And the rarest wisdom emanates from those whose steps are slow,
And those whose eyes are blind to sights that glisten for a day,
See glories far transcendent that can never fade away.
So I like to loiter back a bit; the crowd may surge along.
Perhaps for some it’s pleasant thus to jostle with the throng;
But I find my life grows richer, even drinking sorrow’s cup,
With the weary and unfortunate who cannot quite keep up!
[HEROES]
There are heroes who fall ’mid the carnage of battle,