The search and the question are vain. By use of the strength that is in you, by wrestling of soul and of sinew the blessing of God you may gain. There are lights in the far-gleaming Heaven that never will shine on our eyes; To morales it may not be given to range those inviolate skies. The mind, whether praying or scorning. That tempts those dread secrets shall fail; But strive through the night till the morning, and mightily shalt thou prevail.

Is the world like chess ?
You win and lose ?
Slow flapping in the setting sun
by twos and trees,
in wavering rows.
As twilight shadows dimly close,
the players fly over
the chess mind.

Under the crimson sunset sky
the players mind lie,
in winter y torpor bleak and dun.
Through the rich value of heaven,
which shines like a warmed opal 
in the sun over the chess players.