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THE PRESIDENT

(WRITTEN DURING THE FIRST ADMINISTRATION OF PRESIDENT CLEVELAND)

Not his to guide the ship while tempests blow,
War's billows burst, and glorious thunders beat;
Not his the joy to see an alien foe
Fly down the dreadful valley of defeat;
Not his the fame of that great soul and tried,
Who conquered civil peace by arms and love;
Nor his the emprize of one who lately died
Hand-claspt with foes, who weep his tomb above.
But this his task,—all passionless, unsplendid,—
To teach, in public place, a nobler creed;
To build a wall,—alone or well befriended,—
'Gainst the base partizan's ignoble greed.
Or will he fail, or triumph? History lays
A moment down her pen. A nation waits—and prays.