 | Claribel and Other Poems |  |
218
TRIUMPH
Work can never miss its wages.
One wide song rings through the ages:
Ever loss true gain presages.
One wide song rings through the ages:
Ever loss true gain presages.
Not alone that flowers are blowing
Over graves,—that bread is growing
In warm tears from heaven flowing,—
Over graves,—that bread is growing
In warm tears from heaven flowing,—
That old Winter Spring-seed hiveth;
Ever Death Creation wiveth,
And God's Love the tempest driveth.
Ever Death Creation wiveth,
And God's Love the tempest driveth.
Let the conqueror blush for winning!
Little worth his conquest-sinning:
They who lose are so beginning.
Little worth his conquest-sinning:
They who lose are so beginning.
Through the years one chorus ringeth:
The death-chaunt the martyr singeth
Is the root whence victory springeth.
The death-chaunt the martyr singeth
Is the root whence victory springeth.
In the Desert sink the Weary,—
Dry their pitcher; angels near ye,—
Ishmael! Arab empires hear thee.
Dry their pitcher; angels near ye,—
Ishmael! Arab empires hear thee.
219
Joseph by his brethren barter'd
Hath his full revenge: the Martyr'd
Egypt ruled and Israel charter'd.
Hath his full revenge: the Martyr'd
Egypt ruled and Israel charter'd.
Round the ark the river gushes,—
All is lost; amid the rushes
Pharaoh's Daughter, dawn-like, blushes.
All is lost; amid the rushes
Pharaoh's Daughter, dawn-like, blushes.
Calvary's complete surrender
Is of utmost conquest tender,
And its gloom intensest splendour.
Is of utmost conquest tender,
And its gloom intensest splendour.
What though Ruin cometh faster,
Look thou God-ward through disaster:
‘In this sign thou shalt be master!’
Look thou God-ward through disaster:
‘In this sign thou shalt be master!’
Ever hangs 'twixt earth and heaven
Victory's Victor, unforgiven,
Crown'd with thorn and earthquake-riven.
Victory's Victor, unforgiven,
Crown'd with thorn and earthquake-riven.
Ever the same chorus ringeth:
From his cross the martyr flingeth
Wide the seed whence victory springeth.
From his cross the martyr flingeth
Wide the seed whence victory springeth.
Ever through the book of ages.
The same echoes close the pages:
Ever loss true gain presages.
The same echoes close the pages:
Ever loss true gain presages.
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