VIII.
Upon the dark and stormy roads I walk, bare-footed, poor; I onward pass, naked and hungry, through life's cold and night; only one light can brighten there my way and feed my strength,—the light of daring, burning in my breast; it helps me more than stars and more than moons. No sun in heaven can kindle it in me, but I must get it from myself, striking my spirit against the hard experiences of life, that the breast might catch the spark as does dry tinder when the steel strikes the flint.