Oh, the morrow of pain and dole Is naught while the sunlight lingers.
Ah, love, 'tis a sorrowful land!
Yet earth has never child she may not slay, Nor sea a lover that she cannot kill.
God is a creed outworn, Ill-wrought from a mirage fair, And life is an image pale That faces a sunless morn.
Love is a jeering mime.
Let me leap naked through life's testing flame, And bear to lose, and yet endure to win.