‘No more, no more, a living part

In life’s contending maze to own;

Dead to its kind, an empty heart

Feeds on itself alone!—alone!

‘The present all a blank, and worse;

No ray along the future cast;

All blighted by the blighting curse,

Except the past!—except the past!

‘Ay, if the cup be crush’d and spilt,

More than the sin the loss I rue,