The “Can’t-be-Doners”

There’s a thousand “Can’t-be-doners,”

For one who says, “It can”;

But the whole amount of deeds that count

Is done by the latter clan.

For the “Can’t-be-doners” grumble,

And hamper, oppose, and doubt,

While the daring man who says “It can,”

Proceeds to work it out.

There isn’t a new invention

Beneath the shining sun

That was ever wrought by deed or thought

Of the tribe of “Can’t-be-done.”

For the “Can’t-be-doners” mutter,

While the “Can-be’s,” cool, sublime,

Make their “notions” work till the others smirk:

“Oh, we knew it all the time!”

Oh, the “Can-be’s” clan is meagre,

Its membership is small,

And it’s mighty few see their dreams come true,

Or hear fame’s trumpet-call.

But it’s better to be a “Can-be,”

And labour, and dream-and-die,

Than one who runs with the “Can’t-be-dones,”

Who haven’t the pluck to try.

Author Unknown