"IT'S NOT WHAT HAPPENS TO YOU . . .
             ;            &n bsp;  IT'S WHAT YOU DO WITH IT."

          A POEM

          There once was an oyster
          Whose story I tell,
          Who found that some sand
          Had got into his shell.

          It was only a grain,
          But it gave him great pain.
          For oysters have feelings
          Although they're so plain.

          Now, did he berate
          The harsh workings of fate
          That had brought him
          To such a deplorable state?

          Did he curse at the government,
          Cry for election,
          And claim that the sea should
          Have given him protection?

          "No," he said to himself
          As he lay on a shell,
          Since I cannot remove it,
          I shall try to improve it.

          Now the years have rolled around,
          As the years always do,
          And he came to his ultimate
          Destiny . . . stew.

          And the small grain of sand
          That had bothered him so
          Was a beautiful pearl
          All richly aglow.

          Now the tale has a moral,
          For isn't it grand
          What an oyster can do
          With a morsel of sand?

          What couldn't we do
          If we'd only begin
          With some of the things
          That get under our skin.