The people's mind in daily black and white; The crude clear picture of the people's will, Confused, distorted, clumsy to fulfil, Yet ever blundering onward to the light: What history is here for one to write Whose eye can read it! As the hidden rill Creeps through the marshes timorous and still But onward ever to the ocean's might, So through the muddy tangle of these lines, This daily gorge of gossip, of dispute, These floating shadows of obscure designs, These raucous cries, these aspirations mute, Gleam of a growing purpose softly shines: And ye who see it, gladden, and salute! |