I picked this poem to read in front of the class on “poem day” in fifth grade.
It Couldn’t Be Done
Somebody said that it couldn’t be done,
But he with a chuckle replied
That “maybe it couldn’t,” but he would be one
Who wouldn’t say so till he’d tried.
So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin
On his face. If he worried he hid it.
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn’t be done, and he did it.
Somebody scoffed: “Oh, you’ll never do that;
At least no one ever has done it”;
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat,
And the first thing we knew he’d begun it.
With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
Without any doubting or quiddit,
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn’t be done, and he did it.
There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
There are thousands to prophesy failure;
There are thousands to point out to you, one by one,
The dangers that wait to assail you.
But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,
Just take off your coat and go to it;
Just start to sing as you tackle the thing
That “cannot be done,” and you’ll do it.
-Edgar A. Guest
I was floored to see this! My wife heard this poem from her (now deceased) mom when she was a kid, and as she couldn't remember the whole thing, I went on a search. Eventually I found a book that contained this and other poems by the author.
Good quotes Bob.
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I love this Poem by Edgar A Guest. I have an interesting story that connects me with this piece of work if you care to read on. In 1972 when I was 12 years old, my grandfather asked me to try to find a poem that he knew when he was a young man. He barely remembered any verse of the poem but sincerely wished to read and recite it again. I felt his passion to relive the time when some poem must have really touched him and with that my search began for the poem "It couldn't be done". I remember several hours of searching in the public library with no success, but a search in the school library brought such excitement from a worn out poetry book. I quickly checked the book out, and somewhere found a Xerox machine to copy the poem for Grandpa. When I visited my Grandfather on the following weekend, with the memorized poem in my head and the Xerox copy in hand I bean to recite the words of a poem that brought tears to the eyes of an old man. I cannot explain the joy in his face, as finding a long lost friend and I knew the value of my quest to find this for him as he thanked me for years to come. I lost my Grandpa in 1983 and then my mother in 2002, when dividing my mothers estate I found Grandpa's Holy Bible and took it with me. I recently opened up that Bible and low and behold, the same Xerox copy of that wonderful poem which I had given to him 30 years earlier was neatly placed in the center of the book for safe keeping. I've since re-memorized the poem, and every now and then, when someone believes they can't do it, I recite to them "It Couldn't Be Done".