Success

I'd rather be a Could Be
    If I could not be an Are;
For a Could Be is a May Be,
    With a chance of touching par.
I'd rather be a Has Been
    Than a Might Have Been, by far;
For a Might Have Been has never been,
    But a Has was once an Are.

Unknown

The identity of this poet is not known. Their works, which are often of significant historical or cultural value, have been attributed to 'Unknown'. This designation is commonly used when the creator of works, ranging from ancient texts to more modern writings, remains anonymous or uncredited. Despite the lack of personal details, the impact and importance of these works endure, offering insight into the eras and cultures from which they originated.

Unknown

Nursery Rhyme. CCC. Games.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. DLXXXIX. Natural History.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. D. Natural History.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Spring

Unknown , Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

It Might Have Been

We will be what we could be.    Do not say,
    "It might have been, had not or that, or this."
No fate can keep us from the chosen way;
    He only might, who IS.

We will do what we could do.    Do not dream
    Chance leaves a hero, all uncrowned to grieve.
I hold, all men are greatly what they seem;
    He does, who could achieve.

We will climb where we could climb.    Tell me not
    Of adverse storms that kept thee from the height.
What eagle ever missed the peak he sought?
    He always climbs who might.

I do not like the phrase, "It might have been!"
    It lacks all force, and life's best truths perverts
For I believe we have, and reach, and win,
    Whatever our deserts.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

It Might Have Been.

We will be what we could be. Do not say,
    "It might have been, had not or that, or this."
No fate can keep us from the chosen way;
        He only might, who is.

We will do what we could do. Do not dream
    Chance leaves a hero, all uncrowned to grieve.
I hold, all men are greatly what they seem;
        He does, who could achieve.

We will climb where we could climb. Tell me not
    Of adverse storms that kept thee from the height.
What eagle ever missed the peak he sought?
        He always climbs who might.

I do not like the phrase, "It might have been!"
    It lacks all force, and life's best truths perverts:
For I believe we have, and reach, and win,
        Whatever our deserts.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Failure.

There are some souls
Whose lot it is to set their hearts on goals
That adverse Fate controls.

While others win
With little labor through life's dust and din,
And lord-like enter in

Immortal gates;
And, of Success the high-born intimates,
Inherit Fame's estates. . .

Why is't the lot
Of merit oft to struggle and yet not
Attain? to toil for what?

Simply to know
The disappointment, the despair and woe
Of effort here below?

Ambitious still to reach
Those lofty peaks, which men aspiring preach,
For which their souls beseech:

Those heights that swell
Remote, removed, and unattainable,
Pinnacle on pinnacle:

Still yearning to attain
Their far repose, above life's stress and strain,
But all in ...

Madison Julius Cawein

Success

As we gaze up life's slope, as we gaze
    In the morn, ere the dewdrops are dry,
What splendour hangs over the ways,
    What glory gleams there in the sky,
    What pleasures seem waiting us, high
On the peak of that beauteous slope,
What rainbow-hued colours of hope,
    As we gaze!

As we climb up the hill, as we climb,
    Our hearts, our illusions, are rent:
For Fate, who is spouse of old Time,
    Is jealous of youth and content.
    With brows that are brooding and bent
She shadows our sunlight of gold,
And the way grows lonely and cold
    As we climb.

As we toil on, through trouble and pain,
    There are hands that will shelter and feed;
But once let us dare to ATTAIN -
    They will bruise our bare hearts till they bleed.<...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Has Been

That melancholy phrase "It might have been,"
    However sad, doth in its heart enfold
    A hidden germ of promise! for I hold
WHATEVER MIGHT HAVE BEEN SHALL BE.
    Though in
Some other realm and life, the soul must win
    The goal that erst was possible.    But cold
    And cruel as the sound of frozen mould
Dropped on a coffin, are the words "Has been."

"She has been beautiful" -"he has been great,"
    "Rome has been powerful," we sigh and say.
    It is the pitying crust we toss decay,
The dirge we breathe o'er some degenerate state,
An epitaph for fame's unburied dead.
God pity those who live to hear it said!

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Success.

Oft have I brooded on defeat and pain,
The pathos of the stupid, stumbling throng.
These I ignore to-day and only long
To pour my soul forth in one trumpet strain,
One clear, grief-shattering, triumphant song,
For all the victories of man's high endeavor,
Palm-bearing, laureled deeds that live forever,
The splendor clothing him whose will is strong.
Hast thou beheld the deep, glad eyes of one
Who has persisted and achieved?    Rejoice!
On naught diviner shines the all-seeing sun.
Salute him with free heart and choral voice,
'Midst flippant, feeble crowds of spectres wan,
The bold, significant, successful man.

Emma Lazarus