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Poem: “If” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Poems of Power

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American LiteratureAmerican PoetryElla Wheeler WilcoxPoems by Ella Wheeler WilcoxPoems of Power
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If


’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.


< < < Sorrow’s Uses
Which Are You? > > >

American LiteratureAmerican PoetryElla Wheeler WilcoxPoems by Ella Wheeler WilcoxPoems of Power


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