POETRY.
ON LAST LOOKING INTO SMILES' " SELF-HELP."
Mimi musing have I read of strenuous men,—
Of soldier, painter, craftsman, those who wrought And reaped success, and now in this world's ken Loom largely ; whom our younger ones are taught To mould their lives on. Yet the more my thought Turns towards the losing side, that unsung band Of broken hearts who, ever failing, fought The long, long battle, while the iron hand Aye pressed them backward from their high emprise Until they perished. And the rabble rout Still rushes with stretched neck and staring eyes
To greet the coming man. So, let them shout,—
Faint grow the echoes of their rude applause ; Blot out that huckstering tale of gain and loss.
Behold the Leader of a vanquished cause, His arms extended ou the bitter cross !
What of the weak things of the earth ? Of those
Who found no helper, or he came too late Of all that spectre multitude, who knows Aught of their struggle with malignant fate P Is there no Homer for the beaten side ?
Are they beneath the wisdom of the wise ? The pity of the good P Let fools deride ; The tattered troops of Failure high I'll prize.
Such the brave sailor who with all his host Slow, month by month, leashed in by fool's commands, Rotted to death along the deadly coast, And left the victory for another's hands.
And such was he who, born to guide a State, Sunk in decay and gasping in death's throes, Fell on the threshold of the captured gate, Burst inward by the rush of Moslem foes.
HAROLD B. H.snmsois.
Previous page
