The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar · Paul Laurence Dunbar

Slow Through the Dark

298 of 424 · 1 min of reading

Slow moves the pageant of a climbing race;

Their footsteps drag far, far below the height,

And, unprevailing by their utmost might,

Seem faltering downward from each hard won place.

No strange, swift-sprung exception we; we trace

A devious way thro' dim, uncertain light,--

Our hope, through the long vistaed years, a sight

Of that our Captain's soul sees face to face.

Who, faithless, faltering that the road is steep,

Now raiseth up his drear insistent cry?

Who stoppeth here to spend a while in sleep

Or curseth that the storm obscures the sky?

Heed not the darkness round you, dull and deep;

The clouds grow thickest when the summit's nigh.

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End of part 298 of 424