C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
Say Not, the Struggle Naught Availeth
By Arthur Hugh Clough (18191861)
S
The labor and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,
And as things have been, they remain.
It may be, in yon smoke concealed,
Your comrades chase e’en now the fliers,
And but for you, possess the field.
Seem here no painful inch to gain,
Far back, through creeks and inlets making,
Comes silent, flooding in, the main.
When daylight comes, comes in the light;
In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly!
But westward, look, the land is bright.