Poems (Kennedy)/The Creepers
THE CREEPERS
WHY is it that the worth-while things Seem always those we may not do?Ambition-cursed, we sit beside The quiet ways that never knewThe stir of life
And hear the whir of great events, The sweep of mighty deeds go past,And feel within our souls the thrill; and yet From sharing in them holden fastBy bonds of fate.
We dream of greatness day by day, And day by day do petty things;We know that we could fly, but must Quiescent stand with folded wingsAt duty's side.
And yet—how can we know but in the end, When life blooms to eternity,We may not find the little deeds Rose-bright with immortalityBecause of love?
For it may chance that in the plan Of life and death and after-days,God counts the hourly tasks well done Greater than hero deeds of praiseThat shake the world.