The poem
THE HERO first thought it To him ’twas a deed: To those who retaught it, A chain on their speed.
The fire that we kindled, A beacon by night, When darkness has dwindled Grows pale in the light.
For life has no glory Stays long in one dwelling, And time has no story That’s true twice in telling.
And only the teaching That never was spoken Is worthy thy reaching, The fountain unbroken.