So that no man there breathes earth's simple breath, As if alone on mountains or wide seas; But nourishes warm life or hastens death 10 With joys and sorrows, health and foul disease, Wisdom and folly, good and evil labours, Incessant of his multitudinous neighbors; He in his turn affecting all of these. That City's atmosphere is dark and dense, 15 Although not many exiles wander there, With many a potent evil influence, Each adding poison to the poisoned air; Infections of unutterable sadness, Infections of incalculable madness, 20 Infections of incurable despair. XVI Our shadowy congregation rested still, As musing on that message we had heard And brooding on that "End it when you will;" Perchance awaiting yet some other word; When keen as lightning through a muffled sky 5 Sprang forth a shrill and lamentable cry:-- The man speaks sooth, alas! the man speaks sooth: We have no personal life beyond the grave; There is no God; Fate knows nor wrath nor ruth: Can I find here the comfort which I crave? 10 In all eternity I had one chance, One few years' term of gracious human life: The splendours of the intellect's advance, The sweetness of the home with babes and wife; The social pleasures with their genial wit: 15 The fascination of the worlds of art, The glories of the worlds of nature, lit By large imagination's glowing heart; The rapture of mere being, full of health; The careless childhood and the ardent youth, 20 The strenuous manhood winning various wealth, The reverend age serene with life's long truth: All the sublime prerogatives of Man; The storied memories of the times of old, The patient tracking of the world's great plan 25 Through sequences and changes myriadfold. This chance was never offered me before; For me this infinite Past is blank and dumb: This chance recurreth never, nevermore; Blank, blank for me the infinite To-come. 30 And this sole chance was frustrate from my birth, A mockery, a delusion; and my breath Of noble human life upon this earth So racks me that I sigh for senseless death. My wine of life is poison mixed with gall, 35 My noonday passes in a nightmare dream, I worse than lose the years which are my all: What can console me for the loss supreme? Speak not of comfort where no comfort is, Speak not at all: can words make foul things fair? 40 Our life's a cheat, our death a black abyss: Hush and be mute envisaging despair.--