Classic Poem

O splendid soul! Into the battlefield
You leap: upon your lips the songs of joy,
Welcoming fearful conflict as a boy
The pleasure any sportive hour may yield.
Great heart, what mighty weapon do you wield
That victory follows always its employ?
Had you no self-reared dragons to destroy?
Always was glorious certainty your shield?

I too would follow where your steps lead on,
I too would sing your praise by the camp fire,
Defend the name envy would spit upon,
Would hearten you to climb from high to higher,
Be as the moon to sun when you are gone,
Or as the wind to your aeolian lyre.