Imprisoned ’mid the iron bars of forms.
I have no hope of happiness in life,
That is not bound up with the mighty past.
The present is a Hell—the future, dark.
Earth’s comforters are for the happy few.
No denizen am I. I stand alone.
Alone, for judgment?
Stormy and wild my passions—full of sins,
Grievous and bitter. Who shall succor me?
I looked to love—I found it hollowness.