I Have An Intense Dislike For Artificial

Carry On! Carry On! Fight The Good Fight And True; Believe In You Mission, Greet Life With A Cheer.

Now A Promise Made Is A Debt Unpaid, And The Trail Has Its Own Stern Code.

And Each Forgets, As He Strips And Runs With A Brilliant, Fitful Pace, It's The Steady, Quiet, Plodding Ones Who Win In The Lifelong Race. And Each Forgets That His Youth Has Fled, Forgets That His Prime Is Past, Till He Stands One Day, With A Hope That's Dead, In The Glare Of The Truth At Last.

Write Verse, Not Poetry. The Public Wants Verse. If You Have A Talent For Poetry, Then Don't By Any Means Mother It, But Try Your Hand At Verse.

I Remember Little Of The Yukon Or What I Wrote There.