Courage

If I must go to heaven's end
Climbing the ages like a stair,
Be near me and forever bend
With the same eyes above me there;
Time will fly past us like leaves flying,
We shall not heed, for we shall be
Beyond living, beyond dying,
Knowing and known unchangeably.

How the wind howls this morn
About the end of May,
And drives June on apace
To mock the world forlorn
And the world's joy passed away
And my unlonged-for face!
The world's joy passed away;
For no more may I deem
That any folk are glad
To see the dawn of day
Sunder the tangled dream
Wherein no grief they had.
Ah, through the tangled dream
Where others have no grief
Ever it fares with me
That fears and treasons stream
And dumb sleep slays belief
Whatso therein may be.
Sleep slayeth all belief
Until the hopeless light
Wakes at the birth of June
More lying tales to weave,
More love in woe's despite,
More hope to perish soon.

More than a hundred years ago, in a great battle fought near Delhi, an Indian Prince rode fifty miles after the day was lost with a beggar-girl, who had loved him and followed him in all his camps, on his saddle-bow.He lost the girl when almost within sight of safety.
A Maratta trooper tells the story:,


The wreath of banquet overnight lay withered on the neck,
Our hands and scarfs were saffron-dyed for signal of despair,
When we went forth to Paniput to battle with the ~Mlech~,,
Ere we came back from Paniput and left a kingdom there.

Thrice thirty thousand men were we to force the Jumna fords,
The hawk-winged horse of Damajee, mailed squadrons of the Bhao,
Stark levies of the southern hills, the Deccan's sharpest swords,
And he the harlot's traitor son the goatherd Mulhar Rao!...

    Jack would laugh an' joke all day;
    Never saw a lad so gay;
    Singin' like a medder lark,
    Loaded to the Plimsoll mark
    With God's sunshine was that boy;
    Had a strangle-holt on Joy.
    Held his head 'way up in air,
    Left no callin' cards on Care;
    Breezy, buoyant, brave and true;
    Sent his sunshine out to you;
    Cheerfulest when clouds was black -
    Happy Jack! Oh, Happy Jack!

    Sittin' in my shack alone
    I could hear him in his own,
    Singin' far into the night,
    Till it didn't seem just right
    One man should corral the fun,
    Live his life so in the sun;
    Didn't seem quite natural
    Not to have a grouch at all;
    Not a trouble, not a lack -
    Happy Jack! Oh, Happy Jack!

So humble things Thou hast borne for us, O God,
Left'st Thou a path of lowliness untrod?
Yes, one, till now; another Olive-Garden.
For we endure the tender pain of pardon,--
One with another we forbear.    Give heed,
Look at the mournful world Thou hast decreed.
The time has come.    At last we hapless men
Know all our haplessness all through.    Come, then,
Endure undreamed humility: Lord of Heaven,
Come to our ignorant hearts and be forgiven.

On the shores of Gitche Gumee,
Of the shining Big-Sea-Water,
Stood Nokomis, the old woman,
Pointing with her finger westward,
O'er the water pointing westward,
To the purple clouds of sunset.
    Fiercely the red sun descending
Burned his way along the heavens,
Set the sky on fire behind him,
As war-parties, when retreating,
Burn the prairies on their war-trail;
And the moon, the Night-sun, eastward,
Suddenly starting from his ambush,
Followed fast those bloody footprints,
Followed in that fiery war-trail,
With its glare upon his features.
    And Nokomis, the old woman,
Pointing with her finger westward,
Spake these words to Hiawatha:
"Yonder dwells the great Pearl-Feather,
Megissogwon, the Magician,
Manito of Wealth and Wampum,
...

I'm a gentle, meek, and patient human worm;
                Unattractive,
                Rather active,
With a sense of right, original but firm.
            I was taught to be forgiving,
                For my enemies to pray;
            But what's the use of living
                If you never can repay
All the little animosities that in your bosom burn -
Oh, it's pleasant to remember that "the worm will turn."

I'm so gentle and so patient and so meek,
                Unpretending,
                Unoffending.
But if, perchance, you smite me on the cheek,
            I will never turn the other,
                As I was taught to do
            By a puritanic mother,
                Whose theology was blue.
Your experience will widen when e...

    Once fondly lov'd and still remember'd dear;
        Sweet early object of my youthful vows!
    Accept this mark of friendship, warm, sincere,
        Friendship! 'tis all cold duty now allows.

