II.
“Twenty years ago, alas!—but stay—
On my life, ’tis half-past twelve o’clock!
After all, the hours do slip away—
Come, here goes to burn another block!
For the night, or morn, is wet and cold;
And my fire is dwindling rather low:
I had fire enough, when young and bold
Twenty golden years ago.
III.
“Dear! I don’t feel well at all, somehow:
Few in Weimar dream how bad I am;
Floods of tears grow common with me now,
High-Dutch floods that Reason cannot dam.
Doctors think I’ll neither live nor thrive
If I mope at home so—I don’t know—
Am I living now? I was alive
Twenty golden years ago.
IV.
“Wifeless, friendless, flagonless, alone,
Not quite bookless, though, unless I choose;
Left with naught to do, except to groan,
Not a soul to woo, except the Muse.
Oh, this is hard for me to bear—
Me who whilom lived so much en haut—
Me who broke all hearts like china-ware,
Twenty golden years ago.
V.
“Perhaps ’tis better;—time’s defacing waves
Long have quenched the radiance of my brow—
They who curse me nightly from their graves
Scarce could love me were they living now;
But my loneliness hath darker ills—
Such dun duns as Conscience, Thought, & Co.,
Awful Gorgons! Worse than tailors’ bills
Twenty golden years ago.