Classic Poem

Yea, “Time and I;” so is it with us all.
Long patience, bitter suffering, sad defeat,
Ere victory and our triumph high we meet,—
Ere those grim towers of tribulation fall,
Yet one day with a singing soft and sweet
Shall gladness find us, bearing in her hands
For a fair crown, the praise of many lands,
And praise of lips proud conquering lips may greet.

I struggle slowly on: I wreathe my flowers
Of singing in a garland for the few
Who listen to the labour of long hours
With gentle hearts:—sharp toil I must renew,
Building the fabric of a gradual name,
Till “Time and I” becometh “I and Fame.”