WHO bides his time, and day by day Faces defeat full patiently, And lifts a mirthful roundelay, However poor his fortunes be, -- He will not fail in any qualm Of poverty -- the paltry dime It will grow golden in his palm, Who bides his time. Who bides his time -- he tastes the sweet Of honey in the saltest tear; And though he fares with slowest feet, Joy runs to meet him, drawing near: The birds are heralds of his cause; And, like a never-ending rhyme, The roadsides bloom in his applause, Who bides his time. Who bides his time, and fevers not In the hot race that none achieves, Shall wear cool-wreathen laurel, wrought With crimson berries in the leaves; And he shall reign a goodly king, And sway his hand o'er every clime, With peace writ on his signet-ring, Who bides his time. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LEAVES FIRST by CARL PHILLIPS ART ABOVE NATURE: TO JULIA by ROBERT HERRICK RECUERDO by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY HER FIRST-BORN by CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER TENNYSON by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE VOLCANIC ISLAND by CLIFFORD BAX FORMALITY AND THE SOUL: 2. JAMES MACNEIL WHISTLER by KARL W. BIGELOW |