Classic Poem

If thro' th' abyss of terror stealing
Those touching sounds my purpose stay'd
Some ling'ring trace of childish feeling
With voice of merrier times betray'd;
I curse the more whate'er environs
The cheated soul with juggling shows,
Those hearts' allurements, fancy's syrens
That bind us to this den of woes
Accursed first the tinsel dreaming
Of innate worth our spirits weave!
Each hollow form so lovely seeming
That shines our senses to deceive!
A curse on all one seed that scatters
Of hopes our name from Death to save!
On all as ours on Earth that flatters
As child or wife, as plough or slave!
A curse on mammon when with treasures
He tempts to high and hardy deeds,
When spreading soft the couch of pleasures
The drousy soul he captive leads!
A curse on juice of grapes deceiving,
On Love's wild thrill, of raptures first!
A curse on hoping, on believing!
And patience more than all be curs'd!
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