The star of the unconquered will,
He rises to my breast;
Serene and resolute and still,
And calm and self-possessed.
Oh, fear not in a world like this,
And thou shalt know ere long,
Know how sublime a thing it is,
To suffer and be strong.
—H. W. Longfellow.
SERVICE
When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide—
Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?
I fondly ask: But Patience to prevent
That murmur soon replies: God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts: who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best: His state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.
—John Milton.
WHEN THE BIRDS GO NORTH AGAIN
Oh, every year hath its winter,
And every year hath its rain—
But a day is always coming
When the birds go north again.
When new leaves swell in the forest,
And grass springs green on the plain,
And the alder's veins turn crimson—
And the birds go north again.
Oh, every heart hath its sorrow,
And every heart hath its pain—
But a day is always coming
When the birds go north again.
'Tis the sweetest thing to remember
If courage be on the wane,
When the cold, dark days are over—
Why, the birds go north again.
—Ella Higginson.