They wound my soul again; I lie
Face earthward in fresh agony.
Oh, give me joy before I die!
World, world, I could have danced for thee,
And I had tales and minstrelsy;
Kept fairer, I had been more good.
(Hush, bread and salt should be thy mood,
Soul of the breadless Brotherhood.)
Some thou hast formed to play thy part,
The bold, the cold, the hard of heart.