Can't
is the worst word that's written or spoken; Doing more harm here than slander and lies; On it is many a strong spirit broken, And with it many a good purpose dies. It springs from the lips of the thoughtless each morning And robs us of courage we need throughout the day: It rings in our ears like a timely sent warning And laughs when we falter and fall by the way. Can't is the feather of feeble endeavor,
The parent of terror and half-hearted work; It weakens the efforts of artisans cleaver, And makes of the toiler an indolent shirk. It poisons the soul of the man with a vision, It stifles in infancy many a plan; It greets honest toiling with open derision And mocks at the hopes and the dreams of a man. Can't is a word none should speak without blushing; To utter it should be a symbol of shame;
Ambition and courage it daily is cursing; It blights a man's purpose and shortens his aim. Despise it with all of your hatred of error; Refuse it the lodgment it seeks in your brain; Arm against it as a creature of terror, And all that you dream of you someday shall gain. -Edgar Guest |