A man said unto his Angel: <br />"My spirits are fallen low, <br />And I cannot carry this battle: <br />O brother! where might I go? <br /> <br />"The terrible Kings are on me <br />With spears that are deadly bright; <br />Against me so from the cradle <br />Do fate and my fathers fight." <br /> <br />Then said to the man his Angel: <br />"Thou wavering, witless soul, <br />Back to the ranks! What matter <br />To win or to lose the whole, <br /> <br />"As judged by the little judges <br />Who hearken not well, nor see? <br />Not thus, by the outer issue, <br />The Wise shall interpret thee. <br /> <br />"Thy will is the sovereign measure <br />And only events of things: <br />The puniest heart, defying, <br />Were stronger than all these Kings. <br /> <br />"Though out of the past they gather, <br />Mind's Doubt, and Bodily Pain, <br />And pallid Thirst of the Spirit <br />That is kin to the other twain, <br /> <br />"And Grief, in a cloud of banners, <br />And ringletted Vain Desires, <br />And Vice, with the spoils upon him <br />Of thee and thy beaten sires, -- <br /> <br />"While Kings of eternal evil <br />Yet darken the hills about, <br />Thy part is with broken sabre <br />To rise on the last redoubt; <br /> <br />"To fear not sensible failure, <br />Nor covet the game at all, <br />But fighting, fighting, fighting, <br />Die, driven against the wall."<br /><br />Louise Imogen Guiney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-kings/
