Classic Poem

Dim questionings of Fate and Time
Beset our souls on every side;
Clouds thicken round the path we climb,
Yet strive we to the height sublime,
Or perish if the worst betide.

What worse could happen than to lie
Here in the valley leisurely,
To watch the clouds go drifting by,
And feel our powers grow faint and die
To one tame, weak monotony?

To see our mountain's shining gold
Gleam far above us height on height,
And know the comrades loved of old
Yearn from it vainly to behold
Our upward strife, our deeds of might?

Nay, — face the terrors of the way,
The rock-pierced torrent's angry roar,
Grim walls that blind the eyes of day,
Sharp, swift descents for feet that stray,
And awesome birds that swoop and soar.

Ah, better steadfast-eyed to scale
The awful hillside hand in hand,
For never yet without avail
Did one true striving soul assail
The barriers of the Mountain-land.

Rouse we our spirits to the race.
Friends! Brothers! From the walls above
Leans many an unforgotten face
Still wearing through its new-born grace
The old sweet look of human love.

On! On! A hand for those who fall,
For those who droop a song of cheer,
Ears quick to catch the Leader's call,
Stout hearts the gloom shall not appal,
For lo! the towers of Home are near!

There watching by the open door
Shine Cuthbert's heavenly eyes of blue,
There Muriel waits to meet once more
The earth-born loves she hungered for,
To clasp our hands and lead us through.

There shall our lost ones wait, and there
The height, the dream of our desire,
Supreme fulfilment, answered prayer
From lip to lip the watchword bear,
The cry of Home! Through flood and fire!