Xvii

Across the plain of Time I saw them marching all night long,-- The endless throng Of all who ever dared to fight with wrong. All the blood of their hearts, the prime And crown of their fleeting years, All the toil of their hands, the tears Of their eyes, the thought of their brain, For a word from the lips of Truth, For a glimpse of the scroll of Fate, Ere love and youth Were spent in vain, And even truth too late! Oh, when the Silence speaks, and the scroll Unrolls to the eye of the soul, What will it be that shall pay the cost Of the pain gone waste and the labor lost! And then, Dear, waking, I saw you--- And knew.