If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;
          It may be in yon smoke concealed,
        Your comrades chase e’en now the fliers,
          And, but for you, possess the field.

        For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,
          Seem here no painful inch to gain,
        Far back, through creeks and inlets making,
          Comes silent, flooding in, the main.

        And not by eastern windows only,
          When daylight comes, comes in the light,
        In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly,
          But westward, look, the land is bright.

PATRIOTISM.

BY LORD TENNYSON.

        Love thou thy land, with love far-brought
          From out the storied Past, and used
          Within the Present, but transfused
        Thro’ future time by power of thought.

        True love turned round on fixed poles,
          Love that endures not sordid ends,
          For English natures, freemen, friends,
        Thy brothers, and immortal souls.

        But pamper not a hasty time,
          Nor feed with crude imaginings
          The herd, wild hearts, and feeble wings,
        That every sophister can lime.

        Deliver not the tasks of might
          To weakness, neither hide the ray
          From those, not blind, who wait for day,
        Tho’ sitting girt with doubtful light.

        Make knowledge circle with the winds;
          But let her herald, Reverence, fly
          Before her to whatever sky
        Bear seed of men and growth of minds.

        Watch what main currents draw the years: 
          Cut Prejudice against the grain: 
          But gentle words are always gain: 
        Regard the weakness of thy peers: 

        Nor toil for title, place, or touch
          Of pension, neither count on praise: 
          It grows to guerdon after-days: 
        Nor deal in watch-words overmuch: 

        Not clinging to some ancient saw;
          Not master’d by some modern term;
          Not swift nor slow to change, but firm;
        And in its season bring the law;

        That from Discussion’s lip may fall
          With Life, that, working strongly, binds—­
          Set in all lights by many minds,
        To close the interests of all.

        For Nature also, cold and warm,
          And moist and dry, devising long,
          Thro’ many agents making strong,
        Matures the individual form.

        Meet is it changes should control
          Our being, lest we rust in ease. 
          We all are changed by still degrees,
        All but the basis of the soul.

        So let the change which comes be free
          To ingroove itself with that, which flies,
          And work, a joint of state, that plies
        Its office, moved with sympathy.