But some day the live coal behind the thought, Or from the shrine serene Of God's pure altar brought, Bursts up in flame; the war of tongue and pen Shakes all the pillared state with shock of men: And cries reproachful: "Was it, then, my praise, And loyalty to Truth be sealed But then to stand beside her, Who stand self-poised on manhood's solid earth, Fed from within with all the strength he needs. HOW SLEEP THE BRAVE BY WILLIAM COLLINS How sleep the Brave who sink to rest By fairy hands their knell is rung; TWO VETERANS 1 BY WALT WHITMAN The last sunbeam Lightly falls from the finished Sabbath, On the pavement here, and there beyond it is looking 1 Down a new-made double grave. 1By permission of the publisher, David McKay, Philadelphia. |