XXIII.

THE BALLAD OF THE WORLD'S VANITY.



I.


Mournfully maundering,
Life's last moments squandering,
Weary, weary, wandering,
Through this world of sin,
Hermit-shade! I call thee;
Lead me to the valley--
That mysterious alley,
Where I may creep in.

World of strange illusion!
Fancy-born delusion!
Reason-bred confusion!
Phantasmagoria!
Love, where shall I find thee?
Faith, how shall I bind thee?
Truth, who has defined thee?
Changing every day.