So tired am I, so weary of today, So unrefreshed from foregone weariness, So overburdened by foreseen distress, So lagging and so stumbling on my way, I scarce can rouse myself to watch or pray, To hope, or aim, or toil for more or less, -- Ah, always less and less, even while I press Forward and toil and aim as best I may. Half-starved of soul and heartsick utterly, Yet lift I up my heart and soul and eyes (Which fail in looking upward) toward the prize: Me, Lord, Thou seest tho' I see not Thee; Me now, as once the Thief in Paradise, Even me, O Lord my Lord, remember me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN EPITAPH ON M.H. by CHARLES COTTON THE CONTRETEMPS by THOMAS HARDY LANCER by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN TO MY CHILDREN: 3 by DOLLIE CAROLINE MAITLAND RADFORD MOUNTAIN FROLIC by GEORGE LAWRENCE ANDREWS |