So many a Hero walks unseen beside us, Till comes the supreme stroke sent to divide us. Then the Lord calls his own--like this man, even, Carried, Elijah-like, fire-winged, to heaven. --Dinah Maria Mulock Craik. Unless above himself he can Erect himself, how poor a thing is man. --Samuel Daniel. BATTLES Nay, not for place, but for the right, To make this fair world fairer still-- Or lowly lily of the night, Or sun topped tower of a hill, Or high or low, or near or far, Or dull or keen, or bright or dim, Or blade of grass, or brightest star-- All, all are but the same to him. O pity of the strife for place! O pity of the strife for power! How scarred, how marred a mountain's face! How fair the face of a flower! The blade of grass beneath your feet The bravest sword--aye, braver far To do and die in mute defeat Than bravest conqueror of war! When I am dead, say this, but this: "He grasped at no man's blade or shield. Or banner bore, but helmetless, Alone, unknown, he held the field; He held the field, with sabre drawn, Where God had set him in the fight; He held the field, fought on and on, And so fell, fighting for the right!" --Joaquin Miller. While thus to love he gave his days In loyal worship, scorning praise, How spread their lures for him in vain, Thieving Ambition and paltering Gain! He thought it happier to be dead, To die for Beauty than live for bread. --Ralph Waldo Emerson. Whether we climb, whether we plod, Space for one task the scant years lend, To choose some path that leads to God, And keep it to the end. --Lizette Woodworth Reese. Bravely to do whate'er the time demands, Whether with pen or sword, and not to flinch, This is the task that fits heroic hands; So are Truth's boundaries widened, inch by inch. --James Russell Lowell. COURAGE CONSTANCY, CONFIDENCE, STRENGTH, VALOR THE BATTLEFIELD Once this soft turf, this rivulet's sands, Were trampled by a hurrying crowd, And fiery hearts and armed hands Encountered in the battle cloud. Ah! never shall the land forget How gushed the life-blood of her brave-- Gushed, warm with life and courage yet, Upon the soil they fought to save. Now all is calm and fresh and still, Alone the chirp of flitting bird, And talks of children on the hill, And bell of wandering kine are heard. No solemn host goes trailing by The black-mouthed gun and staggering wain; Men start not at the battle-cry; Oh, be it never heard again! Soon rested those who fought; but thou Who minglest in the harder strife For truths which men receive not now, Thy warfare only ends with life.