Are you of The Men That Don't Fit In?

[ODB]

Aye...


There’s a race of men that don’t fit in,
A race that can’t stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.

They range the field and they rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain’s crest;
Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they don’t know how to rest.

If they just went straight they might go far;
They are strong and brave and true;
But they’re always tired of the things that are,
And they want the strange and new.

They say: “Could I find my proper groove,
What a deep mark I would make!”
So they chop and change,
and each fresh move is only a fresh mistake.

And each forgets, as he strips and runs
With a brilliant, fitful pace,
It’s the steady, quiet, plodding ones
Who win in the lifelong race.

And each forgets that his youth has fled,
Forgets that his prime is past,
Till he stands one day, with a hope that’s dead,
In the glare of the truth at last.

He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance;
He has just done things by half.
Life’s been a jolly good joke on him,
And now is the time to laugh.

Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost;
He was never meant to win;
He’s a rolling stone, and it’s bred in the bone;
He’s a man who won’t fit in.

- Robert W. Service

 

[100percent]

 

[BeastOfTheTrees]

Well done for that post

 

[Ddog]

Best poem ever written.

 

[rayporter]

 

[Q child]

Not me. I'm much more of a roots type of a person than a gypsy type. I like the familiar, and don't spend a whole lot of time looking for the strange and new.
Good poem though.

 

[insanelupus]

IF
- Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!


This was the poem in my high school graduation card, picked out and signed by my father. That alone was an odd occurrence. Coupled with the author being a favorite of my paternal great grandfather, born 1899 and I had occasion to have many conversations with him, and IF always strikes a chord.

I enjoy this and the one the OP posted everytime I read them.

 

[SWOHTR]

I am not, but it is a good poem and fits in with Service’s other works such as Tales of the Yukon.

 

[Antarctica]

Aye...


There’s a race of men that don’t fit in,
A race that can’t stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.

They range the field and they rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain’s crest;
Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they don’t know how to rest.

If they just went straight they might go far;
They are strong and brave and true;
But they’re always tired of the things that are,
And they want the strange and new.

They say: “Could I find my proper groove,
What a deep mark I would make!”
So they chop and change,
and each fresh move is only a fresh mistake.

And each forgets, as he strips and runs
With a brilliant, fitful pace,
It’s the steady, quiet, plodding ones
Who win in the lifelong race.

And each forgets that his youth has fled,
Forgets that his prime is past,
Till he stands one day, with a hope that’s dead,
In the glare of the truth at last.

He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance;
He has just done things by half.
Life’s been a jolly good joke on him,
And now is the time to laugh.

Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost;
He was never meant to win;
He’s a rolling stone, and it’s bred in the bone;
He’s a man who won’t fit in.

- Robert W. Service

One of my favorites. Took me a long time to figure out who wrote this years ago...

 

[sixn2thirds]

Hear, Hear

 

[AKBC]

This one is a favorite of mine. I'm sick of fitting in at work but will never "break the hearts of kin". I have made my mark in my career but sit here in midtown Anchorage looking at the mountains and all I want is to "range the field and rove the flood, and climb the mountain’s crest" while I can.

 

[Yarak]

Good’un for sure
Describes many people and occasionally the one in the mirror

 

[Kevin Dill]

That man once occupied my body but I killed him. I love the poem for the reminder about that man, and how he might have threatened to upset the balance of a life I truly enjoy today.

 

[zacattack]

Aye...


There’s a race of men that don’t fit in,
A race that can’t stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.

They range the field and they rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain’s crest;
Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they don’t know how to rest.

If they just went straight they might go far;
They are strong and brave and true;
But they’re always tired of the things that are,
And they want the strange and new.

They say: “Could I find my proper groove,
What a deep mark I would make!”
So they chop and change,
and each fresh move is only a fresh mistake.

And each forgets, as he strips and runs
With a brilliant, fitful pace,
It’s the steady, quiet, plodding ones
Who win in the lifelong race.

And each forgets that his youth has fled,
Forgets that his prime is past,
Till he stands one day, with a hope that’s dead,
In the glare of the truth at last.

He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance;
He has just done things by half.
Life’s been a jolly good joke on him,
And now is the time to laugh.

Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost;
He was never meant to win;
He’s a rolling stone, and it’s bred in the bone;
He’s a man who won’t fit in.

- Robert W. Service

That’s me. Since I graduated high school 20 years ago I’ve moved 9 times, 6 different states, and about that many different jobs. The itch has definitely hit me lately to move again.

 

[ODB]

That’s me. Since I graduated high school 20 years ago I’ve moved 9 times, 6 different states, and about that many different jobs. The itch has definitely hit me lately to move again.

we might be related. Since high school 30 years ago I’ve moved 14 times to 5 states, both coasts, and done everything from telecom, newspaper writing, CNC machine work to marketing.

the itch is strong, mate…

 

[TheViking]

Deleted

 

[zacattack]

we might be related. Since high school 30 years ago I’ve moved 14 times to 5 states, both coasts, and done everything from telecom, newspaper writing, CNC machine work to marketing.

the itch is strong, mate…

I’ve always wondered what causes this. Is it just our innate desire to explore what’s over the next horizon? And why do some men have it snd some don’t. Like why are some fine putting down roots and others just come and from one place to the next.

 

[ODB]

I’ve always wondered what causes this. Is it just our innate desire to explore what’s over the next horizon? And why do some men have it snd some don’t. Like why are some fine putting down roots and others just come and from one place to the next.

My brother and I are on opposite sides of this fence. He thinks it's because I'm the youngest - but we are only 18mo apart and grew up doing everything together.

Not really sure where it comes from. May have been because I was an early reader and always had my head in a book taking in all those stories of adventure. Dunno.

I'm a member of the Osage tribe and there is the story of one of the clans that used the spider as their symbol. The clans wanted a symbol that was strong and powerful, and the spider said to one of them =- "Why not use me as a symbol?"

The clan member said "Why would I want to use you?

The spider said, "Because wherever I am I build my house, and where I build my house all things come to it."

That's a bit like peripatetic me - wherever I am I make my house.

 

[Kevin Dill]

"And each forgets that his youth has fled,
Forgets that his prime is past,
Till he stands one day, with a hope that’s dead,
In the glare of the truth at last."

Lest we romanticize the first 3 verses.

 

[gbflyer]

This hit me.

So many thoughts…

Anyways, felt like venting to you guys.

You were put there for a reason bud. No telling what would happen with those kids if it weren’t for you. Suit up and show up, knowing you’re doing your best. They will surprise you some day, I guarantee it.