| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 782. Force |
| | | By Edward Rowland Sill |
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| THE STARS know a secret | |
| They do not tell; | |
| And morn brings a message | |
| Hidden well. | |
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| There ’s a blush on the apple, | 5 |
| A tint on the wing, | |
| And the bright wind whistles, | |
| And the pulses sting. | |
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| Perish dark memories! | |
| There ’s light ahead; | 10 |
| This world’s for the living, | |
| Not for the dead. | |
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| In the shining city, | |
| On the loud pave, | |
| The life-tide is running | 15 |
| Like a leaping wave. | |
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| How the stream quickens, | |
| As noon draws near! | |
| No room for loiterers, | |
| No time for fear. | 20 |
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| Out on the farm lands | |
| Earth smiles as well; | |
| Gold-crusted grain-fields, | |
| With sweet, warm smell; | |
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| Whir of the reaper, | 25 |
| Like a giant bee; | |
| Like a Titan cricket, | |
| Thrilling with glee. | |
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| On mart and meadow, | |
| Pavement or plain; | 30 |
| On azure mountain, | |
| Or azure main,— | |
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| Heaven bends in blessing; | |
| Lost is but won; | |
| Goes the good rain-cloud, | 35 |
| Comes the good sun: | |
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| Only babes whimper, | |
| And sick men wail, | |
| And faint hearts and feeble hearts, | |
| And weaklings fail. | 40 |
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| Down the great currents | |
| Let the boat swing; | |
| There was never winter | |
| But brought the spring. | |
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