Say not the struggle naught availeth
The labour and the wounds are vain
The enemy faints not, nor faileth
And as things have been, things remain

For while the tired waves, vainly breaking
Seem here no painful inch to gain
Far back through creeks and inlets making
Comes silent., flooding in, the main

And not by eastern windows only
When daylight comes, comes in the light,
In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly,
But westward, look,the land is bright.