XLI
My faith it is that all the wanton pack
Of living shall be—hush, poor heart!—withdrawn,
As even to the camel comes a dawn
Without a burden for his wounded back.
XLII
If there should be some truth in what they teach
Of unrelenting Monkar and Nakyr,
Before whose throne all buried men appear—
Then give me to the vultures, I beseech.
XLIII
Some yellow sand all hunger shall assuage
And for my thirst no cloud have need to roll,
And ah! the drooping bird which is my soul
No longer shall be prisoned in the cage.
XLIV
Life is a flame that flickers in the wind,
A bird that crouches in the fowler's net—
Nor may between her flutterings forget
That hour the dreams of youth were unconfined.
XLV
There was a time when I was fain to guess
The riddles of our life, when I would soar
Against the cruel secrets of the door,
So that I fell to deeper loneliness.