“The tree that never hed to fight 
For sun and sky and air and light, 
That stood out in the open plain, 
And always got its share of rain, 
Never became a forest king, 
But lived and died a scrubby thing. 
The man who neved had to toil, 
Who neved had-to win his share, 
Of sun and sky and light and air, 
Never became a manly man, 
But lived and died as he began. _ 
Good timber does not grow in ease; 
The stronger wind, the tougher trees. 
The farther sky, the greater length; 
The more the storm, the more the strength. 
But sun and cold, by rain and snows, 
In trees or man good timber grows. 
Where thickest stands the forest growth, 
We find the patriarchs of both, 
And they hold converse with the stars 
Whose broken branches show the scars 
Of many winds and much of strife. 
This is the common law of life.” 
