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WHENE’ER a noble deed is wrought, Whene'er is spoken a noble thought, Our hearts, in glad surprise,
To higher levels rise.
The tidal wave of deeper souls
Out of all meaner cares.
Honor to those whose words or deeds
Raise us from what is low!
Thus thought I, as by night I read
The cold and stony floors.
Lo! in that house of misery
And flit from room to room.
And slow, as in a dream of bliss,
Upon the darkening walls.
As if a door in heaven should be
The light shone and was spent.
On England's annals, through the long
Hereafter of her speech and song,
A Lady with a Lamp shall stand
Nor even shall be wanting here The palm, the lily, and the spear, The symbols that of yore
Saint Filomena bore.