A Hero
He was so foolish, the poor lad, He made superior people smile Who knew not of the wings he had Budding and growing all the while;
Nor that the laurel wreath was made Already for his curly head.
Silly and childish in his ways; They said: "His future comes to naught." His future!
In the dreadful days When in a toil his feet were
He hacked his way to glory bright Before his day went down in night.
He fretted wiser folk--small blame! Such futile, feeble brains were his.
Now we doff hats to hear his name, Ask pardon where his spirit is,
Because we never guessed him for A hero in the disguise he wore.
It matters little how we live So long as we may greatly die.
Fashioned for great things,
O forgive Our dullness in the days gone by!
Now glory wraps you like a cloak From us, and all such common folk.(September 1914)
Katharine Tynan
Other author posts
Unhouseld Unanointed Unaneld
When these men must go Sans an absolution, When their sins are heavy as lead, Thou Thyself will lift the head ;
The Doves
The house where I was born, Where I was young and gay, Grows old amid its corn, Amid its scented hay
Mediation
If Thou, Lord God, willest to judge This, Thy very piteous Which to save Christ did not grudge His last dying,
To The Others
This was the gleam then that lured from Your son and my son to the Holy War: Your son and my son for the With the banner of Christ over them, in steel arrayed
