Despair

O'er the midnight moorlands crying
Thro' the cypress forests sighing
In the night-wind madly flying
Hellish forms with streaming hair
In the barren branches creaking
By the stagnant swamp-pools speaking
Past the shore-cliffs ever shrieking
Damn'd daemons of despair

Once, I think I half remember
Ere the grey skies of November
Quench'd my youth's aspiring ember
Liv'd there such a thing as bliss
Skies that now are dark were beaming
Gold and azure, splendid seeming
Till I learn'd it all was dreaming—
Deadly drowsiness of Dis

But the stream of Time, swift flowing
Brings the torment of half-knowing—
Dimly rushing, blindly going
Past the never-trodden lea
And the voyager, repining
Sees the wicked death-fires shining
Hears the wicked petrel's whining
As he helpless drifts to sea

Evil wings in ether beating
Vultures at the spirit eating
Things unseen forever fleeting
Black against the leering sky

Ghastly shades of bygone gladness
Clawing fiends of future sadness
Mingle in a cloud of madness
Ever on the soul to lie

Thus the living, lone and sobbing
In the throes of anguish throbbing
With the loathsome Furies robbing
Night and noon of peace and rest

But beyond the groans and grating
Of abhorrent Life, is waiting
Sweet Oblivion, culminating
All the years of fruitless quest
All the years of fruitless quest
All the years of fruitless quest