"It's not exactly to my best But it may pass the final test; And should it break, no man can know It was my hand that made it so. The thing is faulty… - Edgar Guest

So long as men shall be on earth
There will be tasks for them to do,
Some way for them to show their worth;
Each day shall bring its problems new.<p>And men shall dream of mightier deeds
Than ever have been done before:
There always shall be human needs
For men to work and struggle for.

I did not stop to ask the lad his little tale to tell,
There was no need of that because I knew the story well - "She never gave a chance to me!" that sentence held it all.
A hundred times I'd lived the scene in days when I was small,
A broken rule, a teacher vexed, hot rage where calm belonged,
A guilty judgment blindly made - a youngster sadly wronged.<p>I still can see that little chap upon his homeward way,
"She never gave a chance to me," I still can hear him say,
And so I write this verse for him, and all the girls and boys
Who shall their tutors now and then disturb with needless noise.
Be fair, you teachers of our land, in every circumstance;
Don't let some little fellow say he never had a chance.

The difference 'twixt good and bad is not so very much,
A few more minutes at the task, an extra turn or touch,
A final test that all is right—and yet the men are few
Who seem to think it worth their while these extra things to do.