O! Let all ye with hearts that listen hear:
I love you. Your will propels me upward
And I am but the finger of your arm.
Together we will swing wide heaven’s gate,
Two thousand miles above the earth, her dream
Of life awake now, marching, hand-in-hand.
Endeavor! O, make ashes of my bones–
May cosmic winds reduce my life to dust–
This ratt’ling bark may shake me all to bits–
But Humans must never endeavoring cease!
By all the names of God I take this step–
This one small step– and lay my vulgar corse
Upon the altar, “hope,” which we all share.
Perhaps you’ll say my name when you get there.