DISCIPLINE.
41
XVIII.
Poet wanderer, hast thou bent thee
O'er such ruins of the soul?
Pray to God that some Nepenthe
May efface that hour of dole.
We may lift the shrine and column,
From the dust which Time hath cast;
Choral chants may mingle solemn,
Once again where silence passed;
Poet wanderer, hast thou bent thee
O'er such ruins of the soul?
Pray to God that some Nepenthe
May efface that hour of dole.
We may lift the shrine and column,
From the dust which Time hath cast;
Choral chants may mingle solemn,
Once again where silence passed;
ΧΙΧ.
But the stately, radiant palace,
We had built up in our dreams,
With Hope's rainbow-woven trellis,
And Truth's glorious sunrise beams;
Our aims of towering stature,
Our aspirations vain,
And our prostrate human nature—
Who will raise them up again?
But the stately, radiant palace,
We had built up in our dreams,
With Hope's rainbow-woven trellis,
And Truth's glorious sunrise beams;
Our aims of towering stature,
Our aspirations vain,
And our prostrate human nature—
Who will raise them up again?
DISCIPLINE.
I.
LOSE the starry dream-portal,
We must tread earth again,
Flashes no light immortal
Now on life's dreary plain.
We must wait, like the Stoic,
Brave, enduring, and strong,
Till the soul's strength heroic
Bends the fetters of wrong.
LOSE the starry dream-portal,We must tread earth again,
Flashes no light immortal
Now on life's dreary plain.
We must wait, like the Stoic,
Brave, enduring, and strong,
Till the soul's strength heroic
Bends the fetters of wrong.
II.
By the lore life has brought us,
We shall fathom man's soul;
By the tears sorrow taught us,
We shall measure their dole.
Guide them on through affliction,
All earth's Saviours have trod,
By the lore life has brought us,
We shall fathom man's soul;
By the tears sorrow taught us,
We shall measure their dole.
Guide them on through affliction,
All earth's Saviours have trod,
