To All Sad of Heart

I heard one cry, " The day is well nigh done;
The sun is setting, and the night is near, —
The night wherein no moon or stars appear,
And to whose gloom succeeds no joyful sun;
The race is ended, and the prize is won, —
What prize hast thou? " I rose with heavy cheer,
Stretched empty hands, and said, " No prize is here;
My feet were bruised, so-that I might not run."

Of victors wreathed I saw a goodly throng;
But turned mine eyes from these to where, apart,
Sad men moved wearily, with heads down-hung.
I cried, " O ye who know Griefs poisonous smart,
Brothers! accept me, now; for from my heart
To yours I send the passion of my song!"