And hear the whir of great events,
The sweep of mighty deeds go past,
And feel within our souls the thrill; and yet
From sharing in them holden fast
By bonds of fate.
The sweep of mighty deeds go past,
And feel within our souls the thrill; and yet
From sharing in them holden fast
By bonds of fate.
We dream of greatness day by day,
And day by day do petty things;
We know that we could fly, but must
Quiescent stand with folded wings
At duty's side.
And day by day do petty things;
We know that we could fly, but must
Quiescent stand with folded wings
At duty's side.
And yet—how can we know but in the end,
When life blooms to eternity,
We may not find the little deeds
Rose-bright with immortality
Because of love?
When life blooms to eternity,
We may not find the little deeds
Rose-bright with immortality
Because of love?
For it may chance that in the plan
Of life and death and after-days,
God counts the hourly tasks well done
Greater than hero deeds of praise
That shake the world.
Of life and death and after-days,
God counts the hourly tasks well done
Greater than hero deeds of praise
That shake the world.
THE OPEN ROAD
WE know not what it is, the whisper low
That each of us must hear.
We call it Death, but what is Death
Behind the pall and bier?
That each of us must hear.
We call it Death, but what is Death
Behind the pall and bier?
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