III.
Songs have we sung, and many melodies
Have from our lips had issue rich and rare;
But never yet the conquering chant did rise,
That should ascend the very heaven's stair,
To rescue life from anguish and despair.
Often and again, drunk with delight of lays,
"Lo!" have we cried, "this is the golden one
That shall deliver us!"—Alas! Hope's rays
Die in the distance, and Life's sadness stays.
Why, but because our task is yet undone?
Envoy.
Great God of Love, thou whom all poets praise,
Grant that the aim of rest for us be won;
Let the light shine upon our life that strays
Disconsolate within the desert maze;
Why, but because our task is yet undone?
John Payne.