TO
THE HEROIC SOUL
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I
NURTURE
thyself, O Soul, from the clear spring
That wells beneath the secret inner shrine;
Commune with its deep murmur,—'tis divine;
Be faithful to the ebb and flow that bring
The outer tide of Spirit to trouble and swing
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The
inlet of thy being. Learn to know
These powers, and life with all its venom and
show
Shall have no force to dazzle thee or sting:
AND
when Grief comes thou shalt have suffered more
Than all the deepest woes of all the world;
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Joy,
dancing in, shall find thee nourished with mirth;
Wisdom shall find her Master at thy door;
And Love shall find thee crowned with love empearled;
And death shall touch thee not but a new birth. |
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II
BE
strong, O warring soul! For very sooth
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Kings
are but wraiths, republics fade like rain,
Peoples are reaped and garnered as the grain,
And that alone prevails which is the truth:
Be strong when all the days of life bear ruth
And fury, and are hot with toil and strain:
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Hold
thy large faith and quell thy mighty pain:
Dream the great dream that buoys thine age with
youth.
THOU
art an eagle mewed in a sea-stopped cave:
He, poised in darkness with victorious wings,
Keeps night between the granite and the sea,
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Until
the tide has drawn the warder-wave:
Then from the portal where the ripple rings,
He bursts into the boundless morning,—free! |
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