Around him lies the ripened grain
From every land and every age;
The weakest thresher should attain
Unto the wisdom of the sage.
Ambitious youth, this is the wealth
The ages have bequeathed to thee.
Thou canst not take thy share by stealth
Nor by mere ingenuity.
Thy better self must spur thee on
To win what time has made thy own;
No hand but labor's yet has drawn
The sweets that labor's hand has sown.
In verse presuming to be lyrical we hearken for the lyrical cry. That cry is in his lines, melodiously uttered, and poignant. For example:
The flowers take the tears
Of the weeping night
And give them to the sun
For the day's delight.
My passion takes the joys
Of the laughing day
And melts them into tears
For my heart's decay.
The sweet sadness of those stanzas lingers with one. A stanza from a poem entitled “The Nation's Neglected Child” may help us to their secret:
