O what availeth thee thy melting mood
O what availeth thee thy melting mood,
Thine ecstasy
When once again thy thralldoms o’er thee brood:
& what doth profit thee thy courage high,
& strength so fain;
So soon agen thy coward heart shall fly?
For more & stronger strife our strength shall strain,
Though hope’s best good
Be but this hope: to strive, & strive again.