If ['Twixt What Thou Art, And What Thou Wouldst Be, Let]

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Title:     If ['Twixt What Thou Art, And What Thou Wouldst Be, Let]
Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox [More Titles by Wilcox]

'Twixt what thou art, and what thou wouldst be, let
No "If" arise on which to lay the blame.
Man makes a mountain of that puny word,
But, like a blade of grass before the scythe,
It falls and withers when a human will,
Stirred by creative force, sweeps toward its aim.

Thou wilt be what thou couldst be. Circumstance
Is but the toy of genius. When a soul
Burns with a god-like purpose to achieve,
All obstacles between it and its goal
Must vanish as the dew before the sun.

"If" is the motto of the dilettante
And idle dreamer; 'tis the poor excuse
Of mediocrity. The truly great
Know not the word, or know it but to scorn,
Else had Joan of Arc a peasant died,
Uncrowned by glory and by men unsung.

[The end]
Ella Wheeler Wilcox's poem: If ['twixt What Thou Art, And What Thou Wouldst Be, Let]

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