Chapter XVII: The Enigma

Eternally grieving and arraigning eyes, Why vex my heart? What is it I can do? Can I call back the hounds of Time with sighs, Or find inviolate peace to bring you to, Pluck frenzy from the amazed soul of man, Or curb the horses of raging poverty That trample you until--escape who can,-- Or spill the honey from rich revelry And strip the silken days?--Alas! alas! I am so dream-locked that I cannot know Why it is not much easier to pass To death than let love's haughty cloister show A common hostel for such taverners.-- Ye know, who are perhaps my ransomers.