Once my desire, like a river,
Raced and fell among the jagged heights of joy,
Now sparkled with the sun, now in the seeming dark
Of the shadow of the o'erhanging tree,
Rushing, racing, always, madly. . .

But new no longer hurrying—
Flowing slowly, softly in this sadness
Reflecting the grey, unchanging sky
It winds across the flat and greenless plains
Of hopelessness, directionless
With no end but a sea of nothingness.