Grit.

I hate the fellow who sits around
    And knocks the livelong day--
Who tells of the work he might have done;
    If things had come his way.
But I love the fellow who pushes ahead
    And smiles at his work or play--
You can wager when things do come around,
    They will come his way--and stay.

Edwin C. Ranck

Edwin C. Ranck was an American lyricist noted for his work in the early 20th century. He was a prolific writer and his lyrics were often characterized by their humor and wit. One of his standout works is the poem 'The Optimist', which reflects his positive outlook on life. Beyond that, little is known about his personal life or career. He remains a somewhat obscure figure in literary history.

Edwin C. Ranck

The Circus.

Edwin C. Ranck, Simple Poetry

Alas.

Edwin C. Ranck, Simple Poetry

To A Child At Christmas Time.

Edwin C. Ranck, Simple Poetry

The War Of The Rats And Mice.

Edwin C. Ranck, Simple Poetry

English

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Keep Tryin'.

When you're feelin' blue as ink
    An' your spirits 'gin to sink,
Don't be weak an' take a drink
    But
    Keep Tryin'.

There are times when all of us
    Get riled up and start a muss,
But there ain't no use to cuss,
    Just
    Keep Tryin'.

When things seem to go awry,
    And the sun deserts your sky,
Don't sit down somewhere and cry,
    But
    Keep Tryin'.

Everybody honors grit,
    Men who never whine a bit--
Men who tell the world, "I'm IT"
    And
    Keep Tryin'.

Get a hustle on you NOW,
    Make a great, big solemn vow
That you'll win out anyhow,
    And
    Keep Tryin'.

All the world's a battlefield
    Where the true man is revealed,
But the ones who never yie...

Edwin C. Ranck

The Prospector

Where the ragged, snow-capped saw tooth
    Cuts the azure of the sky
And watches o'er the lonely land
    As ages wander by;
Where the sentinel pines in grandeur
    Murmur to the glacier stream
As it, ice-gorged, gluts the canyon,
    Never brightened by the gleam
Of sun at brightest noon day,
    Nor moon of Arctic night,
And whose only link with Heaven
    Is the fitful Northern Light.
Where the Whistler shrills in triumph
    And the Big Horn dreams in peace,
Where the Brown Bear skulks to cover
    Up where silence holds the lease;
Where the land is as God left it
    Nor has known the tread of man,
There's a treasure ledge a-waiting--
    Go and find it if you can.

If your heart be steeled to triumph
    Nor beats less at ...

Pat O'Cotter

The Winners

What the moral? Who rides may read.
When the night is thick and the tracks are blind
A friend at a pinch is a friend, indeed,
But a fool to wait for the laggard behind.
Down to Gehenna or up to the Throne,
He travels the fastest who travels alone.

White hands cling to the tightened rein,
Slipping the spur from the booted heel,
Tenderest voices cry "Turn again!"
Red lips tarnish the scabbarded steel,
High hopes faint on a warm hearth-stone,
He travels the fastest who travels alone.

One may fall but he falls by himself,
Falls by himself with himself to blame.
One may attain and to him is pelf,
Loot of the city in Gold or Fame.
Plunder of earth shall be all his own
Who travels the fastest and travels alone.

Wherefore the more ye be hel...

Rudyard

Missed his Mark.

Aw like fowrk to succeed i' life if they've an honest aim,
An even if they chonce to trip awm varry loath to blame;
Its sich a simple thing sometimes maks failure or success,
Th' prize oft slips by strugglin men to them 'at's striven less.
Aw envy nubdy Fortun's smiles, aw lang for 'em misen, -
But them at win her favors should dispense 'em nah an then.
An them 'at's blest wi' sunshine let 'em think o' those i'th' dark,
An nivver grudge a helpin hand to him 'at's missed his mark.

We connot allus hit it, - an ther's monny a toilin brain,
Has struggled for a lifetime, but its efforts proved in vain;
An monny a hardy son ov toil has worn his life away,
An all his efforts proved in vain to keep poverty at bay;
Wol others, bi a lucky stroke, have carved ther way to fame,
An...

John Hartley

Trying

The dream of the white man ever goes out
    To the fight that can never be won,
And ever he plans to do the things
    That they say can never be done.
It's seldom he values the things that are
    What he craves he may never gain,
Yet ever he tries, till the day he dies
    And then feels he has lived in vain.

He climbs to the top of the highest hills
    To search out the vales afar;
He bedrocks a hole on the deepest creeks
    He hitches his cart to a star.
He's ever the first in the far stampede
    As he chases the rainbow's blend,
But it's not the need, and it's not the greed,
    It's the wanting to win in the end.

And whether he strives in the lofty range
    Or tries in the crowded mart,
The longing to do what has never been don...

Pat O'Cotter

Things Worth While.

To sit and dream in a shady nook
While the phantom clouds roll by;
To con some long-remembered book
When the pulse of youth beats high.

To thrill when the dying sunset glows
Through the heart of a mystic wood,
To drink the sweetness of some wild rose,
And to find the whole world good.

To bring unto others joy and mirth,
And keep what friends you can;
To learn that the rarest gift on earth
Is the love of your fellow man.

To hold the respect of those you know,
To scorn dishonest pelf;
To sympathize with another's woe,
And just be true to yourself.

To find that a woman's honest love
In this great world of strife
Gleams steadfast like a star, above
The dark morass of life.

To feel a baby's clinging hand,
To wa...

Edwin C. Ranck