  Who knows his opportunities? They come Not trumpet-tongued from Heaven, but small and dumb, Not beckoning from the future’s promised land, But in the narrow present close at hand. They walk beside us with unsounding feet, And like those two that trode the Eastern street And with their Saviour bartered thought for thought, Our eyes are holden and we know them not. 1878. [Decorative image unavailable.] |
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