Oh, you tears, I'm thankful that you run. Though you trickle in the darkness, You shall glitter in the sun. The rainbow could not shine if the rain r… - Charles Mackay

A traveller on a dusty road
⁠Strewed acorns on the lea;
And one took root and sprouted up,
⁠And grew into a tree.
Love sought its shade at evening-time,
⁠To breathe its early vows;
And Age was pleased, in heights of noon,
⁠To bask beneath its boughs.
The dormouse loved its dangling twigs,
⁠The birds sweet music bore — It stood a glory in its place,
⁠A blessing evermore.

You have no enemies, you say?
Alas, my friend, the boast is poor.
He who has mingled in the fray of duty that the brave endure, must have made foes. If you have none, small is the work that you have done.

You’ve hit no traitor on the hip.
You’ve dashed no cup from perjured lip.
You’ve never turned the wrong to right.
You’ve been a coward in the fight.

Here lies she who never lied; Whose skill often has been tried: Her prophecies shall still survive, And ever keep her name alive.