 | Uncollected poems and prose of Edwin Arlington Robinson |  |
17
DOUBTS
Yes, this is the end of life, I suppose—
To do what we can for ourselves and others;
But men who find tragedy writ in a rose
May forget sometimes there are sons and mothers—
To do what we can for ourselves and others;
But men who find tragedy writ in a rose
May forget sometimes there are sons and mothers—
Fathers and daughters of love and hate,
Scattered like hell-spawn down from Heaven,
To teach mankind to struggle and wait
Till life be over and death forgiven.
Scattered like hell-spawn down from Heaven,
To teach mankind to struggle and wait
Till life be over and death forgiven.
| Uncollected poems and prose of Edwin Arlington Robinson | |