Courage

Bridle every vain excuse,
Plead not age nor youth;
Use what lies within your hand,
Grasp the sword of Truth!

Fear shall crumble at your feet
Like a brittle mirror,
Broken into fragments lies
Every dream of terror.

Pride and jealousy shall flee
Riddled by your laughter;
You shall watch greed crouching go—
Never looking after.

Self shall turn and slink away—
Little you'll be grieving—
Who would fill their arms in spring
With the autumn's leaving!

Joy that trembled like a flame
Richly will be burning;
Never shall it dim again
Noon, nor night, nor morning.

Thrust and parry, strike and guard,
Dip no flag to sorrow;
Many thought today was lost
While they won tomorrow!

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Article
The Annunciation
December 9, 1933
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