Within doors, or without, still as a fool,
In power of others, never in my own—
Scarce half I seem to live, dead more than half.
Oh dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon, 80
Irrecoverably dark, total eclipse
Without all hope of day!
O first created beam, and thou great Word,
'Let there be light, and light was over all,'
Why am I thus bereaved thy prime decree? 85
The sun to me is dark