With Open Eyes

When they say at the beginning
That the odds are all against you,
Only fools would dream of winning
And your enemies will beat you,
Hold a mirror to their faces,
Let them look real hard, and pass,
Huddling back to caves of safety,—
For the foe is in the glass.

When one comes to you with pity,
And attempts to comfort give,
And bewails the state of nature,
That injustice should so live,
Let him look into a mirror,
Let him quail and duck, and pass,
From the quitter who is blinking
At his foe within the glass.

Turn the mirror to yourself then,
Speak with pride to one man true
Who’s decided you are winning
Every second you are you:
“I don’t seek a consolation,
I have aim on highest prize,
And with fearless consecration
I take all with open eyes.”

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