Despair Before Us

So in this great disaster of our birth

We can be happy, and forget our doom.

For morning, with a ray of tenderest joy

Gilding the iron heaven, hides the truth.

And evening gently woos us to employ

Our grief in idle catches. Such is youth;

Till from that summer's trance we wake, to find

Despair before us, vanity behind. -George Santayana (Sonnet XXV)

Done