A SONNET OF HOPE.

A SONNET OF HOPE.

I said unto my heart: take courage, friend!No hurt can hurt thee save thyself alone:Thy only brother’s breast may change to stone,Thy soul’s companion turn, thy core to rend;Earth’s utmost space no cheering word may send,But only Darkness make a bitter moanTill naught, save Death, may seem to be thine own,Naught left for thee to love—naught to defend.Yet, O my heart! fear not thy challengerNor quail to meet the blackest packs of Night,Whether on flowery mead or rocky hill:Rouse thou my blood and bid my pulses stirTo match the Lilliputians’ sapless mightWith the steel armor of the unconquered Will!John Jerome Rooney.

I said unto my heart: take courage, friend!No hurt can hurt thee save thyself alone:Thy only brother’s breast may change to stone,Thy soul’s companion turn, thy core to rend;Earth’s utmost space no cheering word may send,But only Darkness make a bitter moanTill naught, save Death, may seem to be thine own,Naught left for thee to love—naught to defend.Yet, O my heart! fear not thy challengerNor quail to meet the blackest packs of Night,Whether on flowery mead or rocky hill:Rouse thou my blood and bid my pulses stirTo match the Lilliputians’ sapless mightWith the steel armor of the unconquered Will!John Jerome Rooney.

I said unto my heart: take courage, friend!No hurt can hurt thee save thyself alone:Thy only brother’s breast may change to stone,Thy soul’s companion turn, thy core to rend;Earth’s utmost space no cheering word may send,But only Darkness make a bitter moanTill naught, save Death, may seem to be thine own,Naught left for thee to love—naught to defend.Yet, O my heart! fear not thy challengerNor quail to meet the blackest packs of Night,Whether on flowery mead or rocky hill:Rouse thou my blood and bid my pulses stirTo match the Lilliputians’ sapless mightWith the steel armor of the unconquered Will!

I said unto my heart: take courage, friend!

No hurt can hurt thee save thyself alone:

Thy only brother’s breast may change to stone,

Thy soul’s companion turn, thy core to rend;

Earth’s utmost space no cheering word may send,

But only Darkness make a bitter moan

Till naught, save Death, may seem to be thine own,

Naught left for thee to love—naught to defend.

Yet, O my heart! fear not thy challenger

Nor quail to meet the blackest packs of Night,

Whether on flowery mead or rocky hill:

Rouse thou my blood and bid my pulses stir

To match the Lilliputians’ sapless might

With the steel armor of the unconquered Will!

John Jerome Rooney.

John Jerome Rooney.


Back to IndexNext