Each New Year's Eve I used to brood <br />On my misdoings of the past, <br />And vowed: "This year I'll be so good - <br />Well, haply better than the last." <br />My record of reforms I read <br />To Mum who listened sweetly to it: <br />"Why plan all this, my son?" she said; <br /> "Just do it." <br /> <br />Of her wise words I've often thought - <br />Aye, sometimes with a pang of pain, <br />When resolutions come to naught, <br />And high resolves are sadly vain; <br />The human heart from failure bleeds; <br />Hopes may be wrecked so that we rue them . . . <br />Don't let us dream of lovely deeds - <br /> Just do them. <br /> <br />And so, my son, uphold your pride. <br />Believe serenely in your soul. <br />Just take things in a steady stride, <br />Until behold! you've gained your goal. <br />But if, perchance, you frame a plan <br />Of conduct, let it be a free one: <br />Don't try to make yourself a man - <br /> Just be one.<br /><br />Robert William Service<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/resolutions/
