BLINDEST and most frantic prayer, Clutching at a senseless boon, His that begs, in mad despair, Death to come; -- he comes so soon! Like a reveler that strains Lip and throat to drink it up -- The last ruby that remains, One red droplet in the cup, Like a child that, sullen, mute, Sulking spurns, with chin on breast, Of the Tree of Life a fruit, His gift of whom he is the guest, Outcast on the thither shore, Open scorn to him shall give Souls that heavier burdens bore: "See the wretch that dared not live!" |