There is no hope, and yet I keep on fighting. There is no chance, and yet I fight the more. Fate's holocaust is loosed against me, blighting My dream of triumph that I held of yore; Sick am I, sick unto the very core Of heavy wrongs there is no way of righting. Yea, I am weary of the battle roar Beneath black skies no sun is ever lighting. I see no gleam of victory alluring, No chance of splendid booty or of gain; If I endure I must go on enduring And my reward for bearing pain—is pain; Yet, though the hope, the thrill, the zest are gone, Something within me keeps me fighting on! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DAWN BEHIND NIGHT by ISAAC ROSENBERG BERTHA IN THE LANE by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD: SONG by OLIVER GOLDSMITH THE WHITE HOUSE by CLAUDE MCKAY TEARS by TUMADIR BINT IBN AL-SHARID AL-KHANSA BALLAD OF THE SABRE CROSS AND 7 by IRVING BACHELLER |