That's The Wise Thrush; He Sings Each

In This World, Who Can Do A Thing, Will Not; And Who Would Do It, Cannot, I Perceive: Yet The Will's Somewhat — Somewhat, Too, The Power — And Thus We Half-men Struggle.

The Only Fault's With Time; All Men Become Good Creatures: But So Slow!

I See My Way As Birds Their Trackless Way. I Shall Arrive,- What Time, What Circuit First, I Ask Not; But Unless God Send His Hail Or Blinding Fire-balls, Sleet Or Stifling Snow, In Some Time, His Good Time, I Shall Arrive: He Guides Me And The Bird. In His Good Time.

But Facts Are Facts And Flinch Not.

There Are Three Ways Of Learning Golf: By Study, Which Is The Most Wearisome; By Imitation, Which Is The Most Fallacious; And By Experience, Which Is The Most Bitter.