Dead Sea Fruit

All things have power to hold us back.
Our very hopes build up a wall
Of doubt, whose shadow stretches black
O'er all.
The dreams, that helped us once, become
Dread disappointments, that oppose
Dead eyes to ours, and lips made dumb
With woes.
The thoughts that opened doors before
Within the mind's house, hide away;
Discouragement hath locked each door
For aye.
Come, loss, more frequently than gain!
And failure than success! until
The spirit's struggle to attain
Is still!