Oh, but to float away upon the night,
To lose my soul upon her silent dark,
To feel myself a Nothing, a frail, light,
Aërial Emptiness, a fleeing spark
Of sunshine seeking on the endless void,
Some rest, some painless silence as its mark.
Like an oblivion-destined asteroid,
So would I that my soul should haste away
From all the ordinary, earthly, cloyed,
From all the tawdriness of living day;
But still I know I cannot cease to be,
Though I condemn my body back to clay--
O thrice accursèd immortality
That dooms me life through all Eternity!
X
O maddening horror in a smiling guise!
Alive or dead, I am a slave to life.
The later torment with the former vies
To wring my still-undying soul with strife.
I have a debt; the creditor is Time:
"My bond, my bond," he cries, and holds the knife
To wound yet never kill. But what my crime?
I fled those pleasure-haunted halls where vile,
Sweet-scented blisses soothed to pain. A clime
More active came within my ken. The dial
Of hours hurried round. The rich, new wine
Of busy life, I found. A steady file
Swept past of mortal things with souls like mine--
Yet what the purpose of their streaming line?