From the Omaha Daily Bee, June 30, 1913.
 By Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
 

 There are songs enough for the hero
     Who dwells on the heights of fame;
 I sing for the disappointed—
     For those who have 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 their way,
 I sing, with a heart o’erflowing,
     This minor strain today.
 
 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.