A poem for kath

[Ebrius]

Happiness is not to mount the steed of war and pride,

Nor to descend, while living yet, to Eden’s halls below;
It hath no shape, no hue, no form to stand as guide—
Happiness: to feel but once in life joy’s fleeting glow.
While this existence pours into a night without a dawn,
Where shall eternal bliss upon the earth be found?
Though thou perform the noblest deed man e’er has drawn,
The prize is but to ride the steed named Victory round.
All things have shape; each sorrow bears its healing art;
The world-tree yields its fruits in manifold degree.
Victory stern, and knowledge hard, defeat a wounded heart,
And love gives pain—yet happiness is one, and mystery.
Happiness: to cross the lofty mountains, bare and high;
To race toward distant lands where death may bar the way;
To speak at God’s own feast with spirit lifted to the sky—
And once within thy life—ah, once!—to know a single day of joy’s pure ray.

did GPT write this ?