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It Can Be Done

by Joseph Morris and St. Clair Adams

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Can’t

A great, achieving soul will not clog itself with a cowardly thought or a cowardly watchword. Cardinal Richelieu in Bulwer-Lytton’s play declares:

“In the lexicon of youth, which fate reserves
  For a bright manhood, there is no such word
  As ‘fail.’”

“Impossible,” Napoleon is quoted as saying, “is a word found only in the dictionary of fools.”

Can’t is the worst word that’s written or spoken;
    Doing more harm here than slander and lies;
  On it is many a strong spirit broken,
    And with it many a good purpose dies.
  It springs from the lips of the thoughtless each morning
    And robs us of courage we need through the day:
  It rings in our ears like a timely-sent warning
    And laughs when we falter and fall by the way.

Can’t is the father of feeble endeavor,
    The parent of terror and half-hearted work;
  It weakens the efforts of artisans clever,
    And makes of the toiler an indolent shirk.
  It poisons the soul of the man with a vision,
    It stifles in infancy many a plan;
  It greets honest toiling with open derision
    And mocks at the hopes and the dreams of a man.

Can’t is a word none should speak without blushing;
    To utter it should be a symbol of shame;
  Ambition and courage it daily is crushing;
    It blights a man’s purpose and shortens his aim.
  Despise it with all of your hatred of error;
    Refuse it the lodgment it seeks in your brain;
  Arm against it as a creature of terror,
    And all that you dream of you some day shall gain.

Can’t is the word that is foe to ambition,
    An enemy ambushed to shatter your will;
  Its prey is forever the man with a mission
    And bows but to courage and patience and skill.
  Hate it, with hatred that’s deep and undying,
    For once it is welcomed ’twill break any man;
  Whatever the goal you are seeking, keep trying
    And answer this demon by saying: “I can.”

Edgar A. Guest.

From “A Heap o’ Livin’.”

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