O Pusillanimous Heart, Be Comforted And, Like

Deep Violets, You Liken To The Kindest Eyes That Look On You, Without A Thought Disloyal.

When The Dust Of Death Has Choked A Great Man's Voice, The Common Words He Said Turn Oracles, The Common Thoughts He Yoked Like Horses Draw Like Griffins.

God Answers Sharp And Sudden On Some Prayers, And Thrusts The Thing We Have Prayed For In Our Face, A Gauntlet With A Gift In It.

Gaze Up At The Stars Knowing That I See The Same Sky And Wish The Same Sweet Dreams.

Many A Crown Covers Bald Foreheads.