Because I failed, shall I asperse the End
With scorn or doubt, my failure to excuse;
‘Gainst arduous Truth my feeble falseness use,
Like that worst foe, a vain splenetic friend?
Deem’st thou, self-amorous fool, the High will bend
If that thy utmost stature prove too small?
Though thou be dwarf, some other is more tall.
The End is fixed; have faith; the means will mend.
Failures but carve a pathway to success;
Our force is many, so our aim be one:
The foremost drop; on, those behind must press.
What boots my doing, so the deed be done?
Let my poor body lie beneath the breach:
I clomb and fell; who stand on me will reach.
Alfred Austin (1835 –1913) was an English journalist and apoet who was appointed Poet Laureate in 1896, after an interval following the death of Tennyson, when the other candidates had either caused controversy or simply refused the honor. It was claimed that he was being rewarded for his support for the Conservative leader Lord Salisbury in the General Election of 1895.
Latest posts by Alfred Austin (see all)
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