Dead Sea Fruit

All things have power to hold us back. Our very hopes build up a wall Of doubt, whose shadow stretches black O’er all.

The dreams, that helped us once, become Dread disappointments, that oppose Dead eyes to ours, and lips made dumb With woes.

The thoughts that opened doors before Within the mind’s house, hide away; Discouragement hath locked the door For aye.

Come, loss, more frequently than gain! And failure than success! until The spirit’s struggle to attain Is still!