Foolish hope thy heart heldst,
Didst one come and savethee?
Now art thou at precipice grim,
Thou hath only thineself as saviour.
None uncover'dst thy foul constitution,
For at once this life appear'dst.
Canst thou discern beginning and end?
Couldst one love hold thee back,
Or a word suspend?
How strange the trapping of thy mind,
That holds the truth!
Falling, falling, ever falling into that deep abyss.
Where no light doth shine,
And nothing is ever known.
May they find jocund morn,
And happy red filledst in thy stead.
Look! They rejoiceth!
So was thine truth so sadly true.
