Skip to content
1876–1944

THE SEARCH

Helen Hay Whitney

I tire of the struggle, the search for the ultimate I, There hangs the chalice of sapphire, the infinite sky, Why thro’ the space of despair should my spirit be hurled Seeking for truth, when beneath lies this pearl of a world?

Seers may direct us thro’ pain to discover the soul, Comforting joy may not give us the absolute whole, But if the seers should be wrong, may the truth not be ours Thanking dear Life for its light and its beautiful hours?

Cookies on Poetry Cove

We use cookies to remember your language preference and — only with your consent — to learn how Poetry Cove is used. You can change your mind any time.
THE SEARCH · Helen Hay Whitney · Poetry Cove