English poem
THE ETERNAL EVERYDAY.
by Edmund Vance Cooke (1866–1932)
O, one might be like Socrates And lift the hemlock up, Pledge death with philosophic ease, And drain the untrembling cup;— But to be barefoot and be great, Most in desert and least in state, Servant of truth and lord of fate! I own I falter at the peak Trod daily by the steadfast Greek.
O, one might nerve himself to climb His cross and cruelly die, Forgiving his betrayer's crime, With pity in his eye;— But day by day and week by week To feel his power and yet be meek, Endure the curse and turn the cheek, I scarce dare trust even you to be As was the Jew of Galilee.
O, one might reach heroic heights By one strong burst of power. He might endure the whitest lights Of heaven for an hour;— But harder is the daily drag, To smile at trials which fret and fag, And not to murmur—nor to lag. The test of greatness is the way One meets the eternal Everyday.