Well, well,—Heaven bless you all from day to day! Forgiveness too, or e’er we part, from each, As I do give it, so must I beseech: I owe all much, much more than I can pay; Therefore it is I go; how could I stay Where every look commits me to fresh debt, And to pay little I must borrow yet? Enough of this already, now away! With silent woods and hills untenanted Let me go commune; under thy sweet gloom, O kind maternal Darkness, hide my head: The day may come I yet may re-assume My place, and, these tired limbs recruited, seek The task for which I now am all too weak. IV Yes, I have lied, and so must walk my way, Bearing the liar’s curse upon my head; Letting my weak and sickly heart be fed On food which does the present craving stay, But may be clean-denied me e’en to-day, And tho’ ’twere certain, yet were ought but bread; Letting—for so they say, it seems, I said, And I am all too weak to disobey! Therefore for me sweet Nature’s scenes reveal not Their charm; sweet Music greets me and I feel not Sweet eyes pass off me uninspired; yea, more, The golden tide of opportunity Flows wafting-in friendships and better,—I Unseeing, listless, pace along the shore. V How often sit I, poring o’er My strange distorted youth, Seeking in vain, in all my store, One feeling based on truth; Amid the maze of petty life A clue whereby to move, A spot whereon in toil and strife To dare to rest and love. So constant as my heart would be, So fickle as it must, ’Twere well for others as for me ’Twere dry as summer dust. Excitements come, and act and speech Flow freely forth;—but no, Nor they, nor ought beside can reach The buried world below. 1841 VI ——Like a child In some strange garden left awhile alone, I pace about the pathways of the world, Plucking light hopes and joys from every stem With qualms of vague misgiving in my heart That payment at the last will be required, Payment I cannot make, or guilt incurred, And shame to be endured. 1841 VII ——Roused by importunate knocks I rose, I turned the key, and let them in, First one, anon another, and at length In troops they came; for how could I, who once Had let in one, nor looked him in the face, Show scruples e’er again? So in they came, A noisy band of revellers,—vain hopes, Wild fancies, fitful joys; and there they sit In my heart’s holy place, and through the night Carouse, to leave it when the cold grey dawn Gleams from the East, to tell me that the time For watching and for thought bestowed is gone. 1841 VIII