| There it is, then, the world on a pin, | |
| A visage of vice, a soul of sin,- | |
| And would the vise that holds me fast | |
| In its warm embrace should at long last | |
| Release me from this prison of emotion, | |
| Tears shall I shed like to an ocean, | |
| Tears of joy, tears of relief, | |
| Tears to shatter my previous belief | |
| That the lovely vise, loveliest vise, | |
| To which I surrendered (no great vice), | |
| Was the only mate I should entertain,- | |
| Preposterous! though her captive I remain. | |
| And, now, another has caught my eye, | |
| But this one, as the last, throws away | |
| The offer I give, O! can't I die | |
| And not have to suffer another day | |
| Of loneliness, of bitterness? Sweet respite | |
| Should cover me like the blanket of night.- | |
| Death, thou traitor, come to me at last! | |
| Save me from the future, the present, the past, | |
| Save me from myself, the feelings I foster, | |
| And remind me not how I found her, then lost her. | |
| But thou, as she, ignorest my plea;- | |
| Alas, it is settled, alive I must be. | |
| This visage,- this soul,- is spotless of guilt, | |
| This I realize now, but the fortress is built | |
| Around these emotions I selfishly shield | |
| In hopes that the vise I cherish should yield. | |
| I laugh,- I laugh now! Yes, I must | |
| Drink my depression, forget the lust | |
| I still feel for this gorgeous child, | |
| I must get crazy, I must get wild. | |
| I thought I was tough, I thought I was tougher | |
| Than love. O! Lord, why must I suffer | |
| For these lovely vises I still desire | |
| In my wildest dreams (my heart's funeral pyre)? | |