the sun for sorrow

a glooming peace and not a happy calm
hold us in place and keep us from our rest
there's never been such a deep lack of zest
nor absence here of any sort of balm
we act we think despite judicious qualm
to face the world as if a constant test
giving each time only what we give best
and singing to ourselves a cheerful psalm
debate and war are not about to cast
our pleasures and our wishes into dust
but under the grim sky we think they could
all of our truths are consigned to the past
we are required and therefore think we must
achieve just what our fathers said they would