Courage
I’d like to think that I can look at death and smile and say,
All I have left now is my final breath; take that away,
And you must either leave me dust, or dreams, or in far flight,
The soul that wanders where the stardust streams through endless night.
But I’d rather think that I can look at life with this to say:
Send what you will of struggle or strife, blue skies or gray,
I’ll stand against the final charge of hate by peak and pit,
And nothing in the steel-clad fist of fate can make me quit.