Next from the rising moon
It stole like a silver dart;
In the night when the wind began his tune
It woke with a sudden start.
This morning a trumpet blast
Made all the cottage quake;
It came so sudden and shook so fast
It blew me wide awake.
It told me I must make haste,
And some great glory win,
For every day was running to waste,
And at once I must begin.
I want to be great and strong,
I want to begin to-day;
But if you think it very wrong
I will send the wish away.
II.
The Father answers.
Wrong to wish to be great?
No, Willie; it is not wrong:
The child who stands at the high closed gate
Must wish to be tall and strong!
If you did not wish to grow
I should be a sorry man;
I should think my boy was dull and slow,
Nor worthy of his clan.
You are bound to be great, my boy:
Wish, and get up, and do.
Were you content to be little, my joy
Would be little enough in you.
Willie speaks.