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.