That light we know to be only seeming;
Those stars in dream looking down on dreaming;
Blank space which cheats us; quick time which slips;
Thin ghosts of wines which deride our yearning;
Pale shadows of love which leave us burning
To gain the rapture of unseen lips:

The faiths too cold for the heart's subsistence;
Hope's light too faint on a bleak existence;
All ways too many for ends in doubt:
But though perplex'd by disorder'd courses—
One strength call'd up from the soul's resources—
Still to go on and to do without!