There is no peace save where I am not,

The woods are gay where I never pass,

Nothing but shadows are where my thought

Plunges its feet in the moist dead grass.

Nothing save shadows and day elsewhere

Waiting for those that await and hope.

A horror lays its wind on my hair,

And a cold hand does for my cold hand grope.

Yet nothing in me save pain merits this,

Nothing in me save this merits pain.

Oh, Mother of Shadows, whose ice-dead kiss

Is madness, hasten towards my brain!