Wouldst Thou Succeed?

Wouldst thou succeed? Then master each detail, Hold them in hand as reinsmen hold their steeds, Firmly, yet urge them on. Let no false needs Slip up on right or left and make bewail. Onward—drive them yet onward, and prevail Ere Doubt shall sow her hesitating seeds To flower in Failure rank or other breeds Of Mishap, Chance and Ill-luck that assails. Wouldst thou succeed? Finish the work in hand Nor dabble here and there while Time goes on And naught is done—and one by one the sand Of moment, turns to heaps of hours gone. Finish—Finish—at the dawn of light ’Twas stamped in stars across the perfect night. John Trotwood Moore.