To guard some credit yet for having sense,
I hinted at the truth,—how I had changed,
And how had changed my thoughts about myself,
About my life-work. “For that fancy, friend,
That fancy thin my own true self reveal’d.
If spray it were, it left a constant sea
That heaves and heaves. With moods that move like mine,
So madden’d by traditions, calm’d by dreams,
Content scarce ever, till at hazard dash’d
Through ways that lead to sheer uncertainty,