To the Bitter End

He shed no tears, he made no moan;
He bore his burden; mute, endured the years,
Eating his bread as it were not a stone:
He murmured not nor faltered, shed no tears.

He toiled with neither hope nor plan;
Ambition masked in tame humility
That yokes for equal draught the ox with man,
None heard him speak again of what might be.

Not once from him a craven cry;
Patient as are the cattle of the stall,
Dumb as the tumbled clods that on him lie,
So patient, dumb, he toiled, so did he fall.
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