by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
If all the end of this continuous striving
Were simply _to attain_,
How poor would seem the planning and contriving,
The endless urging and the hurried driving,
Of body, heart, and brain!
But ever in the wake of true achieving
There shines this glowing trail—
Some other soul will be spurred on, conceiving
New strength and hope, in its own power believing,
Because _thou_ didst not fail.
Not thine alone the glory, nor the sorrow,
If thou dost miss the goal;
Undreamed of lives in many a far to-morrow
From thee their weakness or their force shall borrow—
On, on, ambitious soul.
- by Ella Wheeler Wilcox