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TO THE VICTOR
You have outstripped me in the race,
Your brow shall wear the laurel's grace;
But though on-speeding in your might
You pass beyond my straining sight,
My spirit shall with yours keep pace!
For I have dreamed your dream divine,
For I have worshiped at the shrine
Whose oracles your faith have moved,
For I have loved what you have loved—
Your victory is also mine!
Shall the grave gods pronounce their choice
And I not lift in praise my voice?
Or shall another win the goal
Whose vision hath illumed my soul,
And I, though distant, not rejoice?
Ah, no! Your greater gifts prevail;
But though to reach your side I fail,
Through you triumphant in defeat,
Even in death I will repeat,—
Hail to the victor! Hail! . . .
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