{"id":69,"date":"2020-01-23T12:59:00","date_gmt":"2020-01-23T12:59:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/2020\/01\/23\/a-poem-for-thursday-66\/"},"modified":"2020-10-26T20:54:31","modified_gmt":"2020-10-26T20:54:31","slug":"a-poem-for-thursday-66","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/2020\/01\/23\/a-poem-for-thursday-66\/","title":{"rendered":"A Poem for a Thursday #66"},"content":{"rendered":"\n\n\n\n
<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
Photo by\u00a0<\/span>Kalen Emsley<\/a>\u00a0on\u00a0<\/span>Unsplash<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

Robert Service was born in England, grew up in Scotland, and sailed for the Yukon Wilderness in 1894. He was a prolific poet and became known as the “bard of the Yukon. He was a correspondent during the Balkan Wars for the Toronto Star <\/i>and an ambulance driver during World War I. His rhythmic, story-telling poetry was very popular.<\/p>\n

When you’re lost in the Wild, and you’re scared as a child<\/i>
\nAnd Death looks you bang in the eye,<\/i>
\nAnd you’re sore as a boil, it’s according to Hoyle<\/i>
\nTo cock your revolver and…die.<\/i>
\nBut the Code of a Man says:\u00a0 “Fight if you can,”<\/i>
\nAnd self-dissolution is barred.<\/i>
\nIn hunger and woe, oh, it’s easy to blow…<\/i>
\nIt’s the hell-served-for-breakfast that’s hard.<\/i>
\n
\n<\/i>
\n“You’re sick of the game!” Well, now, that’s a shame.<\/i>
\nYou’re young and you’re brave and you’re bright.<\/i>
\n“You’ve had a raw deal! I know–but don’t squeal,<\/i>
\nBuck up, do your damnedest, and fight.<\/i>
\nIt’s the plugging away that will win you the day,<\/i>
\nSo don’t be a piker, old pard!<\/i>
\nJust draw on your grit; it’s so easy to quit:<\/i>
\nIt’s the keeping-your-chin-up that’s hard.<\/i>
\n
\n<\/i>
\nIt’s easy to cry that you’re beaten–and die;<\/i>
\nIt’s easy to crawfish and crawl;<\/i>
\nBut to fight and to fight when hope’s out of sight–<\/i>
\nWhy, that’s the best game of all!<\/i>
\nAnd though you come out of each grueling bout,<\/i>
\nAll broken and beaten and scarred,<\/i>
\nJust have one more try–it’s dead easy to die,<\/i>
\nIt’s the keeping-on-living that’s hard.<\/i>
\n
\n<\/i>
\nThe Quitter<\/i>
\nRobert Service<\/p>\n

Reese <\/a>has an Emily Dickinson poem this week.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Photo by\u00a0Kalen Emsley\u00a0on\u00a0Unsplash Robert Service was born in England, grew up in Scotland, and sailed for the Yukon Wilderness in 1894. He was a prolific poet and became known as the “bard of the Yukon. He was a correspondent during the Balkan Wars for the Toronto Star and an ambulance driver during World War I. His rhythmic, story-telling poetry was very popular. When you’re lost in the Wild, and you’re scared as a child And Death looks you bang in the eye, And you’re sore as a boil, it’s according to Hoyle To cock your revolver and…die. But the Code of a Man says:\u00a0 “Fight if you can,” And self-dissolution is barred. In hunger and woe, oh, it’s easy to blow… It’s the hell-served-for-breakfast that’s hard. “You’re sick of the game!” Well, now, that’s a shame. You’re young and you’re brave and you’re bright. “You’ve had a raw deal! I know–but don’t squeal, Buck up, do your damnedest, and fight. It’s the plugging away that will win you the day, So don’t be a piker, old pard! Just draw on your grit; it’s so easy to quit: It’s the keeping-your-chin-up that’s hard. It’s easy to cry that you’re beaten–and die; It’s easy to crawfish and crawl; But to fight and to fight when hope’s out of sight– Why, that’s the best game of all! And though you come out of each grueling bout, All broken and beaten and scarred, Just have one more try–it’s dead easy to die, It’s the keeping-on-living that’s hard. The Quitter Robert Service Reese has an Emily Dickinson poem this week.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1795,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-69","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poem-for-a-thursday"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/69","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=69"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/69\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2526,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/69\/revisions\/2526"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1795"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=69"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=69"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=69"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}