by Edgar Albert Guest






It Couldn't Be Done



Somebody said that it couldn't be done,
 But he with a chuckle replied
That "maybe it couldn't," but he would be one
 Who wouldn't say so till he'd tried.
So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin
On his face.  If he worried he hid it.
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
 That couldn't be done, and he did it.

Somebody scoffed: "Oh, you'll never do that;
 At least no one ever has done it";
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat,
 And the first thing we knew he'd begun it.
With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
 Without any doubting or quiddit,
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
 That couldn't be done, and he did it.

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
 There are thousands to prophesy failure;
There are thousands to point out to you, one by one,
 The dangers that wait to assail you.
But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,
 Just take off your coat and go to it;
Just start to sing as you tackle the thing
 That "cannot be done," and you'll do it.

 

 

 

 





Poetry by Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 1082 times
Written on 2012-11-29 at 20:28

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text


josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
When I was younger there was an early morning radio program hoasted by Bud Guest, the poet's son. Bud used to read his dad's poems on air. I enjoyed them then. This one brings back all those pleasant memories.
2012-11-30