The heralds called, and men from far and near
Came surging in to see their hero's face.
Fame had he won; his name was blazoned forth.
And this fair day. a nation's tribute his,
He stood before the world, with honor crowned.
And One a stranger to the throng was there.
Unheeding all, he went his quiet way
Until he came to where the hero stood
In stately hall. Here pressed the men who sought
To have at least fame's shadow on them rest.
The Stranger paused; and then, with searching eyes,
Looked earnestly into the hero's face
Until he saw that face grow pale and drawn,
Saw every line of haughty poise lose strength.
The power of simple truth had turned his thought
Back, inward, where at last he saw revealed—
Himself—apart from mortal sense of fame:
Saw that this fame had come at others' cost;
That his renown was but a breath, a dream:
That all earth's praise, its honors, and its gold,
If won through others' toil is loss—not gain.
The Stranger passed, and those who saw his face
Were turned from him whose name they'd blazoned
forth:
His fame had lost its glamour, and they saw
Their hero in the light of stainless Truth.
