SOMETHING LEFT UNDONE.
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abor with what zeal we will,Something still remains undone,Something uncompleted stillWaits the rising of the sun. By the bedside, on the stair,At the threshold, near the gates,With its menace or its prayer,Like a mendicant it waits; Waits, and will not go away;Waits, and will not be gainsaid;By the cares of yesterdayEach to-day is heavier made; Till at length the burden seemsGreater than our strength can bear,Heavy as the weight of dreams,Pressing on us everywhere. And we stand from day to day,Like the dwarfs of times gone by,Who, as Northern legends say,On their shoulders held the sky.
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