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say which were best.
Sowing seeds which we must gather,
Rousing storms which we must weather,
Some yoke neath which our souls are driven,
Some chain to which our souls are riven,
Some brand which must for aye remain,
Some self-inflicted damning stain!
Rousing storms which we must weather,
Some yoke neath which our souls are driven,
Some chain to which our souls are riven,
Some brand which must for aye remain,
Some self-inflicted damning stain!
And is this all? Oh! if it were,
It then were well to bravely dare
The whelming floods of guilt and sin,
And plunge our shivering souls within,
And let its headlong torrent flow
O'er all remorse, regret, or woe,
Laving in Lethe tides all sense
Of Being's nobler influence:
If but to be a worm, 'tis best
Hushed in some fair and downy nest,
To pass through Life in idle swoon
Until th' ignoble dream be done.
It then were well to bravely dare
The whelming floods of guilt and sin,
And plunge our shivering souls within,
And let its headlong torrent flow
O'er all remorse, regret, or woe,
Laving in Lethe tides all sense
Of Being's nobler influence:
If but to be a worm, 'tis best
Hushed in some fair and downy nest,
To pass through Life in idle swoon
Until th' ignoble dream be done.
But 'tis not so—we must endure
The fester ere the wound we cure.
(Sorrow th' eternal law of Earth,
The pangs of travail prelude Birth,
The fester ere the wound we cure.
(Sorrow th' eternal law of Earth,
The pangs of travail prelude Birth,
