The Mid-World
F. Hart
This is the red, red region
Your heart must journey through:
Your pains will here be legion
And joy be death for you.
Rejoice to-day: to-morrow
A turning tide shall flow
Through infinite tones of sorrow
To reach an equal woe.
You pass by love unheeding
To gain the goal you long --
But my heart, my heart is bleeding:
I cannot sing this song.