Lay in the hour you laughed and kissed;
Who knows but what your son shall wear
The laurels that his father missed?
Ay, you who win, and you who lose,
Whether you triumph,—or despair,—
When your returning footsteps choose
The homeward track, our love is there.
For, since the world is ordered thus,
To you the fame, the stress, the sword,
We can but wait, until to us