DUTY
By Alfred B. Street

In changeless green, and grasping close the rock,
    Up towers the mountain pine. The Winter blast
    May like an ocean surge be on it cast;
Proud doth it stand, and stern defy the shock,
    Unchanged in verdure and unbroke in crest,
    Although wild throes may agitate its breast,
And clinging closer when the storm is gone,
Tired, but unbent upon its granite throne,
Not always doth it wrestle with the storm!
    Skies smile; spring flowers make soft its iron roots;
Its sturdy boughs are kissed by breezes warm;
    And birds gleam in and out with joyous flutes.
Duty proves not its strength unless defied,
But pleasure has it, too, bright as have hearts untried.

My comments:  I love the last two lines of this poem