Classic Poem

‘W E hope to win?’ By God's help—‘Yes’:
Though of the ‘when,’ no man can guess,
Since there may yet be long-drawn strain,
Alternate change of pride and pain,
Till Victory come—at last—to bless.

But there are other wars that press—
Wars bred of surfeit and success—
Which, if we would our place maintain,
We hope to win.

There is the war with Selfishness—
The purblind fiend that ‘doubts’ distress;
With hearts that fail and lips that feign;
With Drink, with Lust, with Greed of Gain…
These are the wars in which, not less,
We hope to win.