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Robert Laurence Binyon - Sorrow
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Woe to him that has not known the woe of man,
 Who has not felt within him burning all the want
 Of desolated bosoms, since the world began;
 Felt, as his own, the burden of the fears that daunt;
 Who has not eaten failure`s bitter bread, and been
 Among those ghosts of hope that haunt the day, unseen.

 Only when we are hurt with all the hurt untold,--
 In us the thirst, the hunger, and ours the helpless hands,
 The palsied effort vain, the darkness and the cold,--
 Then, only then, the Spirit knows and understands,
 And finds in every sigh breathed out beneath the sun
 The human heart that makes us infinitely one.
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