yea, we despair. because the night is long,

and all arms weary with the endless fight

with blind, black forces of insulted law

which we continually disobey,

and know not how to honor if we would.

how can we fight when every effort fails,

and the vast hydra looms before us still

headed as thickly as at dawn of day,

fierce as when evening fell on us at war?

we are aweary, and no help appears;

no light, no knowledge, no sure way to kill

our ancient enemy. let us give o’er!

we do but fight with fate! lay down your arms!

retreat! surrender! better live as slaves

than fight forever on a losing field!

hold, ye faint-hearted! ye are not alone!

into your worn-out ranks of weary men

come mighty reinforcements, even now!

look where the dawn is kindling in the east,

brave with the glory of the better day,—

a countless host, an endless host, all fresh,

with unstained banners and unsullied shields,

with shining swords that point to victory,

and great young hearts that know not how to fear,—

the children come to save the weary world!