Struggle not with thy life!—the heavy doom <br />Resist not, it will bow thee like a slave: <br />Strive not! thou shalt not conquer; to thy tomb <br />Thou shalt go crushed, and ground, though ne'er so brave. <br />Complain not of thy life!—for what art thou <br />More than thy fellows, that thou shouldst not weep? <br />Brave thoughts still lodge beneath a furrowed brow, <br />And the way-wearied have the sweetest sleep. <br />Marvel not at thy life!—patience shall see <br />The perfect work of wisdom to her given; <br />Hold fast thy soul through this high mystery, <br />And it shall lead thee to the gates of heaven.<br /><br />Frances Anne Kemble<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lines-written-in-london/
