The Wanderer's Despair

"So, in dreams, I wand'red, drowsing,

(After nights of drink, carousing)

And a scent, my wits arousing;

Scent of burning flesh, disgust -

Through the twilight valley falling,

Answering an unheard calling,

Senseless letters, useless scrawling,

Nothing sane that I can trust -

Now, the charnel gulf expanding,

Nothing vernal in this landing,

Still the mad'ning understanding

That fate worse than death awaits -

On a plane of flesh and sinew,

Bid my feet to discontinue,

Through this strange unearthly venue,

Stand before the outer gates -

How long have I stood, unblinking,

'Ere I find my wayward thinking,

And my conscious mind now shrinking,

Taking in what lies about -

How to leave? I have no reason,

How my mind performed this treason,

Here, in this disqui'ting season,

Voice a whisper when I shout -

There before me stands a being,

Never blinking, yet unseeing,

I advance, though ought be fleeing,

Here at madness' feet I kneel -

And a wound within me growing,

Soul departs and senses flowing,

Mind is injured from this knowing,

Wounds that I may never heal -

And awake before my fire,

Dancing flames a mental pyre,

Long I sit, 'ere I retire,

Fearful of the fleeing sun -

Oh! That I should still be waking,

Once again, in charnel quaking,

Once again, my spirit breaking;

By my trait'rous soul undone!"