Sung on a by-Way by George William Russell

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What of all the will to do?

It has vanished long ago, / For a dream-shaft pierced it through / From the Unknown Archer's bow.

What of all the soul to think?

Some one offered it a cup / Filled with a diviner drink, / And the flame has burned it up.

What of all the hope to climb?

Only in the self we grope / To the misty end of time: / Truth has put an end to hope.

What of all the heart to love?

Sadder than for will or soul, / No light lured it on above; / Love has found itself the whole.

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