Deep in the Muck of Unregarded Doom

Deep in the muck of unregarded doom,
Where none can make a conquest, none have room
To stretch an aching muscle,—there might be
Interstices where impulse could go free . . .
There, where accomplishment cannot achieve,
Valour defend, religion quite believe,
Or vengeance plot behavior,—there may still
Be cracks, uneasy instinct well might fill
And even worm it’s way along, until
All might begin again; and Man receive
In prospect, what he never can retrieve.