In Divers Tones

by Charles G.D. Roberts

Edited by Tracy Ware




What matter that the sad gray city sleeps,
   Sodden with dull dreams, ill at ease, and snow
   Still falling chokes the swollen drains! I know
That even with sun and summer not less creeps
My spirit thro’ gloom, nor ever gains the steeps
   Where Peace sits, inaccessible, yearned for so.
   Well have I learned that from my breast my woe
Starts,—that as my own hand hath sown, it reaps.

I have had my measure of achievement, won
   Most I have striven for; and at last remains

   This one thing certain only, that who gains
Success hath gained it at too sore a cost,
If in his triumph hour his heart have lost
   Youth, and have found its sorrow of age begun.