You may be ill and you may be sore With aches and bruises and pains galore; Perhaps you are groggy, and halt and lame, But keep right on, for it's all a game Where like as not you are booked to win Right now, in spite of the shape you're in. Your brain is weary, your thoughts are dead, Each step is heavy as lifting lead; The sun is under a passing cloud; Don't let them measure you for a shroud, But hang on now though it may be hard, For your next hand holds the winning card. If you have played at a losing game Until the colors all look the same, You'll feel more joy when your luck has turned, And look on life, which you may have spurned, Through eyes that glow with the glory light That comes from winning an uphill fight. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE JAIN BIRD HOSPITAL IN DELHI by WILLIAM MEREDITH CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING by HAYDEN CARRUTH CHRISTMAS AT INDIAN POINT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DOMESDAY BOOK: AT NICE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS WEDDING BED IN MANGKUTANA by KAREN SWENSON THE DYING DECADENT by LOUIS UNTERMEYER |