You’ll never know the victory’s glory,
Nor the triumph of ground won,
Till you’ve know the battle “gory,”
Till you’ve fought your way through one.
You’ll never know true lightness of heart,
Nor the face lit up, serene,
Till you’ve know the aching part,
Till you’ve faced the tremor keen.
You’ll never know the beauty of relieve,
Nor prayer’s answering calm,
Till you’ve born the load of grief,
Till you’ve tarried beyond – tarried long.
– eab, 11/29/78
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