Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble’s a ton, or a trouble’s an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it.
And it isn’t the fact that you’re hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it?
You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what’s that?
Come up with a smiling face.
It’s nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there -- that’s disgrace.
The harder you’re thrown, why the higher you bounce;
Be proud of your blackened eye!
It isn’t the fact that you’re licked that counts;
It’s how did you fight and why?
And though you be done to death, what then?
If you battled the best you could;
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the Critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he’s slow or spry,
It isn’t the fact that you’re dead that counts,
But only, how did you die?
Dave,
You and I are working at slightly different levels...
I am going to a Dora the Explorer concert this afternoon with my 2 1/2 year old grand daughter - she is the big influence in my life right now. Here is one of our current fav's, although the alphabet and counting to ten is right up there. She also likes, "These Boots Are Made for Walkin'" but doesn't have all of the verses yet...
The eeensy, weeensy spider
Went up the water spout...
Down came the rain,
And washed the spider out!!
Up came the sun,
And dried up all the rain
And the eensy, weensy spider
Went up the spout again!!
There are hand and body movements for the above but I don't have them mastered yet - she is teaching me tho [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/smirk.gif[/img] [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/laugh.gif[/img]
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
" 'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;
Only this, and nothing more."
One of my motivators:
"And nothing to look backward on with pride,
And nothing to look forward to with hope."
-Robert Frost, The Death of the Hired Man
With my children and now my grand children:
I looked out the window and what did I see?
Popcorn popping on the apricote tree!
Spring had brought me a nice supprise,
Popcorn popping right before my eyes!
I could take an armful and maka treat
A popcorn ball that would smell so sweet
I'm not a pheasant plucker
I'm a pheasant plucker's son
I'm only plucking pheasants
till the pheasant plucking done.
as i awoke this morning
the room was calm and still
there was a little Robin
upon my window sill
it sang so sweetly
as i climbed from off my bed
and then i closed the window
and crushed its flaming head.
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