Courage, struggling through the darkness, stout of heart and gladsome,
Ran up the shining ladder which the voice of Hope had made;
And tripping lightly by his side, a sweet-eyed helpmate with him,
I looked upon her face to welcome pleasant Cheerfulness;
And a babe was cradled in her bosom, a laughing little prattler,
The child of Cheerfulness and Courage,—could his name be other than Success?
So, from his happy wife, when they both stood beside me on the mountain,
The fond father took that babe, and set him on his shoulder in the sunshine.
Again I peered into the valley, for I heard a gasping moan,
A desolate weak cry, as muffled in the vapours.