The endless mazes of some devilish dream,
And tempting visions haunt the fevered head,
Of the sharp knife-edge or the river’s bed.
Wrong? Oh, of course! Our duty lies,
In dull endurance to the end.
The faces pale, the pleading eyes,
Of wife and children, looks that rend
A fellow’s heart,
And make hot curses from his cold lips start,
These should not madden men unto the pitch,