O, MY Spirit, art thou vanquisht?
Is thy latest prospect gone?
Must my task be thus relinquisht
Ere my noble end is won?
Must I die, and be remember'd
Never more, ah, never more!
As the clown who laught and slumber'd
Out his passing mortal hour?
Has my life been one untiring
Vigil kept at sorrow's shrine,—
One unceasing toil acquiring
What unsought for had been mine?
Have I undergone privations
That the noblest soul had bow'd,—
Stoop to unearn'd degradations
But to die, as die the crowd?
Whither wilt thou wander? whither?
From thy quest my soul refrain!
Sure the God who sent me hither
Had sonic purpose in my pain.
Joseph Skipsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-crushed-aspire/
