Thanks, grey_whiskers.
Posted on 03/20/2011 6:16:53 AM PDT by grey_whiskers
If
If you can keep your smile when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But feel superior because OF their doubting too;
If you can claim you are the one for whom we're waiting,
Or, throw others under the bus, yet deal in lies,
Or, watch Reverend Wright for twenty years and not see hating,
And keep cred both in the 'hood, and midst the wise;
If you can Dream - with a book "Dreams From My Father";
But writing for Harvard Law Review just seems so lame;
If showing your birth certificate's too much bother
(It matters not -- an impostor's all the same!)
If you can bear to hear the words you've spoken
Defended by knaves like Gibbs and other tools,
Or gape when the teleprompter that you read from's broken,
And stutter and stammer like a million fools;
If you can make an ash-heap of your electoral winnings
High oil prices and millions of jobs lost,
And act like you are still at the beginning
And push through Health Care like you are the boss;
If you can force your Democratic caucus
To serve your turn long after their majority's gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in it
Except the Will which says to them: "I Won";
If you can talk with Crowds and keep your Virtue,
Then walk with kings - but claim a common touch!
If neither Fox News nor Sarah Palin can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none for much;
If oil spills, war, and natural disasters
Seem just the time for a round of golf or two--
Yours is the Power and the Kingdom and the Glory,
And - what is more - you'll be Obama too!
Velvet paws indeed!!
Fresh birdcage liner!
The very smoothest of velvet paws...well done!
If only.
Can America get a mulligan on 2008?
For those not familiar with the original:
“IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
‘ Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And - which is more - you’ll be a Man, my son!”
Rudyard Kipling -1910
Is it just coincidence, or were the 2010 elections on the Centennial anniversary of that poem (100 years later)?
Cheers!
Cute, but it doesn’t look like anything *my* catz typed.
recovering English major bump
OMG! That means my kitteh has a ghost-writer -- she's been *lying* to me. I never thought of that!
Or you have a superior cat. Mine are from the Humane Society.
I’ve learned that you can download a lot of free books to an Android phone. I’ve had great delight in reading the Second Jungle Book, plus reading aloud the Just So Stories while traveling in a car with young children.
Kipling truly was an amazing observer & writer!
Really well done! (sound of clapping)
Thanks, grey_whiskers.
Very cute.
Excellent contrast between the two.
The Power Of The Dog
There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and sisters I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie
Perfect passion an worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Never the less it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.
When the fourteen years which nature permits
Are closing in asthma or tumor or fits,
And the vet's unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find—it's your own affair—
But.... you've given your heart to a dog to tear.
When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still)
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone-— where ever it goes—for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.
We've sorrow enough in the natural way
When it comes to burying Christian clay,
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we've kept ‘em, the more we do grieve.
For when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short time loan is as bad as a long—
So why in Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?
Here's another poem, from a dog's point of view, by G.K. Chesterton.
The Song of Quoodle
a poem by G.K.Chesterton
They haven't got no noses,
The fallen sons of Eve;
Even the smell of roses
Is not what they supposes;
But more than mind discloses
And more than men believe.
They haven't got no noses,
They cannot even tell
When door and darkness closes
The park a Jew encloses,
Where even the law of Moses
Will let you steal a smell.
The brilliant smell of water,
The brave smell of a stone,
The smell of dew and thunder,
The old bones buried under,
Are things in which they blunder
And err, if left alone.
The wind from winter forests,
The scent of scentless flowers,
The breath of brides' adorning,
The smell of snare and warning,
The smell of Sunday morning,
God gave to us for ours
* * *
And Quoodle here discloses
All things that Quoodle can,
They haven't got no noses,
They haven't got no noses,
And goodness only knowses
The Noselessness of Man.
Cheers!
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