A Rose to the Living and Other Nixon Waterman Poems Explained

One day, in huckleberry-time, when little Johnny Wales
And half-a-dozen other boys were starting with their pails
To gather berries, Johnny’s pa, in talking with him, said
That he could tell him how to pick so he’d come out ahead.

“First find your bush,” said Johnny’s pa, “and then stick to it till
You’ve picked it clean. Let those go chasing all about who will
In search of better bushes, but it’s picking tells, my son;
To look at fifty bushes doesn’t count like picking one.”

And Johnny did as he was told, and, sure enough, he found
By sticking to his bush while all the others chased around
In search of better picking, it was as his father said;
For while the others looked, he worked, and thus came out ahead.

And Johnny recollected this when he became a man,
And first of all he laid him out a well-determined plan;
So, while the brilliant triflers failed with all their brains and push,
Wise, steady-going Johnny won by “sticking to his bush.”

“If I’d ‘a’ been born,” says Sy Slocum to me,
“In some other far-away clime,
Or if I could ‘a’ had my existence,” says he,
“In some other long-ago time,
I know I’d ‘a’ flourished in pretty fine style
And set folks a-talkin’, I ‘low,
But what troubles me is there’s nothin’ worth while
A-doin’ right here and just now.”

“Them folks that can dwell in a country,” says Sy,
“Where they don’t have no winter nor storm,
And the weather ain’t ready to freeze ’em or fry,
By gettin’ too cold or too warm,
Have got all the time that they want to sit down
And think out a project so great
That it’s just about certain to win ’em renown
And bring ’em success while they wait.”

Says Sy, “Folks a-livin’ here ages ago,
Before all the chances had flown
For makin’ a hit, wouldn’t stand any show
To-day at a-holdin’ their own.
Good times will come back to our planet, I ‘low,
When I’ve faded out of the scene;
But it hurts me to think that right here and just now
Is a sorry betwixt and between.”

At that I got tired a-hearin’ Sy spout,
And says I, “Sy, you like to enthuse
Regardin’ the marvelous work you’d turn out
If you stood in some other man’s shoes;
But while all your ‘might-‘a’-been’ praises you sing,
It’s worth while recallin’ as how
That no man on earth ever does the first thing
That he can’t do right here and just now!”

Say “I will!” and then stick to it—
That’s the only way to do it.
Don’t build up a while and then
Tear the whole thing down again.
Fix the goal you wish to gain,
Then go at it heart and brain,
And, though clouds shut out the blue,
Do not dim your purpose true
With your sighing.
Stand erect, and, like a man,
Know “They can who think they can!”
Keep a-trying.

Had Columbus, half seas o’er,
Turned back to his native shore,
Men would not, to-day, proclaim
Round the world his deathless name.
So must we sail on with him
Past horizons far and dim,
Till at last we own the prize
That belongs to him who tries
With faith undying;
Own the prize that all may win
Who, with hope, through thick and thin,
Keep a-trying.

The world will buy largely of any one who
Can deliver the goods.
It is ready and eager to barter if you
Can deliver the goods.
But don’t take its order and make out the bill
Unless you are sure you’ll be able to fill
Your contract, because it won’t pay you until
You deliver the goods.

The world rears its loftiest shafts to the men
Who deliver the goods.
With plow, lever, brush, hammer, sword, or with pen
They deliver the goods.
And while we their eloquent epitaphs scan
That say in the world’s work they stood in the van,
We know that the meaning is, “Here lies a man
Who delivered the goods.”

And rude or refined be your wares, still be sure
To deliver the goods.
Though a king or a clown, still remember that you’re
To deliver the goods.
If you find you are called to the pulpit to preach,
To the grain-fields to till, to the forum to teach;
Be you poet or porter, remember that each
Must deliver the goods.