Travail

 The crimson rides the universal wind, The raven spreads his pinions, follows after, The eagles, leaden-winged, are left behind: The old foundations shake from sill to rafter Deal to the doubters' jeers, the weaklings' means. The toilers, tired of yielding and false giving Bend to the mighty task, with solacing groans, Of making the earth fit for human living. My ear is tuned unto new voices shrieking Their jarring notes of life-exalting strife: My soul soars singing, with flame forces seeking The grandest purpose, noblest path of life: Where scarlet pennants blaze like tongues of fire, There—where high passion swells—is my heart's desire.