Tis poison in the cup and in my blood.
The challis that was feared has prov’d its worth.
From height I fall but never reach the mud,
Still longing for the final break of earth.
The fearful wonder once within my veins
Has sat and rot for lo these many years.
There is no scrub to wash away the stains
That ever soak in unrelented tears.
Where is the song that once I heard so clear?
The wind? The whisper? All is still and hard.
Oh, when will flight return and life appear,
Or shall I walk with wings so heavy scarred?
I wish it were a dream that I could wake.
I don’t regret, but still my heart does ache.