JUST FOLKS 



" By EDGAR A. GUEST ——J 



THE PRIZES. 



Said an old-time champion to me, as 



he showed me many a prize, 

 Which he had won in his earlier days: 

 "Are they dazzling to your eyes? 

 You think them precious to hold and 

 keep, but the fire I would 

 throw them in 

 Could I only be the boy once more 

 with his first prize yet to win. 



"These are trophies of victory, and 



time was I thought them sweet. 

 But I'd rather be out there playing 



now and facing again defeat 

 Than sitting here in an idler's chair 



with my prizes round me lined, 

 With nothing to dread, and noting 



to risk, and nothing to stir my 



mind. 



"Oh, the game is more than its prize, 

 my boy, as soon you will come 

 to know, 



The joy of the race is in running it, 

 and not in the thing to show. 



I've cups and medals enough to 

 spare, but I'd give them all to 

 claim 



The thrill of the youngsters strug- 

 gling there who haven's yet 

 won a game. 



' Now** I'm settled down and watch 

 them go to the fields to lose or 

 win, 



With eyes agieani and with hearts on 

 fire they'll battle through thick 

 and thin, 



And I'd rather be those who will lose 

 today, and tomorrow will try 

 anew, 



For they still have the joy of the 

 game, while I am left with a 

 prize or two," 



