122
MONOTONY.
Unrealized, the dim hours come and go,
A hooded, listless file of shadows pale;
Men's deeds like visions pass, and scarce avail
To stir dull thought or give it ebb or flow;
The hopes that pushed us Heavenward once, aglow
With passionate desire, now flag and fail;
The lights have vanished, and the wine grown stale,
The blade is rusted and unstrung the bow.
Oh, better far to climb the toilsome height
Than linger in the valley's flowered way,
Far better in a losing cause to fight
Than feel one's sinews wasting day by day;
Give me the hemlock draught and dreamless night,
Before this daily death of apathy!
