






| Beautiful Italy |
| When the weather kills your crop, keep a-goin'! It's work to reach the top, keep a-goin'! S'pose you're out o' ev'ry dime, gittin' broke ain't any crime; Tell the world you're feelin' prime -- keep a-goin'! When it looks like all is up, keep a-goin'! Drain the sweetness from the cup, keep a-goin'! See the wild birds on the wing, hear the bells that sweetly ring, When you feel like sighin', sing -- keep a-goin'! -- Excerpt from poem by Frank L. Stanton |
| Music: Giardini di Marzo (Can't hear the music?) Friday's Journal The Past Whispers - Home Old New Orleans |
| Please don't use the "Send page" feature of your computer to this whole page in e-mail format. If you'd like to share it, please use the form to the left or copy & paste the link onto an e-mail message. The link to this page is: http://www.thepastwhispers.com/Beautiful_Italy.html |

| 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 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 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. -- Excerpt from poem by Rudyard Kipling |
| Be strong! It matters not how deep entrenched the wrong, How hard the battle goes, the day how long; Faint not - fight on. Tomorrow comes the song! -- Excerpt from poem by Maltbie Davenport Babcock |
| You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that? Come up with a smiling face. It's nothing against you to fall down flat, but to lie there -- that's disgrace. The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce; be proud of your blackened eye! It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts; it's how did you fight and why? -- Excerpt from poem by Edmund Vance Cooke |