"IT'S NOT WHAT HAPPENS TO YOU . . .
IT'S WHAT YOU DO WITH IT."
A
POEM
There
once was an oyster
Whose
story I tell,
Who
found that some sand
Had
got into his shell.
It
was only a grain,
But
it gave him great pain.
For
oysters have feelings
Although
they're so plain.
Now,
did he berate
The
harsh workings of fate
That
had brought him
To
such a deplorable state?
Did
he curse at the government,
Cry
for election,
And
claim that the sea should
Have
given him protection?
"No,"
he said to himself
As
he lay on a shell,
Since
I cannot remove it,
I
shall try to improve it.
Now
the years have rolled around,
As
the years always do,
And
he came to his ultimate
Destiny
. . . stew.
And
the small grain of sand
That
had bothered him so
Was
a beautiful pearl
All
richly aglow.
Now
the tale has a moral,
For
isn't it grand
What
an oyster can do
With
a morsel of sand?
What
couldn't we do
If
we'd only begin
With
some of the things
That
get under our skin.