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VOICES OF THE EVENING, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: The sailors were chanting their measured songs
Last Line: Till the fire of youth be past.


THE sailors were chanting their measured songs
To the throb of the glittering oar,
And each ripple seemed laden with melody,
As it broke on the silent shore.

And the sun went down in the burning sky,
And the western wave grew bright,
As the day, like a dream of loveliness,
Melted in misty light.

And a spirit within me seemed to say
Farewell to the paths of toil,
Farewell to the strife of the labouring pen,
The strife of the barren soil.

I ask not the will that can hew its way
Where the battles of life are fought,
Or the mind that can melt down the world of dreams
In the fire of searching thought.

No lovelier light adorns the sky
Than the trembling light of the star,
And the mind that shines with a wavering beam
Is the best and the loveliest far.

I ask not to climb to Wealth's glittering heights,
Or to stand where Fame's sunflush glows,
But the twilight calm and the valley's shade,
And the violet more than the rose.

But the sun sank down, and a keen, fresh breeze
Renerved my spirit again,
And a voice came floating over the waves,
And it told of strife with men.

For life is a struggle and not a dream,
And ambition's power must last,
Till the first fresh strength of the mind be gone,
Till the fire of youth be past.





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