| Jessie B. Rittenhouse, ed. (1869–1948). The Little Book of Modern Verse. 1917. |
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| 119. The Poet |
| | | By Mildred McNeal Sweeney |
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| HIMSELF is least afraid | |
| When the singing lips in the dust | |
| With all mute lips are laid. | |
| For thither all men must. | |
| Nor is the end long stayed. | 5 |
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| But he, having cast his song | |
| Upon the faithful air | |
| And given it speed—is strong | |
| That last strange hour to dare, | |
| Nor wills to tarry long. | 10 |
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| Adown immortal time | |
| That greater self shall pass, | |
| And wear its eager prime | |
| And lend the youth it has | |
| Like one far blowing chime. | 15 |
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| He has made sure the quest | |
| And now—his word gone forth— | |
| May have his perfect rest | |
| Low in the tender earth, | |
| The wind across his breast. | 20 |
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