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.