English poem
Ii
by T. E. Hulme (1883–1917)
All souls beneath the gloom That pass with little flames, All these till time be run Pass one by one As Christs to save, and die; What wrong one sowed, Behold, another reaps! Where lips awake our joy The sad heart sleeps Within.
No man doth bear his sin, But many sins Are gathered as a cloud about man's way.