Classic Poem

There be who are afraid to fear,
The myrmidons of Hope!
Their watchword cannot lend me cheer
'Gainst that with which I cope!

There is a courage of the lost,
Who sail uncharted seas,
Past many a firm or flying coast,
And I must sail with these.

There is a valor of the slain,
Who strive past mortal sight
While their spent corses strew the plain,
And I must fight their fight.

Hast thou that courage of the lost,
Past theirs, that reach their goal?
Whoe'er thou art, I thee accost—
Thou Comrade of my Soul!

Thou dost not fear to fear—ah, no!
The depths wilt thou descend;
And when thy planet sinketh low
Wilt make of Night a friend!

Then come! We two are proof, at last,
We dare our fears to own—
But had our lot with Hope been cast
What heart-break had we known!