Page:Fifes and Drums, Poems of America at War, Vigilantes, 1917.djvu/94



"For all her busyness and prate,

Too easy-going to be great,

She wastes her soul and winks at Fate:

Poor foolish virgin who'll not trim

Her lamp, even when its light grows dim;

Capricious, ruled by chance and whim.

Her soft good-nature cannot brook

The anguish of a steady look

Upon Time's hourly posted Book:

Time's Book, wherein is written plain

The loss that follows slothful gain,

The doom of all who shrink from pain.