I Have Lived Life Long Enough To

How Gently Rock Yon Poplars High Against The Reach Of Primrose Sky With Heaven's Pale Candles Stored.

And Bitter Waxed The Fray; Brother With Brother Spake No Word When They Met In The Way.

There Is But Halting For The Wearied Foot; The Better Way Is Hidden. Faith Hath Failed; One Stronger Far Than Reason Mastered Her. It Is Not Reason Makes Faith Hard, But Life.

Work Is Its Own Best Earthly Meed, Else Have We None More Than The Sea-born Throng Who Wrought Those Marvellous Isles That Bloom Afar.

Reign, And Keep Life In This Our Deep Desireour Only Greatness Is That We Aspire.