Genius

A hundred generations have gone into its making,

 With all their love and tenderness, with all their dreams and tears;

Their vanished joy and pleasure, their pain and their heart-breaking,

 Have colored this rare blossom of the long-unfruitful years.

Their victory and their laughter for this have strong men given,

 For this have sweet, dead women paid in patience which survives­

That a great soul might bring the world, as from the gate of heaven,

 All that was rich and beautiful in those forgotten lives.