Читать книгу Auld Lang Syne - Various - Страница 18

Poor restless heart! still thy lament,

Crave not for rest, refusèd still,

There is some struggle, – discontent,

   That stays thy will.

Be brave to meet unrest,

Nor seek from work release,

Clasp struggle close unto thy breast,

   Until it brings thee peace.

Seek not in creed a resting-place

From problems that around thee surge,

But look doubt bravely in the face,

   Till truth emerge.

Work out the problem of thy life,

To no convention chainèd be,

Against self-love wage ceaseless strife,

   And thus be free.

Then, if in harmony thou livest,

With all that’s in thy nature best,

Who “Sleep to his beloved giveth,”

   Will give thee rest.