[Written for the Sentinel]

Duty

Duty, little word thou art with letters four,So grim, forbidding, yet full of life's best lore.I clasp thee to my breast so tenderly,Because in tears and pain and prayerfully,I long and earnestly for thee have sought,With love, at last, I clothe thee in my thought.

Though stern and cold and joyless thou dost seemAt first demand, yet comes one gentle beamOf truth, to break long night of deep despair,Make plain the way which is beyond compare.Each one must find at last what is the right,Learn to love it, find it clothed with light.

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