 | Songs of A Worker |  |
127
A FRAGMENT.
Man shall not die. The darkness in his brain,
The canker at his heart, the ill of ages,
Shall pass and leave him as a worn-out pain.
Life from her books shall tear a thousand pages,
And like an unread record shall remain.
The canker at his heart, the ill of ages,
Shall pass and leave him as a worn-out pain.
Life from her books shall tear a thousand pages,
And like an unread record shall remain.
The history of his madness, when he fled
Beauty, the soul's bride, set before his gaze,
And followed necromantic ties to wed,
Death, with a lingering spousal all his days,
Gnawed on by worms as though already dead.
Beauty, the soul's bride, set before his gaze,
And followed necromantic ties to wed,
Death, with a lingering spousal all his days,
Gnawed on by worms as though already dead.
| Songs of A Worker | |