IN A GARDEN.

Thought is a garden wide and old
For airy creatures to explore,
Where grow the great fantastic flowers
With truth for honey at the core.

There like a wild marauding bee
Made desperate by hungry fears,
From gorgeous If to dark Perhaps
I blunder down the dusk of years.

AT THE END OF THE DAY.

There is no escape by the river,
There is no flight left by the fen;
We are compassed about by the shiver
Of the night of their marching men. 
Give a cheer! 
For our hearts shall not give way. 
Here’s to a dark to-morrow,
And here’s to a brave to-day!

The tale of their hosts is countless,
And the tale of ours a score;
But the palm is naught to the dauntless,
And the cause is more and more. 
Give a cheer! 
We may die, but not give way. 
Here’s to a silent morrow,
And here’s to a stout to-day!

God has said:  “Ye shall fail and perish;
But the thrill ye have felt to-night
I shall keep in my heart and cherish
When the worlds have passed in night.” 
Give a cheer! 
For the soul shall not give way. 
Here’s to the greater to-morrow
That is born of a great to-day!

Now shame on the craven truckler
And the puling things that mope! 
We’ve a rapture for our buckler
That outwears the wings of hope. 
Give a cheer! 
For our joy shall not give way. 
Here’s in the teeth of to-morrow
To the glory of to-day!

THIS BOOK WAS PRINTED BY JOHN WILSON
AND SON, AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE,
MASSACHUSETTS, DURING OCTOBER,
1896.