UNBEATEN
YOU may only have dreamed of the mountain
While you toiled in the valley below;
You may have seen only the storm's black wing,
Though you sought for the radiant bow.
While you toiled in the valley below;
You may have seen only the storm's black wing,
Though you sought for the radiant bow.
And you may have reached forth for the laurel,
And have grasped but a wind-swayed weed;
Or where you deemed there would blossom a hope,
Found the ghost of an ill-starred deed—
And have grasped but a wind-swayed weed;
Or where you deemed there would blossom a hope,
Found the ghost of an ill-starred deed—
You may have longed for life's surge and its surfeit,
And been chained to a tread-mill of chance—
You may have fought with your banners foredoomed,
May have yielded or broken your lance—
And been chained to a tread-mill of chance—
You may have fought with your banners foredoomed,
May have yielded or broken your lance—
And yet—Ah! write not Defeat on your record,
Nor brood o'er your failures long past,
For there's ever and always Tomorrow
With its lure of winning at last.
Nor brood o'er your failures long past,
For there's ever and always Tomorrow
With its lure of winning at last.
VIGNETTES
SOMEWHERE upon a quiet strand
The little waves run home,
And somewhere o'er the hidden rocks
The white-caps snarl and foam.
The little waves run home,
And somewhere o'er the hidden rocks
The white-caps snarl and foam.
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