Aspiration

God knew he strove against pale lust and vice, Wound in the net of their voluptuous hair: God knew that to their kisses he was ice, Their arms around him there.

God knew against the front of fate he set A front as stern, with lips as sternly pressed; Raised clenched and ineffectual hands that met The iron of her breast.

God knew what motive his sad soul inspired: God knew the star for which he climbed and craved: God knew, and only God, the hell that fired His heart and in it raved.

And yet he failed! failed utterly!--No lie Of Hell, that writhes within its simmering pit, Sank deeper down than he, who, with the cry, “Now shall I rest from it!”

Died; was remembered, haply, for a day; Who hoped to rise rolled in the morning’s rose, The flame of fame, and still lies laid away Where no one cares or knows.