THE JOY OF VICTORY.

New Zealand Illustrated Sporting & Dramatic Review, Issue 1441, 6 December 1917, Page 11 (Supplement)

THE JOY OF VICTORY.

What made his victory sweet to him? His neighbours’ praises and their cheers? Not so. The struggle black and grim, The failures of his empty years, The old hopes that had come and gone, The oft-remembered bump and fall That stopped him as he journeyed on, And he had won in spite of all. What was it made his victory sweet, The gold and glamour of success? Not so. ’Twas yesterday’s defeat, It was a bygone year’s distress. That he had stood on failure’s coast With joy, at last he could recall, This was the thought that cheered him most, That he had won in spite of all. When the very youthful Tennyson attempted an elegy upon his grandmother, said to be his first verse attempt, his grandfather, who guessed wrongly, pressed 10 shillings into the boy’s hand, remarking: “This is the first money you have earned by your poetry, my boy, and believe me it will be the last.”