Classic Poem

Our course is onward, onward into light:
What though the darkness gathereth amain,
Yet to return or tarry both are vain
How many, when around us is thick night?
Waither return? what flower yet ever might,
In days of gloom, and cold, and stormy rain,
Eaclose itself in its green bud again,
Hiding from wrath of tempest out of sight?
Courage! — we travel through a darksome cave;
But still, as nearer to the light we draw,
Fresh gales will reach us from the upper air,
And wholesome dews of heaven our foreheads lave,
The darkness lighten more, till full of awe
We stand in the open sunshine — unaware.