Part 17 (2/2)

The Proof of Worth

Though victory's proof of the skill you possess, Defeat is the proof of your grit; A weakling can smile in his days of success, But at trouble's first sign he will quit.

So the test of the heart and the test of your pluck Isn't skies that are sunny and fair, But how do you stand to the blow that is struck And how do you battle despair?

A fool can seem wise when the pathway is clear And it's easy to see the way out, But the test of man's judgment is something to fear, And what does he do when in doubt?

And the proof of his faith is the courage he shows When sorrows lie deep in his breast; It's the way that he suffers the griefs that he knows That brings out his worst or his best.

The test of a man is how much he will bear For a cause which he knows to be right, How long will he stand in the depths of despair, How much will he suffer and fight?

There are many to serve when the victory's near And few are the hurts to be borne, But it calls for a leader of courage to cheer The men in a battle forlorn.

It's the way you hold out against odds that are great That proves what your courage is worth, It's the way that you stand to the bruises of fate That shows up your stature and girth.

And victory's nothing but proof of your skill, Veneered with a glory that's thin, Unless it is proof of unfaltering will, And unless you have suffered to win.

Follow a Famous Father

I follow a famous father, His honor is mine to wear; He gave me a name that was free from shame, A name he was proud to bear.

He lived in the morning sunlight, And marched in the ranks of right.

He was always true to the best he knew And the s.h.i.+eld that he wore was bright.

I follow a famous father, And never a day goes by But I feel that he looks down to me To carry his standard high.

He stood to the sternest trials As only a brave man can; Though the way be long, I must never wrong The name of so good a man.

I follow a famous father, Not known to the printed page, Nor written down in the world's renown As a prince of his little age.

But never a stain attached to him And never he stooped to shame; He was bold and brave and to me he gave The pride of an honest name.

I follow a famous father, And him I must keep in mind; Though his form is gone, I must carry on The name that he left behind.

It was mine on the day he gave it, It shone as a monarch's crown, And as fair to see as it came to me It must be when I pa.s.s it down.

The Important Thing

He was playing in the garden when we called him in for tea, But he didn't seem to hear us, so I went out there to see What the little rogue was up to, and I stooped and asked him why, When he heard his mother calling, he had made her no reply.

”I am playing war,” he told me, ”and I'm up against defeat, And until I stop the Germans I can't take the time to eat.”

”Isn't supper so important that you'll quit your round of play?

Don't you want to eat the shortcake mother made for you to-day?”

Then I asked him, but he answered as he shook his little head: ”I don't dare to stop for shortcake, if I do they'll kill me dead!

When I drive them from their trenches, then to supper I'll come in, But I mustn't stop a minute, 'cause this war I've got to win.”

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