The yellow book: an illustrated quarterly (9.1896)

A Ballad of Victory

“ And down the stony slopes they lead,
Through many a deep and dark ravine,

Where long ago it was decreed

Nor sun nor moonlight should be seen.

“ Across the waste where no help is,

And through the winds and blinding showers,
Among the mist-bound silences,

And through the cold despairing hours.

“ Among the lonely, lonely hills,

Ah me, I do not know her name,

Nor whose the bidding she fulfils,

But well the roads by which she came.”

Then spoke a youth, who long, apart,

Had watched the people come and go,

With clearer eyes and wiser heart,

And cried, w Her face and name I know.

“ And well the passage of her flight,

The starless plains she must ascend,

And well the darkness of the night,

In which her pilgrimage shall end.

“ But stronger than the years that roll,

Than travail past, or yet to be,

She presses to her hidden goal,

A crownless, unknown Victory.”