A BEACON FACE

To-day a passing throng with anxious pace
Brought me a glimpse of one sweet, noble face
Transfigured by the tenderness and grace
Of seasoned sorrow and a hard-lost race.
It shamed me that I looked so sullen, sad,
When I, full richly blessed and amply clad
Should live in smiles and making others glad,
And keep within whatever spite I had.
This face, whose smile was built on grief lived through,
Both lifted up my own, yet warned me too,
For as the shining beacon, born of barren rocks
And reared on reefs that hide their rending shocks
Would not be there dispensing its warm light
Were there not dangers lodged in wily night;
Just so, this passing, patient face
Could ne'er have touched me at my hurried pace
But for the courage of its tender grace
That came with sorrow and a hard-lost race.