Guerdon.
Every life has been a battle
That has won a noble guerdon—
Every soul that furls its pinions
In proud Fame's serene dominions,
Wearily has borne its burden.
Through long years of toil and darkness,
Years of trial and of sorrow—
Days of longing, nigh to madness,
Nights of such deep, rayless sadness,
Hope herself scarce dared to-morrow.
Therefore bear up, O brave toiler
In the world's benighted places!
Though Truth's glory light your forehead,
Purer souls than yours have sorrowed,
Tears have flowed on angel-faces.
Therefore, bear up, O ye toilers!
Teachers of the earth's dull millions.
Keep Truth's glory on each forehead,
And the way so blank and sorrowed
Shall lead on to heaven's pavilions.