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Ada Cambridge - The Hands That Hang Down
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O Lord, I am so tired! 
    My heart is sick and sore. 
I work, and work, and do no good— 
    And I can try no more! 

I lay my treasures up, 
    And think they`re worth such care; 
And the next time I go to look, 
    There`s only rubbish there! 

I tug hard at the door 
    Of knowledge—strain and pant; 
But, Lord, the more I seem to learn, 
    The more I`m ignorant! 
Sometimes I am so vain 
    I set myself to teach; 
But e`en the first beginnings lie 
    Utterly out of reach! 

I am no use—no use! 
    I thought I might have been; 
But now I know how small I am, 
    How poor, how false, how mean! 

Sunk in the dust and mire 
    While aiming at the skies, 
Only a thing to laugh at, Lord, 
    To pity and despise!
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