28
TO J. C. D.
And the past is but a specter, haunting with a warning head,
Every palace of the living, from the chambers of the dead.
Every palace of the living, from the chambers of the dead.
And it reads to us a lesson it were wise in us to learn,
Of the thousands gone before us, of the gentle and the stem:
From the empire worn and wasted, to the single rose-leaf shed,
There are foot-prints left to guide us, took we lessons of the dead.
Of the thousands gone before us, of the gentle and the stem:
From the empire worn and wasted, to the single rose-leaf shed,
There are foot-prints left to guide us, took we lessons of the dead.
And the faithful Christian soldier, with his helmet and his shield,
Ever ready for the combat, ever ready for the field,
Shadows forth the hurrying Present, where the armies of the heart,
Moslem host and Christian soldier, strive for the better part.
Ever ready for the combat, ever ready for the field,
Shadows forth the hurrying Present, where the armies of the heart,
Moslem host and Christian soldier, strive for the better part.
Hark! the tread of armed foemen, rushing onward to the fight:
In the crowded noontide hour, in the stillness of the night.
Louder, louder yet the trumpet pealeth forth its warning tone;
Pointing upward, ever upward, to the fountain-head above.
In the crowded noontide hour, in the stillness of the night.
Louder, louder yet the trumpet pealeth forth its warning tone;
Pointing upward, ever upward, to the fountain-head above.
