Something Left Undone

Labor with what zeal we will, / Something still remains undone, / Something uncompleted still / Waits the rising of the sun.

By the bedside, on the stair, / At the threshold, near the gates, / With its menace or its prayer, / Like a mendicant it waits;

Waits, and will not go away; / Waits, and will not be gainsaid; / By the cares of yesterday / Each to-day is heavier made;

Till at length the burden seems / Greater than our strength can bear, / Heavy as the weight of dreams, / Pressing on us everywhere.

And we stand from day to day, / Like the dwarfs of times gone by, / Who, as Northern legends say, / On their shoulders held the sky.