What Are the Years
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What is our innocence? what is our guilt?
All are naked, none is safe
And whence is courage? the unanswered question
The resolute doubt
Dumbly calling, deafly listening
That in misfortune even death encourages others
And in its defeat stirs the soul to be strong
He sees deep and is glad who accedes to mortality
And in his imprisonment
Rises upon himself as the sea in a chasm
Struggling to be free and unable to be
In its surrendering finds its continuing
So he who strongly feels behaves
The very bird grown taller as he sings
Steels his form straight up
Though he is captive his mighty singing says
Satisfaction is a lowly thing, how pure a thing is joy
This is mortality, this is eternity