Chapter I

O Life, dear Life, in this fair house Long since did I, it seems to me, In some mysterious doleful way Fall out of love with thee.

For, Life, thou art become a ghost, A memory of days gone by, A poor forsaken thing between A heartache and a sigh.

And now, with shadows from the hills Thronging the twilight, wraith on wraith, Unlock the door and let me go To thy dark rival Death!