Let me live in my house by the side of the road
    Where the race of men go by—­
  They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
    Wise, foolish—­so am I.
  Then why should I sit in the scorner’s seat
    Or hurl the cynic’s ban?—­
  Let me live in my house by the side of the road
    And be a friend to man.

Sam Walter Foss.

From “Dreams in Homespun.”

FOUR THINGS

What are the qualities of ideal manhood?  Various people have given various answers to this question.  Here the poet states what qualities he thinks indispensable.

  Four things a man must learn to do
  If he would make his record true: 
  To think without confusion clearly;
  To love his fellow-men sincerely;
  To act from honest motives purely;
  To trust in God and Heaven securely.

Henry Van Dyke.

From “Collected Poems.”

IF

The central idea of this poem is that success comes from self-control and a true sense of the values of things.  In extremes lies danger.  A man must not lose heart because of doubts or opposition, yet he must do his best to see the grounds for both.  He must not be deceived into thinking either triumph or disaster final; he must use each wisely—­and push on.  In all things he must hold to the golden mean.  If he does, he will own the world, and even better, for his personal reward he will attain the full stature of manhood.

  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 dream—­and not make dreams your master;
    If you can think—­and not make thoughts your aim,
  If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
    And treat those two imposters just the same;
  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 make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
  And lose, and start again at your beginnings
    And never breathe a word about your loss;
  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!”