Useless Fear
109.—Useless Fear.
O. There is a gloomy prophet at my ear:
He whispers,—sad and low.
F. Tush! Shake him off.
The shadow that each ill sends forward, ever
Is larger than the ill. When that the thing
You dread comes near, and you can measure it,
Then ruffle up thy Courage,—till it stands
'Tween thee and danger, like a champion!
Wait, till the peril come; then boldly look at 't.
O. There is a gloomy prophet at my ear:
He whispers,—sad and low.
F. Tush! Shake him off.
The shadow that each ill sends forward, ever
Is larger than the ill. When that the thing
You dread comes near, and you can measure it,
Then ruffle up thy Courage,—till it stands
'Tween thee and danger, like a champion!
Wait, till the peril come; then boldly look at 't.
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