Ioläus

Over the watery wastes I fled Where'er dim desolation led Beneath sad sun and moon! For faith was dead, and joy was dead, And love was where the phantoms tread, And bitterness was passion's bread: "Grant, jester Death," I, laughing, said, "Thy haggard fool a boon!" ...

And unforgiving, unforgiven, A derelict, by tempest driven, I drave beneath the breadth of heaven ...

Grim sorrow fell on all things fair; To dust was turned the lover's breath. Ah longing, like a pariah bare, And passion, led by lewd despair To kiss the smelling jowl of death!

As in a sunless cavern cold, Like one who flies a crime, Fearful, and old as God is old, The spirit shrank from time; For a stifled scream was the angry gold Of the weird sunset, and the noonday bold Was the stare on the face of a crime.

I saw as brain-b