What Indeed? Poem by Henry Grantland Rice

THE road's a trifle hard ahead;
What of it?
With shadows somewhat thickly spread;
What of it?

Since when has life been turned into
A clover patch where dreams come true ?
You've got hard work to scramble through
What of it?

You say the luck is breaking tough?
What of it?
The deal's unfair the scrap is rough
What of it?

The top is always on a hill
With many a sharp and sudden spill,
And if the gales are raw and shrill
What of it ?

They've slammed you back at every start?
What of it?
They've held you to a minor part?
What of it?

Since when, where frowning ramparts barred,
Has any quitter ever starred?
You may be battered, bruised and scarred
What of it?