"And can'st thou think to go?" I said,
"When all thy purposes of good Were balked by callous ignorance,
Close-linked with base ingratitude."
She looked me calmly in the face;
A shade, which noted sad surprise Stole o'er her placid countenance,
And spake from out her gentle eyes.
Her answer echoes down the years,
Illumes the hall in which she sat, Breaks through all cant of class or creed:—
"Those sick must not suffer for that.."
IV.
Emblazoned in archives of light
Those titles no worldling may hold; Whilst their star, in our nether sky,
Shines forth in a circlet of gold.
With practised eye, and tender hand,
With quiet mien, and noiseless tread, They grappled with the dire disease,
Or soothed the sufferer's dying bed.
They listed, with a patient mind,
The longings of the exiled one; Or treasured, for a mother's ear,
The last faint accents of her son.
Yea! all along that tardy night,
Black with the bitterness of woe, They toiled in unison with those
Whose skill[Note] and courage foiled the foe.
Fame proudly vaunts her hero dead;
Ambition's tools, in glory's van; Thrice worthy he of lasting wreath,
Who lives for God, and dies for man.
Ah me! for the silent martyr
Whose tireless feet so surely trod The pathway leading on and up
Towards the city of our God.