O Thou who lovest not alone
The swift success, the instant goal,
But hast a lenient eye to mark
The failures of the inconstant soul,
Consider not my little worth--
The mean achievement, scamped in act--
The high resolve and low result,
The dream that durst not face the fact.
But count the reach of my desire--
Let this be something in thy sight;
I have not, in the slothful dark,
Forgot the vision and the height.
Neither my body nor my soul
To earth's low ease will yield consent.
I praise thee for the will to strive;
I bless thy goad and discontent.
--Charles G. D. Roberts.