Can't is the worst word that's written or spoken; 
Doing more harm here than slander and lies; 
On it is many a strong spirit broken, 
And with it many a good purpose dies. 
It springs from the list of the thoughtless each morning 
And robs us of courage we need through the day; 
It rings in our ears like a timely-sent warning 
And laughs when we falter and fall by the way. 
 

Can't is the father of a feeble endeavor, 
The parent of terror and half-hearted work; 
It weakens the efforts of artisans cleavor, 
And makes of the toiler an indolent shirk. 
It poisons the soul of the man with the vision, 
It stifles in infancy many a plan; 
It greets honest toiling with open derision 
And mocks at the hopes and the dreams of a man. 
 

Can't is a word none should speak of without blushing; 
To utter it should be a symbol of shame; 
Ambition and courage it daily is crushing; 
It blights a man's purpose and shortens his aim. 
Despise it with all your hatred of error; 
Refuse it the lodgment it seeks in your brain; 
Arm against it as a creature of terror, 
And all that you dream of you some day shall gain. 
Can't is a word that is foe to ambition, 
An enemy ambushed to shatter your will; 
Its prey is forever the man with a mission 
And bows but to courage and patience and skill. 
Hate it, with hatred that's deep and undying, 
For once it is welcomed 'twill break any man; 
Whatever the goal you are seeking, keep trying 
And answer this deamon by saying: "I can." 

-Edgar A. Guest