Oh, gain were indeed to see above
Supremacy ever--to move, remove,
Not reach--aspire yet never attain
To the object aimed at! Scarce in vain--
As each stage I left nor touched again.
To suffer, did pangs bring the loved one bliss,
Wring knowledge from ignorance,--just for this--
To add one drop to a love-abyss!
Enough: for you doubt, you hope, O men,
You fear, you agonize, die: what then?
Is an end to your life's work out of ken?
Have you no assurance that, earth at end,
Wrong will prove right? Who made shall mend
In the higher sphere to which yearnings tend?
Why should I speak? You divine the test.
When the trouble grew in my pregnant breast
A voice said "So wouldst thou strive, not rest?"
"Burn and not smoulder, win by worth,
Not rest content with a wealth that's dearth?
Thou art past Rephan, thy place be Earth!"
Browning was an optimist with his last breath. In the _Prologue_ to
_Asolando_, a conventional person is supposed to be addressing the
poet: he says, "Of course your old age must be sad, because you have
now lost all your youthful illusions.
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