Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1911-06-27
1.-THE DREAM ERS."
One Of the Mos. Widely Copied Pieces
of literature

OF Literature.
THE DreamerS." written by Herbert
kaufmHn, and first printed I'm Every
, bOdy's Magazine, has been copied and
clipped and quoted to an unbelievable
extent. 1t has been published i'm de
luxe volumes and scattered broadcast
through the earth in leaflet and circu-
lar form.
Yet this extraordinary little piece of
literature is only a matter of a few
hundred words. Every one who has
ever read 1t will enjoy the second pc
rusal, and it is reprinted here:
THE DREAMERS.
They are the architects of greatness.
Their vision lies within their souls
They never see the mirages of Fact
but peer beyond the wells and mists of
doubt and pierce the walls Of unborn
Time.
The world has acculaded them with
jeer and Sneer and gibe. for worlds
are made of little men who take but
never give-who share but never
spare-who cheer a grudge and grudge
a cheer.
Wherefore, the paths Of progress
have been sobs of blood dropped from
their broken hearts.
Makers of empire. they have fought
for bigger things than crowns and
higher seats than thrones. Fanfare
and pageant and the right to rule OF
will to love are not the fires which
wrought their resolution into steel.
Grief only streaks their hairs with sill
yer. but has never grayed their hopes.
They are the Argonauts. the seekers
of the priceless feece-The Truth.
Through all the ages they have
heard the voice Of Destiny call to them
from the unknown vasts. They dare
uncharted seas, for they are makers
of the charts. With only cloth OF
courage at their masts and with no
compass save their dreams, they sail
away undaunted for the far, blind
shores.
Their brains have wrought all hu-
man miracles. In lace Of stone their
spires stab the Old Worlds skies and
with their golden crosses kiss the sun.
The belted wheel, the trail of steel,
the churning screw, are shuttles in
the loom on which they weave their
magic tapestries.
A flash out in the night leaps leagues
of snarling seas and cries to shore for
help, which, but for one mans dream,
would never come.
Their tunnels plOW the river bed and
chain the islands to the Motherland.
Their wings Of canvas beat the air
and add the highways of the eagle to
the human paths.
A God hewn voice Swells from a
disk of glue and wells out through a
throat of brass, caught sweet and
whole, to last beyond the maker of the
song, because a dreamer dreamt.
What would you have of fancy or OF
fact If hands were all with which men
had to build?
Your homes are set upon the land a
dreamer found. The pictures on its
walls are visions from a dreamer's
soul. a dreamer'S pain walls from
your violin.
They are the chosen few-the Bla-
zers Of the Way-who never wear
Doubts bandage on their eyes-who
Starve and chill and hurt, but hold TO
courage and to hope, because they
know that there is always proof of
truth for them who try-that only
cuwardice and lack of faith can keep
the seeker from his chosen goal, but II
his heart be strong and If he dream
enough and dream il hard enough, he
can attain. no matter where men fail
ed before.
Walls crumble and empires fall. The
tidal wave sweeps from sea and tears
Il fortress from its rocks. The rotting
nations drop from off Times bough
and only things the dreamers make
live on.
They are the Eternal COnquerorS-
their vaSSalS are the years.