Courage

by Edgar Albert Guest

Courage isn’t a brilliant dash,

A daring deed in a moment’s flash;

It isn’t an instantaneous thing

Born of despair with a sudden spring

It isn’t a creature of flickered hope

Or the final tug at a slipping rope;

But it’s something deep in the soul of man

That is working always to serve some plan.

Courage isn’t the last resort

In the work of life or the game of sport;

It isn’t a thing that a man can call

At some future time when he’s apt to fall;

If he hasn’t it now, he will have it not

When the strain is great and the pace is hot.

For who would strive for a distant goal

Must always have courage within his soul.

Courage isn’t a dazzling light

That flashes and passes away from sight;

It’s a slow, unwavering, ingrained trait

With the patience to work and the strength to wait.

It’s part of a man when his skies are blue,

It’s part of him when he has work to do.

The brave man never is freed of it.

He has it when there is no need of it.

Courage was never designed for show;

It isn’t a thing that can come and go;

It’s written in victory and defeat

And every trial a man may meet.

It’s part of his hours, his days and his years,

Back of his smiles and behind his tears.

Courage is more than a daring deed:

It’s the breath of life and a strong man’s creed.