Epilogue

Than farthest stars more distant, A mile more, A mile more, A voice cries on insistent: "You may smile more if you will;

"You may sing too and spring too; But numb at last And dumb at last, Whatever port you cling to, You must come at last to a hill.

"And never a man you'll find there To take your hand And shake your hand; But when you go behind there You must make your hand a sword

"To fence with a foeman swarthy, And swink there Nor shrink there, Though cowardly and worthy Must drink there one reward."