Viii

--The deep woe of the mind when prison walls First darken it with shadow, throbbing hot To meet the outrage, as the bolts are shot, The locks ground home, and the long silence falls. And next a settling helplessness appals The sinking soul, as if that hour should blot One’s name out of the Book, as if one caught Of life’s retreat the hurrying last footfalls. Where once a vision smiled of rankèd days Drawn on life’s vista’d curtain rich and vast, Only a gulf now yawns. Of all the plays Played out in visions, we have played the last. The future bankrupt, ’tis the present pays; And of life’s triple span, remains--the Past.

RASTATT, 5th May