Where no breath across the heat
Whispers him that life was sweet;
But the sparkles mock and flare,
Scattering up the crooked air.
(Blackened with that bitter mirk,--
Would God know His handiwork?)

Thought is not for such as he;
Naught but strength, and misery;
Since, for just the bite and sup,
Life must needs be swallowed up.
Only, reeling up the sky,
Hurtling flames that hurry by,
Gasp and flare, with _Why_--_Why_,
... _Why_?...

Why the human mind of him
Shrinks, and falters and is dim
When he tries to make it out:
What the torture is about.--
Why he breathes, a fugitive
Whom the World forbids to live.
Why he earned for his abode,
Habitation of the toad!
Why his fevered day by day
Will not serve to drive away
Horror that must always haunt:--
... _Want_ ... _Want_!
Nightmare shot with waking pangs;--
Tightening coil, and certain fangs,