Of the thirst that madmen know,
When the world for them is the diadem
That burns into the brow.
They who crouch in the deepest gloom
Where no lightning-flash can dart,
Who, chained in couples, have hither come,
And can never be rent apart;
These are they whose life was a scene of strife,
And who learnt, alas! too late,
That the years flew fast which they each had cast