Classic Poem

Prate not to me of weaklings, who
Lament this life and naught achieve.
I hymn the vast and valiant crew
Of those who have scant time to grieve;
Firm-set their fortunes to retrieve,
They sing for luck a lusty stave,
The world's staunch workers, by your leave,—
This is the ballade of the brave.

Wan women, steel to staggering blows;
White souls from many a nether place;
The humble heroes and the foes
Of sham; the hunters of the base.
The men with missions in their face,
The clan who straighten, heal and save;
The young who think each card an ace,—
This is the ballade of the brave.

Those who with stingless laugh and jest
Sweeten the labor; those who stake
Their all on some sky-reaching quest,
Unconquerable for conscience' sake;
The warriors who a last stand make,
Though loss o'erwhelm them, wave on wave;
Smiling, the while their hearts do break,—
This is the ballade of the brave.
Brothers, it is a heavenly stake
Ye play for, goodlier than the grave;
Then play it well, for God's sweet sake,—
This is the ballade of the brave!