WHAT of all the will to do?
  It has vanished long ago,
For a dream-shaft pierced it through
  From the Unknown Archer’s bow.
 

What of all the soul to think?
  Some one offered it a cup
Filled with a diviner drink,
  And the flame has burned it up.
 

What of all the hope to climb?
  Only in the self we grope
To the misty end of time:
  Truth has put an end to hope.
 

What of all the heart to love?
  Sadder than for will or soul,
No light lured it on above;
  Love has found itself the whole.

Added: May 12 2003 | Viewed: 821 times | Comments (0)

Poet: George William Russell
Poem: 87. 87. Sung on a By-way
Volume: Collected Poems by A.E.
Year: Published/Written in 1913
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