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.