What were those pathos,
that brimmed up to zero;
Lull in wilderness and
other supposedly heroes..
What world will soothe,
which will follow?
When we have taken,
A word from every sorrow.
A word to prick,
A word too shallow.
Without a feeling,
to break like harrow.
And care not,
for what to follow.
As, when we have taken,
A word from every sorrow.
