There is a torment of the days and years,
Born of the heart's distress, a life's despairs,
A haunting horror, quite unquenched by tears.
It brings thee darkness on the breath of dawn,
Bedims the roses of the day new-born,
And leaves thee lifeless, hopeless, and forlorn.
A thought unguarded, and a word unwise,
A glance impure of unregenerate eyes,—
And thou hast soiled thy garment of the skies.
