What shall I say to thee, my spirit, so soon dejected, <br />Unaccountably conquered, where thou seemed'st strong? <br />Life, that, yesterday, the sun's own glory reflected, <br />Darkened now, like a train of captives, crawls along. <br /> <br />Alas! 'tis an old trouble, vainly drugged to sleep. <br />Let it wake outright; be proved, confronted, known. <br />Desire however endless, love however deep <br />Still must search and hunger: thou art still alone. <br /> <br />Alone, alone! Ah, little avails with childish tears <br />In the night's silent darkness to struggle against thy pain; <br />With hands stretched out in a prayer that seems to reach no ears, <br />And desolate repetition of that forlorn refrain. <br /> <br />Alone into the world thou camest, and wast not afraid. <br />Out of it must thou go, with no hand to clasp thine. <br />Thou fear'st not death: why now need'st thou another's aid <br />To live thine own life out, nor falter and repine?<br /><br />Robert Laurence Binyon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-shall-i-say-to-thee-my-spirit-so-soon-dejected-2/
