Page:The princess; a medley (IA princessmedley00tennrich).pdf/67

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A MEDLEY.
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Like field-flowers everywhere! we like them well:But children die; and let me tell you girl Howe'er you babble, great deeds cannot die:They with the sun and moon renew their lightFor over, blessing those that look on them: Children—that men may pluck them from our hearts, Kill us with pity, break us with ourselves— O—children—there is nothing upon earthMore miserable than she that has a sonAnd sees him err: nor would we work for fame; Tho' she perhaps might reap the applause of Great, Who learns the one pou sto whence after-hands May move the world, though she herself effectBut little: wherefore up and act, nor shrinkFor fear our solid aim be dissipatedOf frail successors. Would, indeed, we had been, In lieu of many mortal flies, a raceOf giants living, each, a thousand years,That we might see our own work out, and watch The sandy footprint harden into stone.'
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