At noon it spake aloud, “Make smooth the way
For other feet. Bend to thy task, tho weight
Of sorrow press thee. Others dower, tho fate
Deny thy secret wish.” Through later day
It warns, “Climb on! Heights woo! The waning light
Bids haste! Yet scorn not those who lag behind,
Confused by lengthening rays that clear thy sight,
These, too, have striv’n all day their way to find.”
At eve, when flaming sunset fades, O hear
Dawn’s echoing call, “Go forward without fear.”