With joy, and joy to endure and be withstood,

And still to battle and perish for a dream of good: God, if that were enough?

If to feel, in the ink of the slough,
And the sink of the mire,

Veins of glory and fire

Run through and transpierce and transpire,
And a secret purpose of glory in every part,
And the answering glory of battle fill my heart;
To thrill with the joy of girded men,

To go on forever and fail and go on again,

And be mauled to the earth and arise,

And contend for the shade of a word and a thing not seen with the eyes:

With the half of a broken hope for a pillow at night That somehow the right is the right

And the smooth shall bloom from the rough:

Lord, if that were enough?

From CHARACTER OF THE HAPPY WARRIOR

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Whose powers shed round him in the common strife, Or mild concerns of ordinary life,

A constant influence, a peculiar grace;

But who, if he be called upon to face

Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined
Great issues, good or bad for human kind,

Is happy as a Lover; and attired

With sudden brightness, like a Man inspired

HEROISM

BY LIZETTE WOODWORTH Reese

Whether we climb, whether we plod,

...

Space for one task the scant years lend—
To choose some path that leads to God,
And keep it to the end.

From COLUMBUS

BY JOAQUIN MILLER

Behind him lay the great Azores,
Behind the Gates of Hercules,
Before him not the ghost of shores,
Before him only shoreless seas.

The good mate said: "Now must we pray;
For lo, the very stars are gone.

Brave Admiral, speak, what shall I say?"
"Why, say, Sail on, sail on, and on."

The men grew mutinous by day,

The men grew ghastly pale and weak;
The sad mate thought of home, a spray
Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek.
"What shall I say, brave Admiral, say
If we sight naught but seas at dawn?"

"Why you shall say, at break of day, Sail on, sail on, sail on, and on."

They sailed, they sailed. Then spoke the mate "This mad sea shows its teeth to-night,

He curls his lip, he lies in wait,

With lifted teeth, as if to bite.

Brave Admiral, say but one good word,
What shall we do when hope is gone?"
The words leaped as a flaming sword,-
"Sail on, sail on, sail on, and on."

ONE FIGHT MORE

BY THEODOSIA GARRISON

Now, think you, Life, I am defeated quite?
More than a single battle shall be mine
Before I yield the sword and give the sign
And turn, a crownless outcast, to the night.
Wounded, and yet unconquered in the fight,

I wait in silence till the day may shine. Once more upon my strength, and all the line Of your defences break before my might.

Mine be that warrior's blood who, stricken sore, Lies in his quiet chamber till he hears

Afar the clash and clang of arms, and knows The cause he lived for calls for him once more; And straightway rises, whole and void of fears, And armèd, turns him singing to his foes.

From ODE TO THE WEST WIND

BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

O! lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!

I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!

A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud.

Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:
What if my leaves are falling like its own!
The tumult of thy mighty harmonies

Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!

Drive my dead thoughts over the universe
Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!
And, by the incantation of this verse,

Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawakened earth

The trumpet of a prophecy! O wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

CLOSING LINES OF PROMETHEUS UNBOUND

BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Demorgorgon:

To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite;
To forgive wrongs darker than death or night;
To defy Power, which seems omnipotent;
To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates
From its own wreck the thing it contemplates;
Neither to change, nor falter, nor repent;
This, like thy glory, Titan, is to be
Good, great and joyous, beautiful and free;
This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory.

PSALM XCI

He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High Shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.

I will say of the LORD,

He is my refuge and my fortress:

My God; in him will I trust.

Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler,

And from the noisome pestilence.

He shall cover thee with his feathers,

And under his wings shalt thou trust:

His truth shall be thy shield and buckler.

Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night;