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The tree that never had to fight
For sun and sky and air and light,
That stood out in the open plain,
And always got its share of rain,
Never became a forest king,
But lived and died a scrubby thing.
The man who never had to toil,
Who never had to win his share
Of sun sky and light and air,
Never became a manly man,
But lived and died as he began.
Good timber does not grow in ease.
The stronger wind, the tougher trees,
The farther sky, the greater length,
The more the storm, the more the strength.
By sun and cold, by rain and snows,
In tree or man, good timber grows.
Author - Douglas