A great grieved heart, an iron will, As fearless blood as ever ran; A form elate with nervous strength And fibrous vigor, -- all a man. A gallant rein, a restless spur, The hand to wield a biting scourge; Small patience for the tasks of time, Unmeasured power to speed and urge. He rides the errand of the hour, But sends no herald on his ways; The world would thank the service done, He cannot stay for gold or praise. Not lavishly he casts abroad The glances of an eye intense, And, did he smile but once a year, It were a Christmas recompense. I thank a poet for his name, The "Down of Darkness" this should be; A child, who knows no risk it runs, Might stroke its roughness harmlessly. One helpful gift the gods forgot, Due to the man of lion mood; A woman's soul to match with his In high resolve and hardihood. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPRING, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE MEMORIAL TABLET (GREAT WAR, 1918) by SIEGFRIED SASSOON ARMY CORRESPONDENT'S LAST RIDE; FIVE FORKS, APRIL 1, 1865 by GEORGE ALFRED TOWNSEND JOHN UNDERHILL by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER GREAT THOUGHTS by PHILIP JAMES BAILEY ANDRE by CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES RHODE ISLAND by CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES |