Reward
If so be the dawn withhold
Something of its flooding gold,
If so be the noon refuse
Something from its brimming cruse,
If so be the eve repress
Something of its tenderness,
Shall I, clothed in doubt and pride,
Cry my meed has been denied?
Nay, but let me rather rise
Toward that hour of certainties
When my merit cup shall be
Filled with what is due to me!
Something of its flooding gold,
If so be the noon refuse
Something from its brimming cruse,
If so be the eve repress
Something of its tenderness,
Shall I, clothed in doubt and pride,
Cry my meed has been denied?
Nay, but let me rather rise
Toward that hour of certainties
When my merit cup shall be
Filled with what is due to me!
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