Laurels

When I was a little girl, growing up in Ware Shoals, SC, I often heard my parents speak of “Fessor Camak”.  He was a well-respected gentleman in the community and a fine poet.  One of my dad’s favorites was Laurels.   Good lesson for all of us!

Laurels by Marion Boyd Camak

Somebody told me that I was good,

And I believed what they said,

And thought I would

Rest on the laurels I had won.

So I took a nice seat up in the sun,

That fellows not so lucky as I

Might be inspired as they staggered by.

And there I sat, with pride in myself

Like a brand new trinket on a brand new shelf,

And slept on the job, like I thought I could, -

For hadn’t they told me I was good?

But I awoke one day, and with surprise

I found no worshiping human eyes

Beholding me in my lofty space.

They all seemed turned to another place

And centered on to another chap,

With a workman’s apron on his lap,

And grime and sweat upon his face,

At work out there in my old place.

I swaggered down with a lordly air

And strutted to where they were, out there.

They looked at me, and then they said

It’s old Bill Hicks; we thought you were dead.