Douglas Malloch
Le poesie di Douglas Malloch
Be the best of Whatever You Are
If you can't be a pine on the top of the hill,
Be a scrub in the valley-but be
The best little scrub by the side of the rill;
Be a bush if you can't be a tree. If you can't be a bush be a bit of the grass,
And some highway happier make;
If you can't be a muskie then just be a bass-
But the liveliest bass in the lake! We can't all be captains, we've got to be crew,
There's something for all of us here,
There's big work to do, and there's lesser to do,
And the task you must do is the near. If you can't be a highway then just be a trail,
If you can't be the sun be a star;
It isn't by size that you win or you fail- Be the best of whatever you are!
Douglas Malloch
Be a scrub in the valley-but be
The best little scrub by the side of the rill;
Be a bush if you can't be a tree. If you can't be a bush be a bit of the grass,
And some highway happier make;
If you can't be a muskie then just be a bass-
But the liveliest bass in the lake! We can't all be captains, we've got to be crew,
There's something for all of us here,
There's big work to do, and there's lesser to do,
And the task you must do is the near. If you can't be a highway then just be a trail,
If you can't be the sun be a star;
It isn't by size that you win or you fail- Be the best of whatever you are!
Douglas Malloch
It´s Fine Today
Sure, this world is full of trouble
I ain't said it ain't.
Lord, I've had enough and double
Reason for complaint;
Rain and storm have come to fret me,
Skies are often gray;
Iloms and brambles have beset me
On the road-but say,
Ain't it fine today? What's the use of always weepin',
Making trouble last?
What's the use of always keepin'
Thinkin' of the past?
Each must have his tribulation-
Water with his wine;
Life, it ain't no celebration,
Trouble?-I've had mine-
But today is fine! It's today that I am livin',
Not a month ago.
Havin'; losin'; takin'; givin';
As time wills it so.
Yesterday a cloud of sorrow
Fell across the way,
It may rain again tomorrow,
It may rain-but say,
Ain't it fine today?
Douglas Malloch
I ain't said it ain't.
Lord, I've had enough and double
Reason for complaint;
Rain and storm have come to fret me,
Skies are often gray;
Iloms and brambles have beset me
On the road-but say,
Ain't it fine today? What's the use of always weepin',
Making trouble last?
What's the use of always keepin'
Thinkin' of the past?
Each must have his tribulation-
Water with his wine;
Life, it ain't no celebration,
Trouble?-I've had mine-
But today is fine! It's today that I am livin',
Not a month ago.
Havin'; losin'; takin'; givin';
As time wills it so.
Yesterday a cloud of sorrow
Fell across the way,
It may rain again tomorrow,
It may rain-but say,
Ain't it fine today?
Douglas Malloch
The Road of Masonry
Men build a road of Masonry Across the hills and dales, Unite the prairie and the sea, The mountains and the vales, They cross the chasm, bridge the stream, They point to where the turrets gleam, And many men for many a day Who seek the heights shall find the way.
Men build a road of Masonry, But not for self they build: With footsteps of humanity The hearts of men are thrilled. This music makes their labor sweet: The endless tramp of other feet, The thought that men shall travel thus An easier road because of us.
We build the road of Masonry With other men in mind; We do not build for you and me, We build for all mankind. We build a road! - remember, men, Build not for Now, but build for Then, And other men who walk the way Shall find the road we built today.
Who builds the road of Masonry, Though small or great his part, However hard the task may be, May toil with singing heart. For it is something, after all, When muscles tire and shadows fall, To know that other men shall bless The builder for his faithfulness.
Men build a road of Masonry, But not for self they build: With footsteps of humanity The hearts of men are thrilled. This music makes their labor sweet: The endless tramp of other feet, The thought that men shall travel thus An easier road because of us.
We build the road of Masonry With other men in mind; We do not build for you and me, We build for all mankind. We build a road! - remember, men, Build not for Now, but build for Then, And other men who walk the way Shall find the road we built today.
Who builds the road of Masonry, Though small or great his part, However hard the task may be, May toil with singing heart. For it is something, after all, When muscles tire and shadows fall, To know that other men shall bless The builder for his faithfulness.
Father´s Lodge
Father's lodge, I well remember, wasn't large as lodges go, There was trouble in December getting to it through the snow. But he seldom missed a meeting; drifts or blossoms in the lane, Still the Tyler heard his greeting, winter ice or summer rain.
Father's lodge thought nothing of it: mid their labors and their cares Those old Masons learned to love it, that fraternity of theirs. What's a bit of stormy weather, when a little down the road, Men are gathering together, helping bear each other's load?
Father's lodge had made a village: men of father's sturdy brawn Turned a wilderness to tillage, seized the flag, and carried on, Made a village, built a city, shaped a country, formed a state, Simple men, not wise nor witty — humble men, and yet how great!
Father's lodge had caught the gleaming of the great Masonic past; Thinking, toiling, daring, dreaming, they were builders to the last. Quiet men, not rich nor clever, with the tools they found at hand Building for the great forever, first a village then a land.
Father's lodge no temple builded, shaped of steel and carved of stone; Marble columns, ceilings guilded, father's lodge has never known. But a heritage of glory they have left, the humble ones — They have left their mighty story in the keeping of their sons.
Father's lodge thought nothing of it: mid their labors and their cares Those old Masons learned to love it, that fraternity of theirs. What's a bit of stormy weather, when a little down the road, Men are gathering together, helping bear each other's load?
Father's lodge had made a village: men of father's sturdy brawn Turned a wilderness to tillage, seized the flag, and carried on, Made a village, built a city, shaped a country, formed a state, Simple men, not wise nor witty — humble men, and yet how great!
Father's lodge had caught the gleaming of the great Masonic past; Thinking, toiling, daring, dreaming, they were builders to the last. Quiet men, not rich nor clever, with the tools they found at hand Building for the great forever, first a village then a land.
Father's lodge no temple builded, shaped of steel and carved of stone; Marble columns, ceilings guilded, father's lodge has never known. But a heritage of glory they have left, the humble ones — They have left their mighty story in the keeping of their sons.
Echoes
Fine men have walked this way before, Whatever Lodge your Lodge may be; Whoever stands before the door, The sacred arch of Masonry, Stands where the wise, the great, the good, In their own time and place have stood. You are not Brother just with these, Your friends and neighbors; you are kin With Masons down the centuries; This room that now you enter in Has felt the tread of many feet, For here all Masonry you meet. You walk the path the great have trod, The great in heart, the great in mind, Who looked through Masonry to God, And looked through God to all mankind Learned more than word or sign or grip, Learned Man's and God's relationship. To him who sees, who understands, How mighty Masonry appears! A Brotherhood of many lands, A fellowship of many years, A Brotherhood so great, so vast, Of all the Craft of all the past. And so I say a sacred trust Is yours to share, is yours to keep; I hear the voice of men of dust, I hear the step of men asleep; And down the endless future, too, Your own shall echo after you.
