Page:Captain Craig; a book of poems.djvu/171

Rh Your faith—your love."—The gleam grew small, The stroke was easy, and he died.

I saw the dim look change itself To one that never will be dim; I saw the dead flesh to the grave, But that was not the last of him.

For what was his to live lives yet: Truth, quarter truth, death cannot reach; Nor is it always what we know That we are fittest here to teach.

The fight goes on when fields are still, The triumph clings when arms are down; The jewels of all coronets Are pebbles of the unseen crown;

The specious weight of loud reproof Sinks where a still conviction floats; And on God's ocean after storm Time's wreckage is half pilot-boats;

And what wet faces wash to sight Thereafter feed the common moan;— But Vanderberg no pilot had, Nor could have: he was all alone.