Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PLAUDITS FOR THOSE WHO FAIL, by THOMAS STEPHEN


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PLAUDITS FOR THOSE WHO FAIL, by                    
First Line: Reserve your plaudits for the man
Last Line: God bless them for what they endure.
Subject(s): Courage; Failure; Heroism; Poverty; Valor; Bravery; Heroes; Heroines


Reserve your plaudits for the man
Who tries hard, keeps clean and fails,
Although he be an honest artesan,
But lacks the courage, when assailed,
To fight for his rights, defy the ban,
Refuses to follow dishonored trails,
Or be brutish, because he is a gentleman.

How often such a man is pushed aside,
By a competitor who by brute force,
Though less an artesan, and beside
Helped by priestly pull and coerce,
Was placed on the job and is astride
The coveted position and, of course,
Flaunts his gain with malicious pride.

While he who fails, falls to the earth
Crushed by defeat, time and time again.
'Tis no dishonor, when one has the worth,
To be set aside and with hate refrain,
Sure of his ability and labor's dearth,
So hope buoys him up again to obtain—
A coveted job for him,—without mirth.

Gloom has set its seal,—face in strife,
He asks not for riches, only a chance—
To work for an honest living and life,
And to his devoted family to enhance
Their esteem, where love of home is rife,
Though humble to him of great expanse
Cherishing the love of children and wife.

It is no dishonor to be knocked down
If one jumps up before the count of ten,
Smiling at each defeat without frown,
Making his character valiant then—
Each rebuff makes stronger to atone,
As he surveys his "What might have been"—
Almost starving,—he wanders all alone.

At last our good hero gains his goal
As he settles down in his new found job,
Joy, happiness, attending on this shoal
Of life's struggling tides:—the idle mobs
Who surge here and there, with the dole,
Changing dogmas and laws like a plumb bob—
Holds straight to the line, misery untold.
Alas! our good hero, nature set in to rob
His family, matters not how we condole,
Bending o'er him his dear ones sobbing
As the church bell did slowly dolefully toll,
As his dear wife prayed—her heart throbbing—
For the repose and love of his immortal soul.

Such, the simple annals of the poor,
God bless them for what they endure.





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