Scorned, spurned and scoffed, I am content to stand Within the shadow of your heart and wait, As though a beggar at its iron gate, To ask one word of you who have command: And it may be ere dusk the restless band That hunt you with the keen-edged swords of hate Will find your hidden refuge, but the fate That enters it must first with me try hand. The wanderer who hovers there to win A smile from you will let no Evil in. His only weapon is the steel of truth, A single sword to keep the world away, -- But many are the foes have fallen prey Unto the courage of immortal youth! |