* * * * *
Death in Life
The song of work, I know,
Has here its minor tone;
And in its ever-changing flow,
Death, death in life is known.
Discordant notes, alas!
So often cleave the air
And smite the music as they pass,
And leave their poison there.
And oft, ah me! from some
Wild region of the heart
Will startling intimations come,
And peace at once depart.
With open foes without,
And secret foes within,
His heart must needs be brave and stout
That would life's battle win.
Evil
In the great wilderness
Through which I hold my way,
Is there no refuge from distress,
Where foes are kept at bay?
Saint Anthony of old
Could not from evil flee;
The desert cave was found to hold
His mortal enemy.
And knew untiring Paul
The world's relentless scorn;
While in his flesh, amid it all,
He bore another thorn.
Our common lot is cast
In a great camp of pain!
Until the night be over-past,
Some foe will yet remain.
* * * * *
With His Foes
The king of beasts was dead--
By an old hero slain;
Did dreams of honey for his bread
Dance through the hero's brain?
Or did he chafe at this:
That pain is everywhere?
Down, down, thou fabled right to bliss,
Life is to do and bear!
Beguiled, enslaved, made blind,
Yet unsubdued in will,
He kept the old heroic mind
To serve his country still.
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