Noble deeds are held in honor, but the wide world sorely needs
Hearts of patience to unravel this,—the worth of common deeds.”
As the darkened earth forever to the morning turns again;
As the dreaming soldier, after all the perilous campaign,
Struggling long with horse and rider, in his sleep smites fiercely out,
And, with sudden pang awaking, through the darkness peers about,—
Hearing but the crickets chirrup loud, beneath his chimney-stone,
Feeling but the warm heart throbbing, in the form beside his own,—
Then to knowledge of his hamlet, dearer for the toil he knows,
Comes at last, content to nestle in the sweets of his repose,