O, Weak And Weary World!

A poem by Freeman Edwin Miller

O weak and weary world
Forever struggling on,
When will thy toils in comfort be impearled,
When will thy sorrows and thy cares be gone?
When shall the races, all ambition dead,
Forsake the stony slope and rocky steep,
And in contentment sweetly wed
The joys that never sleep?

O, weak and weary world,
Long hast thou toiled in vain;
The smoky fumes of woe are darkly curled
With endless troubles and enduring pain;
When will thy bosom, faint and helpless grown,
Rest sweetly in the balmy bowers of ease?
Avoid the woes that constant groan
And follow shapes that please?

O, weak and weary world,
Why search the hills and seas?
All Nature is in secrecy enfurled
And thou canst never solve her mysteries;
Thou canst not understand nor comprehend
Her varied movements nor the intricate,
The systems that so far extend,
Creation wide and great.

O, weak and weary world,
Why more attempt advance?
Long have thy forces in confusion whirled
In circles through the misty maze of chance;
The nations rise and sink in sepulchres,
Thy peoples perish in a common grave;
Progression dies, perfection errs,
Wrong rules the wood and wave.

O, weak and weary world,
Let thy ambition rest!
Long have defeat and gloomy ruin twirled
In dark embrace the purest and the best;
Destruction is thy portion, death thy part,
Ashes thy glory, and thy splendor dust;
Then ease the longings of thy breast;
Serve pleasures well; and trust!