Most days, I feel so beaten and tired about life. I can't help but feel depressed and exhausted of all the things I can't and didn't do and failed to achieve. When things get rough, this poem really helps me. This is not mine. This is written by Edmund Vance Cooke. I hope this will help you as well as it helped me.
HOW DID YOU DIE?
Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
With 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 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 a 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 the 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?
Edmund Vance Cooke!
Hope you're having a great day!
