LXXXIII. SONNET.
Reading edition
LXXXIII. SONNET.
President Wilson.—1816-
Great things were ne'er begotten in an hour; Ephemerons in birth, are such in life; And he who dareth, in the noble strife Of intellects, to cope for real power,— Such as God giveth as His rarest dower Of mastery, to the few with greatness rife,— Must, ere the morning mists have ceased to lower Till the long shadows of the night arrive, Stand in the arena. Laurels that are won, Pluck'd from green boughs, soon wither; those that last Are gather'd patiently, when sultry noon And summer's fiery glare in vain are past. Life is the hour of labor; on Earth's breast Serene and undisturb'd shall be thy rest.