MY BROTHERTHEODORE ROOSEVELT
THE STAREpiphany, 1919Great soul, to all brave souls akin,High bearer of the torch of truth,Have you not gone to marshal inThose eager hosts of youth?Flung outward on the battle’s tide,They met in regions dim and far;And you, in whom youth never died,Shall lead them, as a star.—MARION COUTHOUY SMITH.
Great soul, to all brave souls akin,High bearer of the torch of truth,Have you not gone to marshal inThose eager hosts of youth?Flung outward on the battle’s tide,They met in regions dim and far;And you, in whom youth never died,Shall lead them, as a star.—MARION COUTHOUY SMITH.
Great soul, to all brave souls akin,High bearer of the torch of truth,Have you not gone to marshal inThose eager hosts of youth?Flung outward on the battle’s tide,They met in regions dim and far;And you, in whom youth never died,Shall lead them, as a star.—MARION COUTHOUY SMITH.
Great soul, to all brave souls akin,High bearer of the torch of truth,Have you not gone to marshal inThose eager hosts of youth?
Flung outward on the battle’s tide,They met in regions dim and far;And you, in whom youth never died,Shall lead them, as a star.
—MARION COUTHOUY SMITH.