'TIS the part of a coward to brood O'er the past that is withered and dead: What though the heart's roses are ashes and dust? What though the heart's music be fled? Still shine the grand heavens o'er-head, Whence the voice of an angel thrills clear on the soul, "Gird about thee thine armor, press on to the goal!" If the faults or the crimes of thy youth Are a burden too heavy to bear, What hope can rebloom on the desolate waste Of a jealous and craven despair Down, down with the fetters of fear! In the strength of thy valor and manhood arise, With the faith that illumes and the will that defies. "@3Too late!@1" through God's infinite world, From his throne to life's nethermost fires, "@3Too late!@1" is a phantom that flies at the dawn Of the soul that repents and aspires. If pure thou hast made thy desires. There's no height the strong wings of immortals may gain Which in striving to reach thou shalt strive for in vain. Then, up to the contest with fate, Unbound by the past, which is dead! What though the heart's roses are ashes and dust? What though the heart's music be fled? Still shine the fair heavens o'erhead; And sublime as the seraph who rules in the sun Beams the promise of joy when the conflict is won! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PLUTARCH by AGATHIAS SCHOLASTICUS THE CONSOLATION by LEVI BISHOP THE GREAT ADVENTURE (WITH ACKNOWLEDGMENTS TO GEORGE MATTHEW ADAMS) by BERTON BRALEY VERSES ON PREACHING EXTEMPORE by JOHN BYROM UPON READING A VOLUME OF ANCIENT CHINESE POETRY by THOMAS CURTIS CLARK |