THE DISAPPOINTED.

There are songs enough for the hero

Who dwells on the heights of fame;

I sing for the disappointed —

For those who missed their aim.

I sing with a tearful cadence

For one who stands in the dark,

And knows that his last, best arrow

Has bounded back from the mark.

I sing for the breathless runner,

The eager, anxious soul,

Who falls with his strength exhausted,

Almost in sight of the goal;

For the hearts that break in silence,

With a sorrow all unknown,

For those who need companions,

Yet walk their ways alone.

There are songs enough for the lovers

Who share love’ s tender pain,

I sing for the one whose passion

Is given all in vain.

For those whose spirit comrades

Have missed them on the way,

I sing, with a heart o’ erflowing,

This minor strain to-day.

And I know the Solar system

Must somewhere keep in space

A prize for that spent runner

Who barely lost the race.

For the plan would be imperfect

Unless it held some sphere

That paid for the toil and talent

And love that are wasted here.