Chapter LXXXIII: Sonnet

PRESIDENT WILSON.--1816-

Great things were ne'er begotten in an hour;
Ephemerons in birth, are such in life;
And he who dareth, in the noble strife
Of intellects, to cope for real power,--
Such as God giveth as His rarest dower
Of mastery, to the few with greatness rife,--
Must, ere the morning mists have ceased to lower
Till the long shadows of the night arrive,
Stand in the arena. Laurels that are won,
Pluck'd from green boughs, soon wither; those that last
Are gather'd patiently, when sultry noon
And summer's fiery glare in vain are past.
Life is the hour of labor; on Earth's breast
Serene and undisturb'd shall be thy rest.