He wears the pride of mighty throngs With humbled lowliness; He knows the strength of giant wrongs, The woes of vast distress. He sees the towering bulk of trade O'ertop the church's spire, And all the passions, unafraid, Feed high their living fire. Beneath the torch of Liberty He sees the millions come, Of all the sad world's misery The dread, pathetic sum. He knows the stupor of the crowd, The myriad-headed thrall, And many a time his soul is bowed With hopelessness of all. Yet there, where centred evils dwell, He holds his faith in man, Defies the leaguered powers of hell, And does the thing he can. A pygmy laden with a world, He staggers on apace, And back the coward jibe is hurled Full in the coward's face. He is but one, but one he is With all a hero's might, And feels a cosmic power is his To fight a cosmic fight. Beset by giants, by the boast Of hell's battalions vast, This pygmy struggling with a host Will crush them all at last. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WRECK OF THE CIRCUS TRAIN by HAYDEN CARRUTH FINALITY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CHAMBER MUSIC: 14 by JAMES JOYCE TWENTY-FOUR HOKKU ON A MODERN THEME by AMY LOWELL SURFACES AND MASKS; 3 by CLARENCE MAJOR |