My sister sent me this poem in an email some years ago. I don’t remember what the occasion was, maybe it was during the time of my divorce, or that time I got fired for accidentally exposing my company’s owner as fraud (I’ll have to write about that one). Whatever it was, it passed and things did, indeed, work out. I’m hoping they will again, as I go in tonight for the MRI on my femur to check out that bone tumor. As the doctor said, it’s most likely benign, and the only evidence that this moment gave me a little scare, will be this post, which I share with all of you.
Things Work Out
by Poet: Edgar A. Guest
Because it rains when we wish it wouldn’t,
Because men do what they often shouldn’t,
Because crops fail, and plans go wrong-
Some of us grumble all day long.
But somehow, in spite of the care and doubt,
It seems at last that things work out.
Because we lose where we hoped to gain,
Because we suffer a little pain,
Because we must work when we’d like to play-
Some of us whimper along life’s way.
But somehow, as day always follows the night,
Most of our troubles work out all right.
Because we cannot forever smile,
Because we must trudge in the dust awhile,
Because we think that the way is long-
Some of us whimper that life’s all wrong.
But somehow we live and our sky grows bright,
And everything seems to work out all right.
So bend to your trouble and meet your care,
For the clouds must break, and the sky grow fair.
Let the rain come down, as it must and will,
But keep on working and hoping still.
For in spite of the grumblers who stand about,
Somehow, it seems, all things work out.