Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from Verses
If of the formlessmoods that hurry past We might seize only one and hold it fast (were it of all the mood most cold and poor), It would be easy bravely to endure The sight of what our fate was at its worst. N o tear from eye, nor wail from lip need burst. Our souls, possessed in patience, might inure Our lives to sober action. But our strength Is wasted in this long uncertainty. Our creeds elude our moods, - our moods our creeds, In ever-baf?ed chase, until at length We findthat we have spent our energy, And that our toil hath small result in deeds.
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