4649377Poems — DissatisfiedEdith Willis Linn

DISSATISFIED.
O sad, while the song-bird sweetly
Proclaims the morning's light.
So sad, while the baby voices
Babble a gay good night.

So sad for the ideal vanished,
So sad for the far-off years;
So sad for the faint fulfillment,
So sad for the causeless tears.

So sad for a lack of longing,
Although the great ideal,
Which has led me ever onward,
Is still beyond the real.