So, the head aches and the limbs are faint!
Flesh is a burden—even to you!
Can I force a smile with a fancy quaint?
Why are my ailments none or few?
In the soul of me sits sluggishness;
Body so strong and will so weak:
The slave stands fit for the labor—yes,
But the master's mandate is still to seek.
You, now—what if the outside clay