Page:The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman, 1908.djvu/187

DARTMOUTH ODE Here, in the gracious world that looks

From earth and sky and books,

Easeful and sweet it seems all else to scorn

Than works of noble use and virtue born;

Brave hope and high ambition consecrate

Our coming years to something great.

But when the man has stood,

Anon, in garish outer light,

Feeling the first wild fever of the blood

That places self with self at strife

Whether to hoard or drain the wine of life,—

When the broad pageant flares upon the sight,

And tuneful Pleasure plumes her wing

And the crowds jostle and the mad bells ring,—

Then he, who sees the vain world take slow heed

Albeit of his worthiest and best,

And still, through years of failure and unrest,

Would keep inviolate his vow,

Of all his faith and valor has sore need!

Even then, I know, do nobly as we will,

What we would not, we do, and see not how;

That which we would, is not, we know not why;

Some fortune holds us from our purpose still,—

Chance sternly beats us back, and turns our steps awry!

VI

YOUTH AND AGE

slow, how sure, how swift,

The sands within each glass,

The brief, illusive moments, pass!

Half unawares we mark their drift

Till the awakened heart cries out,—Alas!

Alas, the fair occasion fled,

The precious chance to action all unwed!

And murmurs in its depths the old refrain,—

Had we but known betimes what now we know in vain!

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