I KNOW not how I know And yet I know. I do not plan to go, And yet I go. There is some dim force propelling, Gently guiding and compelling, And a faint voice ever telling "This is so." The path is rough and black— Dark as night— And there lies a fairer track In the light. Yet I may not shirk or shrink, For I feel the hands that link As they guide me on the brink Of the Height. Bigots blame me in their wrath. Let them blame! Praise or blame, the fated path Is the same. If I droop upon my mission, There is still that saving vision, Iridescent and Elysian, Tipped in flame. It was granted me to stand By my dead. I have felt the vanished hand On my head On my brow the vanished lips, And I know that Death's eclipse Is a floating veil that slips, Or is shed. When I heard thy well-known voice, Son of mine, Should I silently rejoice, Or incline To strike harder as a fighter, That the heavy might be lighter, And the gloomy might be brighter At the sign? Great Guide, I ask you still, "Wherefore I?" But if it be thy will That I try, Trace my pathway among men, Show me how to strike, and when, Take me to the fight—and then, Oh, be nigh! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN ODE ON THE UNVEILING OF THE SHAW MEMORIA BOSTON COMMON, MAY 31, 1897 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH WINTER NIGHT by CH'IEN WEN OF LIANG PUTTING IN THE SEED by ROBERT FROST A FIT OF RHYME AGAINST RHYME [OR, RIME] by BEN JONSON THE JESTER'S SERMON by GEORGE WALTER THORNBURY THE PLEASED CAPTIVE; A SONG by PHILIP AYRES THE PROEM. TO LOVE by PHILIP AYRES ADDRESS TO SUBSCRIBERS .. FUND FOR CLOTHING CHILDREN CHARITY SCHOOL by BERNARD BARTON |