I thought then
at the journey's beginning
a new world was beckoning-- never knew
it would be grief and pain at the returning

for a greyer, more fragmented man
I had become--more desolate and disillusioned
there was no Arcadia but the barren wilderness there
I couldn't breathe for want of air----imprisoned

in alienated time and a landscape
never had any mortal ever imagined
the stream had turned dry, every tree had died
the faces of hills and mountains were scarred-- unrestrained

blew the recently-burnt ashes from nowhere
prolonged and hurtful they stayed in my eyes
I began with the dreams of rosy youth
returned with the death of a lost paradise