We wait to do some mighty deed
Worthy the lords of old renown,
And the world waits for that small seed
Of simple truth we might have sown,
That, growing, evermore had made
A broadening sabbath in its shade.
Not seeing how God builds high and vast
By little hands, a man may be
Too humble, and let Power go past
To crown some low fidelity.
Too humble? Nay; too proud to stand
The cypher that makes Number grand!
Should the weak runnels waste in reeds
Their tribute to the sea, the sea
Would shrink and fall; for Ocean needs
The dewdrop, as the world needs thee.
From Truth’s clear well the slenderest rill
May all the thirsty valleys fill.
Was it too poor a thing to do,
To trim thy little, twilight lamp,
When tempest all her clarions blew
Above the billows’ charging tramp?
The proud three-decker saw that ray,
And held aloof its perilous way!
We know not, in the narrow rings
Where darkly bound we work or wait,
Of all our thousand little things
Which shall be father of the great;
But this we know, – the road from less
To more is paved with faithfulness.
The bird that like a shuttle flies
From north to south, from south to north,
At first his budding pinion tries
From nest to bough, from bough to earth;
Then, when his summer day is spent,
With one flight clears the continent.
Thou conquering voyager, sad, alone
Chasing afar thy dream sublime, —
By strange stars, over seas unknown, —
To poise a world, to announce the rhyme
Of hemispheres! we know in this
Thy thousand nameless victories!
The poet of a deathless song, —
Warble of flute or trumpet-blast, —
That lifts us over grief and wrong,
So wears the laurel it shall cast
A shadow o’er the scars that tell
Of silent battles, won so well.
Who seeks to gild his glory’s dome
Before the nether walls are laid,
May cheat some dazzled eye at home,
But never wind, nor lightning’s blade;
Tempest and time have only scorn
For grandeurs, if not lowly born.
Deep in the dark of dusky soils
The proud sequoia strikes her roots;
The tallest geyser overboils
From flames the central burning shoots;
So from the torn heart’s glowing deep
The words of loftiest cheer may leap!
From Less to More