So let them pass, these songs of mine, Into oblivion, nor repine; Abandoned ruins of large schemes, Dimmed lights adrift from nobler dreams, Weak wings I sped on quests divine, So let them pass, these songs of mine.
They soar, or sink ephemeral--I care not greatly which befall!
For if no song I e'er had wrought, Still have I loved and laughed and fought;
So let them pass, these songs of mine;
I sting too hot with life to whine!
Still shall I struggle, fail, aspire, Lose God, and find Gods in the mire, And drink dream-deep life's heady wine--So let them pass, these songs of mine.