    And when you read the simple artless rhymes,
        One friendly sigh for him, he asks no more,
    Who distant burns in flaming torrid climes,
        Or haply lies beneath th' Atlantic roar.

Away to the west! Westward ho! Westward ho!
Where over the prairies the summer winds blow!

Why known to so few were its rivers and plains,
Where rustle so tall in their ripeness the grains?
The bison and Red-men alone cared to roam
O'er realms that to millions must soon give a home;
The vast fertile levels Old Time loved to reap
The haymaker's song hath awakened from sleep.

Away to the West! Westward ho! Westward ho!
Why waited we fearing to plant and to sow?

Not ours was the waiting! By God was ordained
The hour when the ocean's grey steeds were up-reined,
And green marshes rose, and the bittern's abode
Became the Lone Land where the wild hunter strode,
And soils with grass harvests grew rich, and the clime
For us was prepared in the fulness of T...

Silent, oh Moyle, be the roar of thy water,
    Break not, ye breezes, your chain of repose,
While, murmuring mournfully, Lir's lonely daughter
    Tells to the night-star her tale of woes.
When shall the swan, her death-note singing,
Sleep, with wings in darkness furled?
When will heaven, its sweet bell ringing,
Call my spirit from this stormy world?

Sadly, oh Moyle, to thy winter wave weeping,
Fate bids me languish long ages away;
Yet still in her darkness doth Erin lie sleeping,
Still doth the pure light its dawning delay.
When will that day-star, mildly springing,
Warm our isle with peace and love?
When will heaven, its sweet bell ringing,
Call my spirit to the fields above?

Love is the sunlight of the soul,
That, shining on the silken-tressèd head
Of her we love, around it seems to shed
A golden angel-aureole.

And all her ways seem sweeter ways
Than those of other women in that light:
She has no portion with the pallid night,
But is a part of all fair days.

Joy goes where she goes, and good dreams,
Her smile is tender as an old romance
Of Love that dies not, and her soft eye’s glance
Like sunshine set to music seems.

Queen of our fate is she, but crowned
With purple hearts-ease for her womanhood.
There is no place so poor where she has stood
But evermore is holy ground.

An angel from the heaven above
Would not be fair to us as she is fair:
She holds us in a mesh of silken hair,
This one swee...

With many a thousand kiss not yet content,

At length with One kiss I was forced to go;

After that bitter parting's depth of woe,
I deem'd the shore from which my steps I bent,

Its hills, streams, dwellings, mountains, as I went,

A pledge of joy, till daylight ceased to glow;

Then on my sight did blissful visions grow
In the dim-lighted, distant firmament,

And when at length the sea confined my gaze,

My ardent longing fill'd my heart once more;

What I had lost, unwillingly I sought.

Then Heaven appear'd to shed its kindly rays:

Methought that all I had possess'd of yore

Remain'd still mine that I was reft of nought.

My soul would one day go and seek
For roses, and in Julia's cheek
A richess of those sweets she found,
As in another Rosamond;
But gathering roses as she was,
Not knowing what would come to pass,
it chanced a ringlet of her hair
Caught my poor soul, as in a snare;
Which ever since has been in thrall;
Yet freedom she enjoys withal.

I dreamed that I stood in a valley, and amid sighs,
For happy lovers passed two by two where I stood;
And I dreamed my lost love came stealthily out of the wood
With her cloud-pale eyelids falling on dream-dimmed eyes:
I cried in my dream ‘O women bid the young men lay
‘Their heads on your knees, and drown their eyes with your hair,
‘Or remembering hers they will find no other face fair
‘Till all the valleys of the world have been withered away.’

To bid the brave White Chief adieu,
on the shady shore gathered the warriors;
His glad boatmen manned the canoe,
and the oars in their hands were impatient.
Spake the Chief of Isántees:
"A feast will await the return of my brother.
In peace rose the sun in the East,
in peace in the West he descended.
May the feet of my brother be swift
till they bring him again to our teepees,
The red pipe he takes as a gift,
may he smoke that red pipe many winters.
At my lodge-fire his pipe shall be lit,
when the White Chief returns to Kathága;
On the robes of my tee shall he sit;
he shall smoke with the chiefs of my people.
The brave love the brave, and his son
sends the Chief as a guide for his brother,
By the way of the Wákpa Wakán<...