document.write("If but some vengeful god would call to me<br />From up the sky, and laugh: \\\"Thou suffering thing,<br />Know that thy sorrow is my ecstasy,<br />that thy love\\\'s loss is my hate\\\'s profiting!\\\"<br /><br />Then would I bear it, clench myself, and die,<br />Steeled by the sense of ire unmerited;<br />Half-eased in that a Powerfuller than I<br />Had willed and meted me the tears I shed.<br /><br />But not so.  How arrives it joy lies slain,<br />And why unblooms the best hope ever sown?<br />--Crass Casualty obstructs the sun and rain,<br />And dicing Time for gladness casts a moan. . .<br />These purblind Doomsters had as readily strown<br />Blisses about my pilgrimage as pain.");