Page:The city of dreadful night - and other poems (IA cityofdreadfulni00thomrich).pdf/68

 Unvanquished in defeat and desolation, Undaunted in the hopeless conflagration Of the day setting on her baffled prime.

Baffled and beaten back she works on still, Weary and sick of soul she works the more, Sustained by her indomitable will: The hands shall fashion and the brain shall pore, And all her sorrow shall be turned to labour, Till Death the friend-foe piercing with his sabre That mighty heart of hearts ends bitter war.

But as if blacker night could dawn on night, With tenfold gloom on moonless night unstarred, A sense more tragic than defeat and blight, More desperate than strife with hope debarred, More fatal than the adamantine Never Encompassing her passionate endeavour, Dawns glooming in her tenebrous regard:

The sense that every struggle brings defeat Because Fate holds no prize to crown success; That all the oracles are dumb or cheat Because they have no secret to express;