Эдвард Роулэнд Силл (Edward Rowland Sill)

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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