 | Le Cahier Jaune |  |
87
HERO-WORSHIP.
We work and we are weary; we are spent
And spend our hearts in cares that we despise,
Yet if we dare but ply our failing eyes,
Strong eager souls are still to cheer us sent,
To whom the very failures we lament
Are beautiful, and little deeds sublime;
Who see beyond the rolling mists of time,
The eternal country whither they are bent.
And spend our hearts in cares that we despise,
Yet if we dare but ply our failing eyes,
Strong eager souls are still to cheer us sent,
To whom the very failures we lament
Are beautiful, and little deeds sublime;
Who see beyond the rolling mists of time,
The eternal country whither they are bent.
As that grim prophet, when the Syrian host
Thundered at eve across the upland, there
In Dothan, and about the huddling town,
Spake naught, most heedless when they mocked him most,
Seeing how God all night above the down
Drave his red squadrons up the shuddering air.
Thundered at eve across the upland, there
In Dothan, and about the huddling town,
Spake naught, most heedless when they mocked him most,
Seeing how God all night above the down
Drave his red squadrons up the shuddering air.
Eton, 1886.
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