What Of It Then

I.     Well, what of it then, if your heart be weighed with the yoke     Of the world's neglect? and the smoke     Of doubt, blown into your eyes, make night of your road?     And the sting of the goad,     The merciless goad of scorn,     And the rise and fall     Of the whip of necessity gall,     Till your heart, forlorn,     Indignant, in rage would rebel?     And your bosom fill,     And sobbingly swell,     With bitterness, yea, against God and 'gainst Fate,     Fate, and the world of men,     What of it then?. .     Let it be as it will,     If you labor and wait,     You, too, will arrive, and the end for you, too, will be well.     What of it then, say I! yea, what of it then! II.     Well, what of it then? if the hate of the world and of men     Make wreck of your dreams again?     What of it then     If contumely and sneer,     And ignorant jibe and jeer,     Be heaped upon all that you do and dream:     And the irresistible stream     Of events overwhelm and submerge     All effort or so it may seem?     Not all, not all shall be lost,     Not all, in the merciless gurge     And pitiless surge!     Though you see it tempestuously tost,     Though you see it sink down or sweep by,     Not in vain did you strive, not in vain!     The struggle, the longing and toil     Of hand and of heart and of brain,     Not in vain was it all, say I!     For out of the wild turmoil     And seething and soil     Of Time, some part of the whole will arise,     Arise and remain,     In spite of the wrath of the skies     And the hate of men.     What of it then, say I! yea, what of it then!