I do not know whether my last works should be:
The bright day is dona
And we are for the dark,
Or,as I sometimes allow myself to hope,
The world's great age begins anew,
The golden years return...
Heaven smiles,and faith and empires gleam,
Like wrecks of a dissolving dream.
I have done what I could to add my small weigh in an attempt to tip
The balance on the side of hope,but it has been a puny effort against vast forces
May others succeed where my generation failed.