An Optimist

"O aged man, pray, if you know,Now answer me the truth!—Which of the gifts that the gods bestowIs the greatest gift of youth?

"O aged man, I have far to fareBy the divers paths of Earth,Which of the gifts that with me I bearIs the gift of the greatest worth?

"Is it the might of the good right arm,Whereby I shall make my wayWhere dangers threaten and evils harm,Holding them still at bay?

"Is it the strength wherewith I shall climbWhere few before have trod—To the mountain-tops, the peaks sublimeThat glow in the smile of the god?

"Is it the never-failing will,Invincible in might,Which armed against oppression stillShall vanquish for the right?

"Or is it the heart, thou aged man!—The heart, impassioned, strong—Which shall be blest, as naught else can,In perfect love ere long?"

The old man smiled: the listening breezeGrew whist on the sun-lit slope;The old man sighed: "Ah, none of these!Youth's greatest gift is its hope."