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Paul Laurence Dunbar - Slow Through The Dark
Work rating: Low

Slow moves the pageant of a climbing race;
    Their footsteps drag far, far below the height,
    And, unprevailing by their utmost might,
  Seem faltering downward from each hard won place.
  No strange, swift-sprung exception we; we trace
    A devious way thro` dim, uncertain light,--
    Our hope, through the long vistaed years, a sight
  Of that our Captain`s soul sees face to face.
    Who, faithless, faltering that the road is steep,
  Now raiseth up his drear insistent cry?
    Who stoppeth here to spend a while in sleep
  Or curseth that the storm obscures the sky?
    Heed not the darkness round you, dull and deep;
  The clouds grow thickest when the summit`s nigh.
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