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Poem	Up from the evil day Of wattle and of woad, Along man's weary way Dark Pain has been the goad. Back from the age of stone, Within his brutish brain, What pleasure he has known Is ease from Pain. Behold in Pain the force That haled Man from the Pit, And set him such a course No mind can measure it. To angel from the ape No human pang was vain In that divine escape To joy through Pain. See Pain with stoic eyes And patient fortitude, A blessing in disguise, An instrument of good. Aye, though with hearts forlorn We to despair be fain, Believe that Joy is born From Womb of Pain.
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