The hurry of the times affects us so
In this swift rushing hour, we crowd, and press,
And thrust each other backward, as we go,
And do not pause to lay sufficient stress
Upon that good, strong, true word, Earnestness.
In our impetuous haste, could we but know
Its full, deep meaning, its vast import, oh,
Then might we grasp the secret of success!
In that receding age when men were great,
The bone, and sinew, of their purpose lay
In this one word. God likes an earnest soul--
Too earnest to be eager. Soon or late
It leaves the spent horde breathless by the way,
And stands serene, triumphant, at the goal.
Poems of Passion by Ella Wheeler
Chicago : Belford, Clarke & Co, 1883.
|Back to Poem Index|