This grasping firmly what that flashed to feel,—
The velvet scabbard and the sword of steel,
The gift to strongly love, to frankly hate!
Patience as strong as was her hopefulness;
A joy in living which grew never less
As years went on and age drew gravely nigh;
Vision which pierced the veiling mists of pain,
And saw beyond the mortal shadows plain
The eternal day-dawn broadening in the sky.
The love of Doing, and the scorn of Done;