YET, yet, ye downcast hours, I know ye also;
 Weights of lead, how ye clog and cling at my ankles!
 Earth to a chamber of mourning turns--I hear the o'erweening, mocking
 voice,
 Matter is conqueror--matter, triumphant only, continues onward.


 Despairing cries float ceaselessly toward me,
 The call of my nearest lover, putting forth, alarm'd, uncertain,
 The Sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me,
 Come tell me where I am speeding--tell me my destination.


 I understand your anguish, but I cannot help you,
 I approach, hear, behold--the sad mouth, the look out of the eyes,
 your mute inquiry, 10
 Whither I go from the bed I recline on, come tell me:
 Old age, alarm'd, uncertain--A young woman's voice, appealing to me
 for comfort;
 A young man's voice, Shall I not escape?