Fortune

One must have courage as strong
As Sisyphus', lifting this weight!
Though the heart for the work may be great,
Time is fleeting, and Art is so long!
Far from the tombs of the brave
Toward a churchyard obscure and apart,
Like a muffled drum, my heart
Beats a funeral march to the grave.
But sleeping lies many a gem
In dark, unfathomed caves,
Far from the probes of men;
And many a flower waves
And wastes its sweet perfumes
In desert solitudes.