Tipped over by the alley-cat,
Or what not, change, distrust or fear;
Your pride, your will, a hovering gnat
I struck at striking you, a blear
Of eyes a moment, making blind
My vision, yours.... Or there's the age,
The age is frightful to my mind,
Nothing to do but stand it—well
I sit here and say "hell."
For it's really hell to have a will,