughout it all.
To seek success in honest strife but not to value it so much that, winning it, you go through life stained by dishonor’s scarlet touch. What goal or dream you choose, pursue, but be a man whatever you do!
The Letter F takes its place and stands tall amongst all the other letters, for it starts many a great and noble word. The feisty F has proven itself quite useful for alliteration, too.
Some folks are FOOTLOOSE and FANCY FREE Others talk of FREEDOM, FIDELITY, and FRATERNITY. They rally round their FLAG and FIGHT what they consider to be the FORCES of oppression. (However, opinions on “oppression” differ.)
The Apostle Paul urged the followers of Christ to
The flexibility of the letter F is also useful for this cute little verse my mother-in-law liked to quote: A flea and a fly were imprisoned one day in a flue. Said the fly to the flea, “Let us fly!” Said the flea to the fly, “Let us flee!” So they flew through a flaw in the flue.
F can stand for FIRST. And this week I’ve seen some first-class spring signs: the first butterfly the first robin the first meadowlark
But watch your step, because F can also begin:
As in this poem I’ve called “FOLLY”
Fools are always rushing in where another fool’s already been, the path well trodden by the feet that think temptation’s end is sweet.
He signed His name in granite as the mountains tall were formed; He signed His name in sunlight and the cold earth slowly warmed.
He signed His name in water as He filled the seven seas; He signed His name in fertile soil where He placed the mighty trees.
He signed His name in clay made flesh as He created man; He signed His name on the earth He made according to His plan.
He signed His name in wrath as He destroyed the world by flood, but to save us from our wicked ways, He signed His name in blood.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is an old poem, I believe; I got a copy from Mom long ago. However, I couldn’t find any trace of the verse or author in a Google search, so if anyone knows more about it or him, please share the info in a comment below.
Earlier today my husband directed me to another blogger’s post, “Last year’s Wisdom” and I enjoyed reading it. Here’s the link. I hope you’ll all take a few minutes to read these wise, cheerful, and inspiring words.
When I was asked if I’d like to play host for the Sunday prompts at Ragtag Daily Prompt, I started a list of interesting possible prompt words. And, being a lover of words, I’ve kept on adding to it until I now have several years’ worth of possible prompts. Now that I’m not doing the prompts anymore, I’ll just toss one of these words into my posts now and then.
One of the words on my list was INEFFECTIVE. Alas, I soon discovered that prompt words should be amenable to photo bloggers as well as poets and storytellers — and it may be hard to illustrate INEFFECTIVE in a photo. But I’ll have a crack at it. (Image from Pixabay.)
Today’s Word of the Day Challenge is GLOOMY. I wasn’t going to post anything for this but a few minutes ago I happened upon this old poem, so I’ll post it as a response and encouragement to all.
THE OPTIMISTIC FROG
Two frogs fell into a deep cream bowl, One was an optimistic soul; But the other took the gloomy view, “We shall drown,” he cried, without more ado. So with a last despairing cry, He flung up his legs and said, “Good-bye.” Quoth the other frog with a merry grim, “I can’t get out, but I won’t give in. I’ll just swim round till my strength is spent, Then will I die the more content.” Bravely he swam till it would seem His struggles began to churn the cream. On the top of the butter at last he stopped, And out of the bowl he gaily hopped. What of the moral? ‘Tis easily found: If you can’t hop out, keep swimming around.
This poem has been posted often through the years. some bloggers have given it a title — I will do so, too, but don’t quote me. 🙂 I’ve seen it listed as “Author Unknown” but two posts ascribe it to Walter Knight, from Knight’s Master Book of New Illustrations, which was published by Eerdmans in 1956
Not sure if he wrote the poem or simply compiled the book, as I’ve seen this verse ascribed to T.C. Hamlet as well. In any case, it’s still possible to get copies of Knight’s original book, and reprints have been done through the years.