Must all of worth be travailled for, and those

Life’s brightest stars rise from a troubled sea?

Must years go by in sad uncertainty

Leaving us doubting whose the conquering blows,

Are we or Fate the victors? Time which shows

All inner meanings will reveal, but we

Shall never know the upshot. Ours to be

Wasted with longing, shattered in the throes,

The agonies of splendid dreams, which day

Dims from our vision, but each night brings back;

We strive to hold their grandeur, and essay

To be the thing we dream. Sudden we lack

The flash of insight, life grows drear and gray,

And hour follows hour, nerveless, slack.

***

More poems by Amy Lowell