I SAID unto myself, if I were dead,
What would befall these children?
What would be

Their fate, who now are looking up to me
For help and furtherance? Their lives,

I said, Would be a volume wherein I have read But the first chapters, and no longe. see To read the rest of their dear history, So full of beauty and so full of dread. Be comforted; the world is very old, And generations pass, as they have passed,

A troop of shadows moving with the sun; Thousands of times has the old tale been

told;

The world belongs to those who come the last,

They will find hope and strength as we have done.