“Distracted, harassed by desires of sense,
Unmindful of the ‘what’ and ‘why’ of things,
Stung and inflated by the memories
Of former days, o’er which I lacked control—

Corrupting canker spreading o’er my heart—
I followed heedless dreams of happiness,
And got no even tenour to my mind,
All given o’er to dalliance with sense.

So did I fare for seven weary years,
In lean and sallow mis’ry of unrest.
I, wretched, found no ease by day or night,

So took a rope and plunged into the wood:
‘Better for me a friendly gallows-tree!
I’ll live again the low life of the world.’

Strong was the noose I made; and on a bough
I bound the rope and flung it round my neck,
When see! . . . my heart was set at liberty!”