Failure.

We are much bound to them that do succeed;
    But, in a more pathetic sense, are bound
To such as fail. They all our loss expound;
They comfort us for work that will not speed,
And life - itself a failure.
        Ay, his deed,
Sweetest in story, who the dusk profound
    Of Hades flooded with entrancing sound,
Music's own tears, was failure. Doth it read
    Therefore the worse? Ah, no! so much, to dare,
    He fronts the regnant Darkness on its throne. -
So much to do; impetuous even there,
    He pours out love's disconsolate sweet moan -
He wins; but few for that his deed recall:
Its power is in the look which costs him all.

Jean Ingelow

Jean Ingelow was an English poet and novelist known for her popular stories and poems in the 19th century. Her work, including 'Mopsa the Fairy', earned her recognition during her lifetime. She was also involved in the Pre-Raphaelite movement. Ingelow published several poetry collections, with her first in 1863, which was well-received and cemented her reputation as a poet.

Jean Ingelow

Though All Great Deeds.

Jean Ingelow, Simple Poetry

Thick Orchards All In White. (Hymn)

Jean Ingelow, Simple Poetry

Give Us Love And Give Us Peace.

Jean Ingelow, Simple Poetry

English

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Failure.

There are some souls
Whose lot it is to set their hearts on goals
That adverse Fate controls.

While others win
With little labor through life's dust and din,
And lord-like enter in

Immortal gates;
And, of Success the high-born intimates,
Inherit Fame's estates. . .

Why is't the lot
Of merit oft to struggle and yet not
Attain? to toil for what?

Simply to know
The disappointment, the despair and woe
Of effort here below?

Ambitious still to reach
Those lofty peaks, which men aspiring preach,
For which their souls beseech:

Those heights that swell
Remote, removed, and unattainable,
Pinnacle on pinnacle:

Still yearning to attain
Their far repose, above life's stress and strain,
But all in ...

Madison Julius Cawein

On A Picture.

As a forlorn soul waiting by the Styx
    Dimly expectant of lands yet more dim,
Might peer afraid where shadows change and mix
    Till the dark ferryman shall come for him.

And past all hope a long ray in his sight,
    Fall'n trickling down the steep crag Hades-black
Reveals an upward path to life and light,
    Nor any let but he should mount that track.

As with the sudden shock of joy amazed,
    He might a motionless sweet moment stand,
So doth that mortal lover, silent, dazed,
    For hope had died and loss was near at hand.

'Wilt thou?' his quest. Unready but for 'Nay,'
He stands at fault for joy, she whispering 'Ay.'

Jean Ingelow

Failure

No ray, no will-o'-wisp, no firefly gleam;
Nothing but night around
The only sound the sobbing of a stream
Within the hush profound.

Then suddenly the chanting of a bird,
Plaintive, appealing, far
And in my heart the murmur of a word,
And high in heaven a star.

A star, that shone out suddenly and seemed
A herald of the light,
The dawn, that cried within me, "Lo! you dreamed
That 'twould be always night!

"If night be here, dawn is not far away,
However dark the sky.
And in the heart whatever doubts betray,
Faith still stands smiling by.

"Put trust in God, and hold to your one aim.
And though it is to be
Failure at last, then let it seem the same
As victory."

Madison Julius Cawein

Success

As we gaze up life's slope, as we gaze
    In the morn, ere the dewdrops are dry,
What splendour hangs over the ways,
    What glory gleams there in the sky,
    What pleasures seem waiting us, high
On the peak of that beauteous slope,
What rainbow-hued colours of hope,
    As we gaze!

As we climb up the hill, as we climb,
    Our hearts, our illusions, are rent:
For Fate, who is spouse of old Time,
    Is jealous of youth and content.
    With brows that are brooding and bent
She shadows our sunlight of gold,
And the way grows lonely and cold
    As we climb.

As we toil on, through trouble and pain,
    There are hands that will shelter and feed;
But once let us dare to ATTAIN -
    They will bruise our bare hearts till they bleed.<...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

For The Man Who Fails

The world is a snob, and the man who wins
Is the chap for its money's worth:
And the lust for success causes half of the sins
That are cursing this brave old earth.
For it 's fine to go up, and the world's applause
Is sweet to the mortal ear;
But the man who fails in a noble cause
Is a hero that 's no less dear.

'T is true enough that the laurel crown
Twines but for the victor's brow;
For many a hero has lain him down
With naught but the cypress bough.
There are gallant men in the losing fight,
And as gallant deeds are done
As ever graced the captured height
Or the battle grandly won.

We sit at life's board with our nerves highstrung,
And we play for the stake of Fame,
And our odes are sung and our banners hung
For the man who wins t...

Paul Laurence Dunbar

Though All Great Deeds.

Though all great deeds were proved but fables fine,
    Though earth's old story could be told anew,
    Though the sweet fashions loved of them that sue
Were empty as the ruined Delphian shrine -
Though God did never man, in words benign,
    With sense of His great Fatherhood endue,
    Though life immortal were a dream untrue,
And He that promised it were not divine -
Though soul, though spirit were not, and all hope
    Reaching beyond the bourne, melted away;
Though virtue had no goal and good no scope,
    But both were doomed to end with this our clay -
Though all these were not, - to the ungraced heir
Would this remain, - to live, as though they were.

Jean Ingelow