Explore "Unquenched" by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I think upon the conquering Greek who ran / (Brave was the racer! ) that brave race of old -- / Swifter than hope his feet that did not tire.
Calmer than love the hand which reached that goal; / A torch it bore, and cherished to the end, / And rescued from the winds the sacred fire.
O life the race! O heart the racer! Hush! / And listen long enough to learn of him / Who sleeps beneath the dust with his desire.
Go! shame thy coward weariness, and wail. / Who doubles contest, doubles victory. / Go! learn to run the race, and carry fire.
O Friend! The lip is brave, the heart is weak. / Stay near. The runner faints -- the torch falls pale. / Save me the flame that mounteth ever higher!
Grows it so dark? I lift mine eyes to _thine_; / Blazing within them, steadfast, pure, and strong, / Against the wind there fights the eternal fire.
[1] At the Promethean and other festivals, young men ran with torches / or lamps lighted from the sacrificial altar. "In this contest, only he / was victorious whose lamp remained unextinguished in the race. "