With a resolute heart and cheerful,
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven face and fearful.

O, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce.
A trouble is what you make it.
It isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,
But only, HOW DID YOU TAKE IT?

You are beaten to the earth? Well, what of 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, the higher you'll bounce,
Be proud of your blackened eye.
It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts,
But, HOW did you fight, and WHY?

And though you be down to death, what then?
If you battled the best that you could,
If you played your part in the world of men,
The _Critic_ will call it good.

Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he's slow or spry,
It isn't the fact that you're DEAD that counts,
But only HOW DID YOU DIE?

--_Cooke_.