Edward Rowland Sill (Эдвард Роулэнд Силл)
Force
THE stars know a secret They do not tell; And morn brings a message Hidden well. There's a blush on the apple, A tint on the wing, And the bright wind whistles, And the pulses sting. Perish dark memories! There's light ahead; This world's for the living; Not for the dead. In the shining city, On the loud pave, The life-tide is running Like a leaping wave. How the stream quickens, As noon draws near, No room for loiterers, No time for fear. Out on the farm lands Earth smiles as well; Gold-crusted grain-fields, With sweet, warm smell; Whir of the reaper, Like a giant bee; Like a Titan cricket, Thrilling with glee. On mart and meadow, Pavement or plain; On azure mountain, Or azure main— Heaven bends in blessing; Lost is but won; Goes the good rain-cloud, Comes the good sun! Only babes whimper, And sick men wail, And faint hearts and feeble hearts, And weaklings fail. Down the great currents Let the boat swing; There was never winter But brought the spring.
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