The Comfort of Manuel

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The Comfort of Manuel
written by John Masefield
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Bad lies behind, worse lies before.
What stars there were are in us still;
The Moon, the Inconstant, keeps her will,
The Sun still scatters out his store,
And shall not Man do more?

When the worst comes, the worst is going:
As a gate shuts, another opes:
The power of man is as his hopes:
In darkest night the cocks are crowing.
In the sea roaring and wind blowing
Adventure: man the ropes.

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