From the Grand Forks Daily Herald, July 15, 1914.
When Luck and Pluck, one summer day,
When faring forth together,
Pluck wore a suit of homespun gray,
Luck had a cap and feather;
A handsome, dashing fellow he,
And full of careless pleasure—
“Come follow me; I hold the key,”
He cried, “of boundless treasure.”
He looked so gay, and bold, and strong,
That listening ears were plenty,
His train of followers grew long,
A dozen—fifteen—twenty—
A hundred—still they came; while Pluck
Tramped on, with few behind him,
“Poor plodding fools,” cried laughing Luck,
“A stupid guide you’ll find him!”
Luck led his careless troop ahead
With boasting and with revel.
The sun shown radiant overhead,
The road was smooth and level.
But as the day wore on, behold!
Athwart the way, a river
Without a bridge, flowed deep and cold,
A sight to make one shiver.
“Well, well,” cried Luck, “We’ll sit and wait,
It may run dry tomorrow,
Or we’ll see coming soon or late
Some boat that we can borrow!”
So down they sat—and there they stayed
To wait and hope at leisure,
While Luck assured them, undismayed,
They still would reach the treasure.
But Pluck, with those who tramped behind
His sturdy figure waited
No moment on the bank, to find
Whether the stream abated;
They plunged, they swam, they fought their way,
The shore in safety gaining—
And theirs the treasure is today
While Luck goes on complaining.