So let them pass, these songs of mine, Into oblivion, nor repine; Abandoned ruins of large schemes, Dimmed lights adrift from nobler dreams, Weak wings I sped on quests divine, So let them pass, these songs of mine. They soar, or sink ephemeral-- I care not greatly which befall! For if no song I e"er had wrought, Still have I loved and laughed and fought; So let them pass, these songs of mine; I sting too hot with life to whine! Still shall I struggle, fail, aspire, Lose God, and find Gods in the mire, And drink dream-deep life"s heady wine-- So let them pass, these songs of mine.