Courage does not always march to airs blown by a bugle it is not always wrought out of the fabric ostentation wears.
Courage is sometimes frail as hope is frail: a fragile shoot between two stones that grows brave toward the sun though warmth and brightness fail, striving and faith the only strength it knows.
How shall I tell you of the world you faceStrident with sound of weapons and of hate,Make you aware now of the narrowing spaceBetween the hope of mortal and his fate?