The Thing was gone; its work was done; a lump of lifeless clay
Sat crouching, crouching, crouching in the dawning of the day;
The frozen eyeballs stared upon a wilderness of snow,
And peered into the future, to the Place no man may know.
A she-wolf prowled about the spot, and sniffed below the sleigh,
And howled a melancholy howl, and slunk in fear away.
Feelin' kind of all run down?
Mighty bad:
Sick and tired o' life in town?
Don't be sad:
What you're needing isn't rest:
Square your shoulders, raise your chest;
Pack your turkey; go out West—
Just be glad!
Gone astray in No-Man's-Land?
Silly lad!
Ought to have your carcass tanned
With a gad:
Should ha' kept the narrow track:
Never mind, you can't go back;
Things may not be quite so black—
Just be glad!
Gone and blown in all your cash
On a fad?
Livin' now on soup and hash?
Writin' Dad?
Don't you do it. Here's a tip;
Keep a good stiff upper lip;
Needn't fall because you slip—
Just be glad!
Friends refuse to help you out?
Don't get mad!
You would be a lazy lout
If they had.
Do not envy place or pelf;
Praise the Lord, you've got your health;
Dig in! Be a man yourself—
Just be glad!
All the world may say or do,
Good or bad,
Isn't anything to you—
Just be glad!
Though you work at book or trade,
Though you work with pen or spade,
Hump yourself—you'll make the grade—
Just be glad!