Page:The roamer and other poems (1920).djvu/44

So in themselves abject is God disprized!"
And silence fell—far off the dark voice ceased.
Then desperately he rose,—"Something remains;
There is a failure worse than all defeat—
Not to attempt; yet there endureth strength
To fail with,—so to mix with those bright names,
My lovers lost who beckoned me afar,
Dust with their dust commingled, soul with soul!"
So sad a courage seldom wins its way;
And ever as he went his thoughts moved back,
And knowledge, gathered in the wasted years,
Poured its dark flood upon his flagging mind,—
Of heartlessness fixed at the core of things;
Of one blind Will that is the Universe,
Illusion made in man's intelligence,
Pain in his heart, and life its striving woe;
Of instinct never swerving from the line;
Reason, the instrument of all mistake,
And appetite, the passion multiforrn;
And from these two, that couple in each deed,
The birth is pain, and still increase of pain,
Though oft in joy disguised, but quickly found.
O, only he of men is fortunate,
Who on the seas of slumber dreamless lies,

Thrice happy if he drift unwakeful on,