Surely I write not for the hopeful young, Or those who deem their happiness of worth, Or such as pasture and grow fat among The shows of life and feel nor doubt nor dearth, Or pious spirits with a God above them To sanctify and glorify and love them, Or sages who foresee a heaven on earth.
For none of these I write, and none of these Could read the writing if they deigned to try; So may they flourish in their due degrees, On our sweet earth and in their unplaced sky. If any cares for the weak words here written, It must be some one desolate, Fate-smitten, Whose faith and hopes are dead, and who would die.
Yes, here and there some weary wanderer In that same city of tremendous night, Will understand the speech and feel a stir Of fellowship in all-disastrous fight; "I suffer mute and lonely, yet another Uplifts his voice to let me know a brother Travels the same wild paths though out of sight."
I know that I have expessed how much I personally dislike it when others do this ****, but ;) now here I am doing it .... I am back on the desert road now it seems, and I just wanted to share something that I enjoy with you... { so, naturally, i have chosen something written by someone else for this :P