Let me not know that all is lost, though lost it be - leave me not tied to this despair, this corpse like bride

The world goes whispering to its own, "This anguish pierces to the bone;" And tender friends go sighing round, "What love can ever cure this wound?" My days go on, my days go on.

I turned to speak to God About the world's despair; But to make bad matters worse, I found God wasn't there

There were moments when life at school became a matter of utter indifference to him. Then the putty of his everyday concerns dropped out and, with nothing more to bind them together, the hours of his life fell apart.

Still ailing, Wind? Wilt be appeased or no?

Reads verse and thinks she understands.