"The Struggle Naught Availeth" 2731

Not always fall of leaf, nor ever spring,
No endless night, yet not eternal day;
The saddest birds a season find to sing,
The roughest storm a calm may soon allay:
Thus, with succeeding turns, God tempereth all,
That man may hope to rise. yet fear to fall.

A chance may win that by mischance was lost;
That net that holds no great, takes little fish;
In some things all, in all things none are crossed;
Few all they need, but none have all they wish.
Unmingled joys here to no man befall:

Who least, hath some; who most, hath never all.
Robert Southwell [1561?-1595]

"SAY NOT, THE STRUGGLE NAUGHT AVAILETH”

SAY not, the struggle naught availeth,
The labor and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,
And as things have been they remain.

If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;
It may be, in yon smoke concealed,
Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers,
And, but for you, possess the field.

For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,
Seem here no painful inch to gain,
Far back, through creeks and inlets making,
Comes silent, flooding in, the main.

And not by eastern windows only,

When daylight comes, comes in the light;
In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly,
But westward, look, the land is bright.

Arthur Hugh Clough [1819-1861]

KYRIELLE

A LARK in the mesh of the tangled vine,
A bee that drowns in the flower-cup's wine,
A fly in the sunshine, such is man.

All things must end, as all began.

A little pain, a little pleasure,
A little heaping up of treasure;
Then no more gazing upon the sun.
All things must end that have begun.

Where is the time for hope or doubt?
A puff of the wind, and life is out;
A turn of the wheel, and rest is won.
All things must end that have begun.

Golden morning and purple night,
Life that fails with the failing light;
Death is the only deathless one.
All things must end that have begun.

Ending waits on the brief beginning;
Is the prize worth the stress of winning?
E'en in the dawning the day is done.
All things must end that have begun.

Weary waiting and weary striving,
Glad outsetting and sad arriving;
What is it worth when the goal is won?
All things must end that have begun.

Speedily fades the morning glitter;
Love grows irksome and wine grows bitter.
Two are parted from what was one.
All things must end that have begun.

Toil and pain and the evening rest;
Joy is weary and sleep is best;
Fair and softly the day is done.

All things must end that have begun.

John Payne [fl. 1770-1800]

"LET ME ENJOY"

LET me enjoy the earth no less
Because the all-enacting Might
That fashioned forth its loveliness
Had other aims than my delight.

About my path there flits a Fair,
Who throws me not a word or sign;
I will find charm in her uncare,

And laud those lips not meant for mine.

From manuscripts of moving song
Inspired by scenes and souls unknown,
I'll pour out raptures that belong
To others, as they were my own.

Perhaps some day, toward Paradise
And all its blest-if such should be-
I shall lift glad, afar-off eyes,
Though it contain no place for me.

Thomas Hardy [1840

SONG

BECAUSE the rose must fade,

Shall I not love the rose?

Because the summer shade

Passes when winter blows,

Shall I not rest me there

In the cool air?

Because the sunset sky

Makes music in my soul,

Only to fail and die,

Shall I not take the whole
Of beauty that it gives

While yet it lives?

Because the sweet of youth
Doth vanish all too soon,
Shall I forget, forsooth,

To learn its lingering tune;

My joy to memorize

In those young eyes?

If, like the summer flower

That blooms-a fragrant death,

Keen music hath no power

To live beyond its breath,
Then of this flood of song
Let me drink long!

Ah, yes, because the rose

Fades like the sunset skies;

Because rude winter blows
All bare, and music dies-
Therefore, now is to me

Eternity!

Richard Watson Gilder (1844-1909]

"WHERE RUNS THE RIVER"

WHERE runs the river? Who can say
Who hath not followed all the way
By alders green and sedges gray

And blossoms blue?

Where runs the river? Hill and wood
Curve round to hem the eager flood;
It cannot straightly as it would
Its path pursue.

Yet this we know: O'er whatso plains

Or rocks or waterfalls it strains,

At last the Vast the stream attains;

And I, and you.

Francis William Bourdillon [1852

Self-Dependence

2735

SELF-DEPENDENCE

WEARY of myself, and sick of asking
What I am, and what I ought to be,
At this vessel's prow I stand, which bears me
Forwards, forwards, o'er the starlit sea.

And a look of passionate desire

O'er the sea and to the stars I send:

"Ye who from my childhood up have calmed me, Calm me, ah, compose me to the end!

"Ah, once more," I cried, "ye stars, ye waters,

On my

heart your mighty charm renew;

Still, still let me, as I gaze upon you,

Feel my soul becoming vast like you!"

From the intense, clear, star-sown vault of heaven,

Over the lit sea's unquiet way,

In the rustling night-air came the answer:
"Wouldst thou be as these are? Live as they.

"Unaffrighted by the silence round them,
Undistracted by the sights they see,

These demand not that the things without them
Yield them love, amusement, sympathy.

"And with joy the stars perform their shining,
And the sea its long moon-silvered roll;
For self-poised they live, nor pine with noting
All the fever of some differing soul.

"Bounded by themselves, and unregardful
In what state God's other works may be,
In their own tasks all their powers pouring,
These attain the mighty life you see.”

cry

O air-born voice! long since, severely clear, like thine in mine own heart I hear: "Resolve to be thyself; and know, that he, Who finds himself, loses his misery!"

Matthew Arnold (1822-1888]