And still later he says, as only he can say who has felt it:—
“My body moved in its mechanic course
Of soulless function: thought and passion ceased,
Or blindly stirred with undirected force,—
A weary trance which only Time decreased
By slow reductions.”
A sonnet of that dark hour, written on a leaf of his diary, remains to us, from which we quote two verses:—
“Moan, ye wild winds! around the pane,
And fall, thou drear December rain!
Fill with your gusts the sullen day,