Awake, bemused you yawn and snore, a prey
To sick nightmares although it is broad day,
Chief of your evils being that you fail
To extort from them what it is you ail.
Cruel the weight, you cry, upon your breast;
It wears you out, and robs you of your rest.
Seek whence it came, and by what right it took
You for pack-horse, and why it is you brook
The burden; put it, put your brain and heart
To the question. When you and Reason part,