"Thy will is the sovereign measure And only events of things: The puniest heart, defying, Were stronger than all these Kings. "Though out of the past they gather, Mind's Doubt, and Bodily Pain, And pallid Thirst of the Spirit That is kin to the other twain, "And Grief, in a cloud of banners, And ringletted Vain Desires, And Vice, with the spoils upon him Of thee and thy beaten sires, -- "While Kings of eternal evil Yet darken the hills about, Thy part is with broken sabre To rise on the last redoubt; "To fear not sensible failure, Nor covet the game at all, But fighting, fighting, fighting, Die, driven against the wall." Mockery. [Louis Untermeyer] God, I return to You on April days When along country roads You walk with me, And my faith blossoms like the earliest tree That shames the bleak world with its yellow sprays -- My faith revives, when through a rosy haze The clover-sprinkled hills smile quietly, Young winds uplift a bird's clean ecstasy . . . For this, O God, my joyousness and praise! But now -- the crowded streets and choking airs, The squalid people, bruised and tossed about; These, or the over-brilliant thoroughfares, The too-loud laughter and the empty shout, The mirth-mad city, tragic with its cares . . . For this, O God, my silence -- and my doubt. An Ode in Time of Hesitation. [William Vaughn Moody] I Before the solemn bronze Saint Gaudens made To thrill the heedless passer's heart with awe, And set here in the city's talk and trade To the good memory of Robert Shaw, This bright March morn I stand, And hear the distant spring come up the land; Knowing that what I hear is not unheard Of this boy soldier and his Negro band, For all their gaze is fixed so stern ahead, For all the fatal rhythm of their tread. The land they died to save from death and shame Trembles and waits, hearing the spring's great name, And by her pangs these resolute ghosts are stirred. II Through street and mall the tides of people go Heedless; the trees upon the Common show No hint of green; but to my listening heart The still earth doth impart Assurance of her jubilant emprise, And it is clear to my long-searching eyes That love at last has might upon the skies. The ice is runneled on the little pond; A telltale patter drips from off the trees; The air is touched with Southland spiceries, As if but yesterday it tossed the frond Of pendant mosses where the live-oaks grow Beyond Virginia and the Carolines, Or had its will among the fruits and vines Of aromatic isles asleep beyond Florida and the Gulf of Mexico. III