<h2><SPAN name="page57"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>DUTY’S PATH</h2>
<p class="poetry">Out from the harbour of youth’s bay<br/>
There leads the path of pleasure;<br/>
With eager steps we walk that way<br/>
To brim joy’s largest measure.<br/>
But when with morn’s departing beam<br/>
Goes youth’s last precious minute,<br/>
We sigh “’Twas but a fevered dream—<br/>
There’s nothing in it.”</p>
<p class="poetry">Then on our vision dawns afar<br/>
The goal of glory, gleaming<br/>
Like some great radiant solar star,<br/>
And sets us longing, dreaming.<br/>
Forgetting all things left behind,<br/>
We strain each nerve to win it,<br/>
But when ’tis ours—alas! we find<br/>
There’s nothing in it.</p>
<p class="poetry"><SPAN name="page58"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">p.
58</span>We turn our sad, reluctant gaze<br/>
Upon the path of duty;<br/>
Its barren, uninviting ways<br/>
Are void of bloom and beauty.<br/>
Yet in that road, though dark and cold,<br/>
It seems as we begin it,<br/>
As we press on—lo! we behold<br/>
There’s Heaven in it.</p>
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