Page:The Yellow Book - 05.djvu/276

248 I know The Traveller bade them lay Anigh the street his weary clay, Because he saw in all things good, And heard above the thundering street The brave young Lark that singeth sweet Of helping hands and brotherhood. He knew what it is good to know, When down the Dale o'Dreams we go— That living brothers still are near; And some struck sore in battle-test Come to our side, a moment rest, Then back to buffet with a cheer. Ah, Noll, thou singest yet, though dead, A song that calms our coward dread Of Life and Life s benumbing din. With larger faith I turn me back To where the stream runs strong and black, And, greatly hoping, plunge me in.