I.
Mournfully maundering,
Life's last moments squandering,
Weary, weary, wandering,
Through this world of sin,
Hermit-shade! I call thee;
Lead me to the valley—
That mysterious alley,
Where I may creep in.
World of strange illusion!
Fancy-born delusion!
Reason-bred confusion!
Phantasmagoria!
Love, where shall I find thee?
Faith, how shall I bind thee?
Truth, who has defined thee?
Changing every day.
Streets of hurry scurry!
Fields of fire and fury!
Homes of wear and worry!
Passing quickly by;
Pleasure a wild snatching,
Dying in the catching,
Pain eternal watching
With relentless eye.
Sorrow, old Sin's daughter!
Screams of eldritch laughter!
Burning tears thereafter!
I've felt the vanity;
Still the hope pursuing,
The pursuit ever rueing,
Possession still undoing
The hope's fond prophecy.