From the Omaha Daily Bee, November 18, 1913. By William F. Kirk.
There is no rest save sleep and death
For us whom Destiny is driving;
Until the last and feeblest breath
Some part of every man is striving.
The tireless muscles of the strong,
The mental workings of the clever,
Unite, as we are swept along,
In one grand purpose of endeavor.
The idle day and idle dream
Are for the dotard and the fool;
The salmon flashes up the stream;
The coarse carp fattens in the pool.
Striving we live, and striving, shun
The dull content that would enslave us;
And glory, ere the day is done,
Is that unrest the Master gave us.
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