This page has been validated.
Through long, long years to seek, to strive, to yearn
For human love, and never quench that thirst;
To pour the soul out, winning no return,
O'er fragile idols, by delusion nursed—
No more!
On things that fail us, reed by reed, to lean,
To mourn the changed, the far away, the dead;
To send our searching spirits through th' unseen,
Intensely questioning for treasures fled—
No more!
Words of triumphant music!—bear we on
The weight of life, the chain, th' ungenial air;
Their deathless meaning, when our tasks are done,
To learn in joy:—to struggle, to despair—
No more!*[1]
- ↑
* "Jamais, jamais! Je ne serai aimé comme j'aime," was the mournful expression of Madame de Stael.
