They have dreamed as young men dream Of glory, love and power; They have hoped as youth will hope Of life’s sun-minted hour. They have seen as other saw Their bubbles burst in air, And they have learned to live it down As though they did not care.
Come, brothers all!
Shall we not wend
The blind-way of our prison-world
By sympathy entwined?
Shall we not make
The bleak way for each other’s sake
Less rugged and unkind?
O let each throbbing heart repeat
The faint note of another’s beat
To lift a chanson for the feet
That stumble down life’s checkered street.