A far look in absorbed eyes, unaware
Of what some gazer thrills to gather there;
Happy voice, singing to itself apart,
That pulses new blood through a listener's heart;
Bowed fortitude; and in an hour of dread
The scorn of all odds in a proud young head:
These are themselves, and being but what they are,
Of others' praise or pity have no care;
Yet still are magnets to an unknown need.
Invisible as the wind, sowing stray seed,
Life breathes on life, ignorant what it brings,
And spirit touches spirit on the strings
Where music is; courage from courage glows;
Shy powers in secret to themselves unclose;
And unbefriended hope in the cold dark
Nursing its patient solitary spark
Among the ashes of a world to--day
Will be to--morrow kindled far away
In young bosoms. O we have failed and failed
And never known if we or the world ailed,
Clouded and thwarted; yet perhaps the best
Of all we have done and dreamed of lives unguessed.