STOUT marches lead to certain ends, <br />We seek no Holy Grail, my friends - <br />That dawn should find us every day <br />Some fraction farther on our way. <br /> <br />The dumb lands sleep from east to west, <br />They stretch and turn and take their rest. <br />The cock has crown in the steading-yard, <br />But priest and people slumber hard. <br /> <br />We two are early forth, and hear <br />The nations snoring far and near. <br />So peacefully their rest they take, <br />It seems we are the first awake! <br /> <br />- Strong heart! this is no royal way, <br />A thousand cross-roads seek the day; <br />And, hid from us, to left and right, <br />A thousand seekers seek the light.<br /><br />Robert Louis Stevenson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/stout-marches-lead-to-certain-ends/
