These poems about worry tell us that worrying doesn’t fix anything, it just makes it worse. Worry, fear, stress are often out of our control and it becomes difficult to avoid them, so it is better to keep yourself busy or go to a place that provides peace of mind. Here are some poems to avoid anxiety that may help you avoid this situation.
Shouldn’t Worry So
Do Not Worry
Poet: Charles F. Deems
The world is wide
In time and tide.
And God is guide;
Then do not hurry.
That man is blest
Who does his best
And leaves the rest;
Then do not worry.
Not Work, But Worry
It is not the work, but the worry.
That wrinkles the smooth, fair face;
That blends gray hair with the dusky
And robs the form of its grace;
That dims the luster and sparkle
Of eyes that were once so bright.
But now are heavy and troubled,
With a weary, despondent light
It is not the work, but the worry,
That drives all sleep away;
As we toss and turn and wonder
About the cares of the day,
Do we think of the hands’ hard labor
Or the steps of the tired feet?
Ah, no! but we plan and ponder
How both ends can be made to meet.
It is not the work, but the worry,
That makes us sober and sad;
That makes us narrow and sordid
When we should be merry and glad.
There’s a shadow before the sunlight,
And even a cloud in the blue;
The scent of the roses is tainted,
The notes of the song are untrue.
It is not the work, but the worry,
That makes the world grow old;
That numbers the years of its children
Ere half the story is told;
That weakens their faith in Heaven
And the wisdom of God’s great plan.
Ah, ’tis not the work, but the worry,
That breaks the heart of man!
Take It Easy
Do not worry, do not fret,
Time will pass and we’ll forget
All the problems of the present
In a future far more pleasant.
Grief will go and joy will come;
For you and I life’s just begun.
A smile of joy, a sigh of bliss
To be sure we’ll never miss
With our head held high,
And keep our eyes opened wide,
We’ll go along, taking things in stride
And never let our courage die!
by Sir John Lubbock
We often distress ourselves greatly in the
apprehension of misfortune which
after all never happens at all.
We should do our best, and wait calmly the result,
We often hear of people breaking down from overwork;
but in nine cases out of ten they are really
suffering from worry or anxiety.
Somehow Or Other
Life has a burden for every man’s shoulder,
None may escape from its trouble and care;
Miss it in youth and ’twill come when we’re older,
And fit us as close as the garments we wear.
Sorrow comes into our lives uninvited,
Robbing our hearts of their treasures of song;
Lovers grow cold, and friendships are slighted,
Yet somehow or other we worry along.
Every-day toil is an every-day blessing,
Though poverty’s cottage and crust we may share;
Weak is the back on which burdens are pressing,
But stout is the heart that is strengthened by prayer.
Somehow or other the pathway grows brighter
Just when we mourn there were none to befriend;
Hope in the heart makes the burdens seem lighter,
And somehow or other we get to the end.
Do Not Look For Troubler
Poet: Mark Gut Pearse
Do not trouble trouble
Till trouble troubles you.
Do not look for trouble;
Let trouble look for you.
Do not borrow sorrow;
You’ll surely have your share.
He who dreams of sorrow
Will find that sorrow’s there.
Do not hurry worry
By worrying lest it come.
To flurry is to worry;
‘Twill miss you if you’re mum.
If care you’ve got to carry,
Wait till it’s at the door;
For he who runs to meet it
Takes up the load before.
If minding- will not mend it,
Then better not to mind;
The best thing- is to end it —
Just leave it all behind.
Who feareth hath forsaken
The heavenly Father’s side;
What He hath undertaken
He surely will provide.
The very birds reprove thee,
With all their happy song;
The very flowers teach thee,
That fretting is a wrong.
“Cheer up!” the sparrow chirpeth;
“Thy Father feedeth me;
Think how much more he careth,
O lonely child, for thee!”
“Fear not,” the flowers whisper;
“Since thus he hath arrayed
The buttercups and daisy,
How canst thou be afraid?”
Then do not trouble trouble
Till trouble troubles you;
You’ll only trouble trouble,
And trouble others, too.
The End Will Tell
Poet: B. L. Austin
What if you’ve made mistakes in life?
Don’t hang your head in sorrow,
But profit by the lesson learned,
And better make tomorrow.
There’s no one who can boast of none,
Philosopher or prophet.
All you can do is to do your best;
When you see you’re wrong, then stop it.
If you should find you’re in a fault,
And the devil keeps a grinding,
Just shake him off and fix it up,
And thank God for the finding.
When others think they see your faults,
Your soul enough to sink it,
And you are sure you’re in the right,
Keep still and let them think it.
Keep close to Jesus; let him break
Each selfish band asunder.
Some day the battle you will win
While they look on with wonder.
The battle is the Lord’s, not yours;
Then give him all the glory.
Stand firm as steel and do not fear;
He’ll win it- — don’t you worry.
So trudge along though none may know
Your worth or give you glory;
To start out brisk don’t win the race;
The end will tell the story.
The Empty Lives
So many die that have not lived at all;
It is as though they journeyed through the years
Upon a path hedged by a gloomy wall
Of other people’s little frets and fears.
Beyond the wall the joyous fields stretch out
And there are little paths to lure the feet,
But duty framed by others of their doubt
Has made them feel the by-paths are not meet.
To spend their days with friends they did not choose;
They toil at tasks unfitted for their hands;
They join the chorus of them that abuse
The one who lives — because he understands;
They sing the songs the others bid them sing.
While in their souls are stifled marvel strains;
They build and they destroy, they fetch and bring;
They fume of petty losses and of gains.
They count as truth the rote that they are told.
They spurn as lies whatever they are bid;
They ban as heretic the overbold
The one who would uncover what is hid,
And they succeed — they say they have success
And call another careless, blind, and weak
Who finds the joy they may not even guess,
Who reaches goals they may not even
What if some dazzling outburst of the light
Should show them how supremely far they miss
The core of life, the lasting truth and right?
But Fate is kind, and does not deal them this.
It is as though they plodded through dead years
Upon a path hedged by a barren wall
Of other people’s little frets and fears —
So many die, and have not lived at all.
He Knoweth Your Need
Poet: S. B. McManus
I would not worry, if I were you;
The days will come, and the days will go,
And anon the sky will be gray or blue,
And the earth be covered with flowers or snow,
The sun will shine or the rain will fall,
But God stands over and under all.
Some days will be dark, with scarcely a sign
That God ever gave you a loving thought;
And his face will be hid with his love benign,
And your soul lie prone with a flght ill fought;
And life will seem empty of every joy —
A worthless bauble, a broken toy.
But I would not worry, if I were you;
It will all come right, pretty soon, depend;
The rain will cease and the sky grow blue,
And God to your heart will kindly send
His message of love — and by and by
You will wonder why you should be sad and cry.
Bide close to the Father, let come what may;
Reach out for his hand in rain or shine:
He will turn your night into sweetest day
And share his bounty of love divine.
He never forgets for a single day;
Why need, then, to fret and worry alway?
A Sovereign Remedy
Poet: John Kendrick Bangs
When, tossing on my couch at night,
Old Worry comes my rest to ruin,
I stare at him with all my might
And tell him that “There’s nothin’ doin’.”
“I’m very busy now,” I say.
“To put you off fills me with sorrow;
But you must come some other day
Say ten o’clock, perhaps, tomorrow?”
I find that by this style of chaffing
It isn’t long before I’m laughing
And when he sees my smiling lips
Why then, of course, old Worry skips.
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